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r Yosemite > Library >r Two Weeks in the Yosemite >r

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Two Weeks in the Yosemite and Vicinity (1883)r
r by J. M. Buckley

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r r r
r Cathedral Rock.r

r Copyright 1883, by Phillips & Hunt, New York.r

r Home College Series. Number forty-eight.r

r TWO WEEKSr
r IN THEr
r YOSEMITE AND VICINITY.r

r Mostr tourists give but two or three days to the Yosemite;r and some, having bad weather, or not recovering from theirr fatigue before leaving the Valley, are disappointed, andr send to their friends and the public partial and contradictoryr descriptions. Cautioned by old travelers against thisr blunder, I made arrangements for all the time necessary tor visit thoroughly the Big Trees and the Yosemite, and consumedr nearly three weeks in what was in experience, andr is in recollection, one of the most delightful, healthful, inspiring,r and instructive tours of my life. What I saw, andr something of what I felt, will be briefly and familiarly,r yet accurately, told in the following pages, the friendlyr letter and not the formal essay being my model.r

r The excursion was made in May and June, 1871, and wer were fairly on the way to the Calaveras Grove of Bigr Trees when we took the stage for Murphy’s Camp, whichr is only sixteen miles from the Grove. The keepers of ther various inns or lodging-places along the route had not beenr duly informed of the unusual rush of travel, which beganr about the time we left San Francisco; and at the first stoppingr place we were met by a party one of whom told usr that they had just eaten the last morsel of food in the house.r As it was then past noon, and we had taken a very earlyr r r r breakfast, this was painful intelligence; but, like most badr news, the first account was worse than the truth; for afterr some complaint and delay we secured a hunch of bread,r potatoes, and pork, which hungry people can dispose ofr without difficulty, though Jews, Mohammedans, and dyspepticsr might find some trouble with the pork. But, as wer ate all the landlord had, (as he solemnly declared,) whatr the three stage-loads behind us, who also dined there, foundr to satisfy their cravings, we have never been able to guess.r We reached the hotel at the Calaveras Grove late in ther evening, after more than thirty miles of staging, and to ourr consternation found the only house full to overflowing; butr after the usual bustle the ladies were accommodated withr decent rooms and beds, while the gentlemen were sent intor the garret, where there were about twenty single cots. Ir went to one, and was about to lie down, when the clerkr said that it belonged to the hostler; the next was occupiedr by a driver, and similar information was given until ther fifth was reached, which I was allowed to take. It required,r however, much argument, persuasion, and clamor, to getr clean linen, the clerk persisting in saying that the bed hadr not been used; but a “struck jury” of the guests, after inspectingr the same, rendered a verdict that my interest andr that of the traveling public required, at least, clean sheetsr and pillow-eases. Of the twenty men who “garrotedr together that night three should never apply to their night’sr rest the words of the poet, “gentle sleep,” for they are sonorousr snorers, the unconscious breathings of one in particularr resembling a mingling of trumpet blasts and steamr whistles, while another’s snore sounded like the far-off rollr of the ocean. Weary as we were, these “songsters of ther night” kept us awake until we became accustomed to ther rhythm, which was not until toward morning. After anr r r r early and very good breakfast, (for the landlord “knowsr how to keep a hotel” when he is not over crowded,) wer crossed the road and entered the wonderful Grove of whichr we have heard so much in the few years since it was discovered.r

r The day was pleasantly spent in exploring the region andr measuring some of the trees. You will not expect me tor use the marvelous language about the Big Trees which ther lecturers and newspaper correspondents have developedr into a style as much larger than that of ordinary conversationr as the trees are larger than rose bushes. I shall ber content with the humbler task of giving you some informationr taken from accurate sources, and sketching the walksr which I took through the Grove.r

r “The Calaveras Grove of Big Trees,” saysr Prof. Whitney,r the geologist, who gives Mr. Hutchings as his authorityr on this point, “was the first one discovered by whiter men, and the date was the spring of 1852. The person whor first stumbled on these vegetable monsters was Mr.r A. T. Dowd, a hunter employed by the Union Waterr Company to supply the men in their employ with freshr meat while digging a canal to bring water down to Murphy’s.r According to the accounts, the discoverer foundr that his story gained so little credence among the workmenr that he was obliged to resort to a ruse to get them to ther spot where the trees were.”r

r I shall now condense, fromr Prof. Whitney’s workr andr other sources, an account which will enable those who readr this sketch to know without difficulty what to believe andr to state about these wonders of the vegetable world. Ther story of their discovery soon got into the papers of California,r and was republished in the “Athenaeum” and ther “Gardeners’ Chronicle” of London. In December, 1853,r r r r Dr. Lindley published a scientific description of the Bigr Trees, and, supposing them to be an entirely new genus,r he named them Wellingtonia, and added, to designate ther species, the title Gigantea. But further examination showedr that the Big Tree is of the same nature as ther Redwood; and the Redwood had formerly been named Sequoia,r after an Indian of the Cherokee tribe who inventedr an alphabet of eighty-six characters for his people. Sincer a celebrated French botanist, named Decaisne, has conclusivelyr proved that the Redwood and the Big Tree arer of the same genus, the Big Tree is commonly calledr Sequoia Gigantea Decaisne.r Prof. Whitneyr observes thatr “it is to the happy accident of the generic agreement ofr the Big Tree with the Redwood that we owe it that we arer not now obliged to call the largest and most interestingr tree of America after an English military hero.” A greatr demand for seeds of the Big Tree sprang up, and “hundredsr of thousands of the trees (millions it is said) are growingr in different parts of the world from seeds planted.”r They grow more than two feet per year; and soon producer cones, which, though symmetrical and pleasing to the eye,r are not as large as would be supposed. So many improbabler —even incredible—things have been said of the Bigr Trees, that I was prepared to find them much smallerr than they are generally represented to be, but was agreeablyr surprised, for they are grander and more majesticr than I had ever imagined. On entering the Grove a fewr of the lower Trees only were visible to me, and comparingr them with some magnificent Sycamores that stand inr an old church-yard near Philadelphia, Pa., the Sequoiar seemed somewhat higher than the Sycamores, but notr astonishingly high.r

r Knowing the height of the Sycamores to be less than oner r r r hundred and ten feet, and how easily we are deceived byr comparisons of what we see with what we remember, Ir walked around one of the Trees, and found it as large asr four of the Sycamores; and, by retreating from its base tor secure a proper angle of vision, saw that it must be morer than two hundred and twenty feet in height. I then passedr on to examine in rotation all the Trees, of which there arer in this Grove over ninety of immense size, besides manyr smaller, any one of which, standing on the Atlantic coast,r would be considered a great curiosity, and would attractr visitors from every direction.r

r The principal Trees have names such as follows:r

r That you may form a better idea of these heights, I willr parallel them with objects with which you are familiar:r Height.r

r Hence, to represent the height of the Keystone State, wer might imagine the Brooklyn pier of the East River Bridge,r which, as it now stands, is over one hundred feet high,r placed on the apex of Bunker Hill Monument, or a finer elm tree placed as a plume on the top of Trinity Churchr steeple.r

r One of the Trees was cut down, and to accomplish it, tookr five men twenty-two days; and after it was cut through,r required three days’ labor to make it fall down—its weightr being so great that it remained firmly in its place. Ther stump still exists, having been smoothed off about six feetr from the ground, and a small house has been erected overr r r r it. I measured its diameter, and found it a little overr twenty-four feet. When the bark was on it the entire diameterr of the trunk must have been twenty-seven or twenty-eightr feet, which gives a circumference of more than eightyr feet. It is quite common for large parties to dance on ther stump; and sermons have been preached to congregationsr of from fifty to seventy-five persons, who had abundantr room on that singular floor. I was anxious to see the Treer through which it is said that a man can ride two hundredr feet or more on horseback; a story which I had often heardr but not fully credited. But who shall dispute with facts?r There lies the hollow Tree, and people do ride through itr on horseback, for which the space is ample; and if it werer not, the thickness above for several feet might be cut awayr without coining to the surface. I also measured several ofr the Trees and found that the measurements of the Geologicalr Survey are absolutely correct.r

r The stories about the wonderful age of these Trees arer now effectually exploded.r Prof. Whitneyr says, that ther rings of annular growth show that one of the largest ofr them is one thousand three hundred years old. This wouldr be great for the age of a man, and highly respectable forr that of a nation; but those who have said that “when Nebuchadnezzarr was on his throne, and Solomon built the temple,r and Cesar crossed the Rubicon,” these Trees were inr their glory, have no authority for their statements.r

r The purity and translucency of the atmosphere addr much to the enjoyment of the traveler, as the belt occupiedr by the Grove is four thousand seven hundred and fifty-niner feet, or more than two-thirds the height of Mountr Washington in New Hampshire, above the level of the sea.r The longer I wandered through the Grove, the deeper ther impression of its grandeur became. Like Niagara, it seemsr r r r to grow as we gaze upon it, and the spectacle ennobles allr who behold it.r

r Subsequently I had the pleasure of exploring the Mariposar Grove, of which I shall not say much for want ofr space. It is five thousand five hundred feet above the sear level, or at an elevation nearly twice as great as that of ther Catskill Mountain House, and is reached on foot or horsebackr from Clark’s Ranch, from which it is about five miles;r over which distance an ascent of one thousand five hundredr feet is spread. Here “there are about one hundred andr twenty-five trees over forty feet in circumference.” Ther average height of the trees in this Grove is not as great asr that of those in the Calaveras, but the average circumferencer is considerably greater. They have been much injured byr fire, yet the effect of the whole, with the Pitch and Sugarr Pines, the Douglas Spruce, the White Fir, the Bastard Cedarr and other trees associated with the Sequoia Gigantea, isr very grand. The trees in this Grove are not named, as inr the Calaveras, but are numbered. I give the height, circumferencer at ground, and circumference six feet abover the ground, of the five largest, according to the tables ofr ther State Survey:r

r Prof. Whitneyr says of this Tree: “Splendid tree; overr one hundred feet in circumference originally, but muchr burned at base.”r

r I enjoyed my lonely trip through this Grove, (for I wasr on foot and alone,) to a degree which would have reachedr r r r ecstasy if there had been two or three congenial spirits withr me. There are, however, two sorts of persons who mightr have spoiled it—the parrot guide, who would have profanedr the sanctity of that “first temple of God” by his mercenaryr chatter, and the prosaic traveler, who would have beenr continually calculating the number of cords of wood or feetr of lumber in each tree. I will remark one fact about ther Big Trees, which detracts something from their power tor impress permanently. Their form is simple and easily remembered.r After they have been once seen, they cannotr be forgotten; hence, when revisited, they appear just asr they are expected to appear, and the imagination havingr but little room to play, the impression diminishes. It isr not so with mountain scenery, which cannot be rememberedr as it is, because of its vastness and variety, of summit andr valley, of gentle slope and precipice, of rivulet and cataract:r nor with the Falls of Niagara, or even of Schaffhausen,r where the rush of the torrent and the ever-changing, never-endingr variety of light and shade defy the recollection andr make it impossible that they should be to the eye a secondr time as at first; nor with such grand works of architecture asr St. Paul’s, London, or St. Peter’s, Rome, where the structurer is immense, and the form, though symmetrical is yetr complicated, and not to he fully comprehended by a glance.r The simplicity and regularity of the structure of the Treesr explain the fact that nearly all travelers are more agreeablyr impressed with the Grove they visit first. If that ber the Mariposa, though they afterward explore the Calaveras,r they will speak more enthusiastically of the former, whiler the impression on my mind was greater at the Calaveras.r

r I will now take leave of the Sequoia Gigantea by expressingr my high admiration ofr Prof. Whitney’s bookr onr the subject, which was of great use to me at every step,r r r r and on which I relied more and more as I tested its unfailingr accuracy. He thus closes his remarks on the Big Tree:r “It occurs in great abundance, of all ages and sizes, andr there is no reason to suppose that it is now dying out, orr that it belongs to a past geological era, any more than ther Redwood. The age of the Big Trees is not so great asr that assigned by the highest authorities to some of the Englishr Yews. Neither is their height as great by far as that ofr an Australian species, the Eucalyptus Amygdalina, anyr of which have, on the authority of Dr. Müller, the eminentr Government botanist, been found to measure over fourr hundred feet. One, indeed, reaches the enormous elevationr of four hundred and eighty feet, thus outstripping ther tallest Sequoia by one hundred and fifty-five feet. * * *r On the whole it may be stated that there is no known treer which approaches the Sequoia in grandeur, thickness andr height being both taken into consideration, unless it be ther Eucalyptus. The largest Australian tree yet reported isr said to be eighty-one feet in circumference at four feet fromr the ground; this is nearly, but not quite, as large as somer of the largest of the Big Trees of California.”r

r We will now take up the journey in the order of time,r and leave the Calaveras Grove for the Yosemite Valley.r Our route was back to Murphy’s Camp, thence to Sonora,r thence to Garrote, and thence to Crane’s Flat. Very muchr of the country has been worked for gold, and presents onr that account a peculiar aspect. Nature never leaves, afterr any of its convulsions, the face of a country in a conditionr at all resembling that of a region which has been workedr for gold. Here and there we saw men still at work; andr one whom I questioned informed me that his average yieldr for that season had been about eight dollars per day. Inr former years, however, the yield had been much greater.r r r r About seven miles before reaching Sonora, some of us leftr the coach in order to relieve it of a part of the weight, asr the hills were becoming very steep.r

r The Rev. D. A. Goodsell, of Connecticut, participatedr with me in this pedestrian exploit, and that it may be understoodr how much the horses were relieved by our departure,r the following problem in mental arithmetic isr given: If fifteen pounds be deducted from the weight ofr the writer, and the remainder be multiplied by two, ther product will be the weight of his companion; but if twenty-fiver pounds be added to the weight of both, and the sumr be multiplied by five, the result will be one ton. We didr not expect to walk more than a few miles, as the hour wasr high noon, and the sun shone, or rather blazed, upon usr most unmercifully; but, through some misunderstanding,r the stage passed us, and we were obliged to walk to Sonora,r where we expected to find the vehicle and the balance ofr the load in waiting. In this we were disappointed, as ther driver had pushed on. So, after dining in this ancientr town, (ancient for California,) we procured a couple of fleetr horses, and overtook the party at the next halting place,r twelve miles further on.r

r When we reached Gar-ro-te, a place whose name overthrowsr the famous quotation from Shakspeare,r r

r r “what’s in a name? that which we call a roser
r By any other name would smell as sweet,”r r

r At three we left the hotel, all, or nearly all, in goodr spirits, and about eleven o’clock reached the base of ther lofty mountain on the summit of which lies the clearingr where the stage route ceased and the horseback ridingr r r r began. I proposed to one of the Englishmen to walk npr the mountain, to which he assented, and we made the fiver miles in about two hours and a half; traveling at a rater which, though very slow on a plain, any one who attemptedr to keep with us on such a steep ascent would find to ber sufficiently rapid. The superiority of the horse as a travelerr does not accompany that animal into high mountain regions.r An ordinary pedestrian can ascend a mountainr much sooner than a stage or carriage, however light itsr load, can be drawn up by horses; and a first-rate mountaineerr can go much faster than a man on horse or mule back,r either up or down a steep mountain road. This statementr does not apply to merely hilly roads; on them, in descentsr and on the intervening levels, the horses make up whatr they lose in ascending, but it is true of all long and steepr ascents and descents. And on any roads, for a month orr six weeks, pedestrians can be found who can travel fartherr and end the journey in better condition than any horses,r though the endurance of the mule defies all competitionr except that of the camel and the dromedary.r

r Our walk was delightful. The quietness of the wildernessr was now and then broken by the startled movementsr of some small animal or bird, disturbed by our approach,r as we turned from the main path to drink at a spring orr brook, to survey some immense tree, or to shorten the router by taking a straighter though steeper line, to some distantr turn in the road. At each new view of increasing beautyr the Englishman would say, “That’s a rum view,” and ifr any thing unusual took place he would say, “That’s a rumr thing.” This is an adjective with which the readers ofr Dickens are somewhat familiar; but if it is to be applied tor so many different subjects, its meaning should be expandedr by differences of intonation. Our real hope was to reachr r r r the summit in time to make a good selection of horses forr ourselves and friends, but in this we were disappointed byr the extreme democracy of the agent in charge, who allowedr no choice to be made until the whole company shouldr arrive. So that we had an hour to wait; nevertheless, wer agreed that the walk and subsequent rest were more pleasantr than the wearisome lumbering of the stage.r

r At last all were ready, and then one of the most amusingr scenes you can imagine occurred. Some of the ladies hadr not been on horseback for twenty years, and some never.r They were told that to ride on side-saddles is both inconvenientr and dangerous, and that it is much better to rider like their husbands and brothers. Some of the youngerr ladies had an unpleasant consciousness of the novelty of ther situation, and some determined to sacrifice comfort to custom;r but, after a brief trial, all but two or three rode liker couriers, and, amid much laughter and good spirits, ther cavalcade started for the Valley. My heavy friend, who,r unlike many large men, is well-proportioned and a finer rider, found a powerful mule, on which he sat with dignityr and ease; and I procured a graceful and swift pony whichr moved under me as easily as a cradle under a sleepingr child. My friend’s mule was a remarkable animal. Whenr all was ready, and the signal was given to start, this muler looked on his master, looked on the company, looked on ther whole universe as far as he could see it, and opened hisr mouth little by little, the mighty chasm yawning until itr seemed like one of the heads of alligators which adorn primaryr geographies, and from the abyss came forth a soundr such as only a mule or his father can produce—loud bass,r baritone, tenor, all mixed, not blended, prolonged until ther mountain rang again. It was a trumpet blast, and its inspiringr notes stirred every animal in the party. Havingr r r r uttered this voice, before my friend had time to deserver such a reproof as Balaam received, the mule straightenedr his ears and started. We shall hear his voice again.r

r The cavalcade numbered about sixty, and presented ar picturesque appearance as it wound along the narrow bridler path. A more minute description of our route will nowr be interesting to those who have followed us thus far. Atr the point where we took the horses, we were some thousandsr of feet higher than the level of the Yosemite, andr were, by the path, about twenty miles distant from ther hotels.r Prof. Whitneyr will explain the necessity of thusr ascending and descending so many thousands of feet asr follows: “The traveler is obliged to rise from three thousandr to three thousand five hundred feet higher than ther point which he wishes to reach, namely, the bottom of ther Yosemite Valley, which is only four thousand feet abover the sea level, while the highest point on the Mariposa trailr is seven thousand four hundred feet in elevation, and ther summit on the Coulterville and Big Oak Flat side notr much less.” The reason of this we shall understand betterr when we draw near the walls of the Valley. Moving asr we were, along the side, though very near the summit, ofr the Sierra, and sometimes passing over it, we caught, everyr few moments, transient views of magnificent scenery in ther distance, but for the greater part of the first ten miles ther superb forests which cover the region prevented our seeingr any thing else, nor did we much desire any thing more grandr than the lofty Cedars and Sugar and Pitch Pines, as well asr the majestic Firs, which stand like sentinels on every side.r

r Having a fleet horse, and but little for him to carry, andr being accustomed to mountaineering, I formed the presumptuousr and hazardous resolution of getting into ther Valley before all the others. Of course, there was no difficultyr r r r in passing the ladies and several. elderly gentlemen,r nor was there any trouble in distancing several fine ridersr who were miserably mounted; but there were several gentlemenr who were well-mounted, and capital riders, and hadr the same resolution which I had made. The superiorr strength of my friend’s mule overcame all the disadvantagesr of his weight, and he kept well up with the foremost.r One reason for our desire to get in first was, that there arer but four or five houses in the Valley, the day was Saturday,r there were indications of a storm, and we were told thatr the hotels were crowded—whence we concluded that somebodyr would have very poor accommodations. Allowingr my pony his own gait, I had passed all save two parties,r one of three, the other of five, of which the five were a fewr hundred yards behind the three. I overtook them at ar point where the path for a short distance is very steep, andr there turning aside at a rapid canter, I undertook to passr them, when, “horrible to tell,” the girth broke, the saddler turned, and I was on the ground, not hurt, but demoralized,r and compelled to ask one of my rivals to assist me to adjustr the saddle and get under way. The fleetness of myr horse, however, enabled me to pass all but two, and by oner of these I should certainly have been beaten if he had notr met with a similar accident. As it ended, the two of ther advance party and myself rode in side by side.r

r There is a partial view of the Valley at a point calledr the “Stand Point of Silence.” I did not pause there, asr it seemed better to reach the end of the journey as soon asr possible, especially as the upper part of the Valley is notr visible at this point. Just beyond we began rapidly tor descend into the Valley. It is about this part of the router that such thrilling adventures are told—such as this—” thatr the overhanging rocks project so that one is obliged to rider r r r on the extreme edge to avoid being knocked off the precipice,r which happening, the unfortunate man would fall perpendicularlyr some thousands of feet.” There are, indeed,r many appalling depths, and the path is sometimes narrow,r and if a horse were blind, and his rider intoxicated orr asleep, the animal might wander out of the path and meetr with disaster; but there are no places along either of ther main routes where one is in danger of being knocked off asr stated. There are few points where a horseman meetingr another would not find room to pass; and there is no spotr where, if horse and rider fell over the precipice from ther path, they would fall perpendicularly two hundred feet,r though there would be ample scope for them to dash andr roll below for a long distance. Any woman not more thanr seventy years old, if in fair health, can ride the whole distancer without any occasion for fright. A very heavy personr in some of the steepest descents might do well to dismount,r though it is not necessary. Indignation at thoser who have exaggerated the perils of the route, and thus deterredr timid persons from entering, was freely expressedr by many; and one of the party of three, an eloquent Presbyterianr clergyman of San Francisco, made the whole descentr with his hands in his pockets, sitting bolt upright onr his horse’s back. Both the Mariposa route and that whichr we took are every way as safe as ordinary mountain trails.r Still, let no one expect to find them like the Boulevards,r or the avenues in Central Park.r

r The last five miles are through the Valley, of which wer could see nothing, as it was now quite dark. I selectedr the middle of the three hotels, Black’s, and obtained quartersr for the eight who were immediately of our party, andr while sitting in the porch saw a company of men bringingr up the steps what seemed to be the body of a man. Onr r r r inquiry I found that an Italian gentleman had fallen, thatr afternoon, over a precipice, and was fatally injured. Ther poor man died that night. How he met with the accidentr will be described in the narrative of our visit to the samer spot. Fearing lest our party, hearing of this accident,r should suppose some of their own friends to be injured, Ir rode back toward them, and soon met Mr. Goodsell, tor whom I communicated the sad intelligence of the accidentr and the joyful news that we had good accommodations.r He informed me that one of our party was badly hurt, notr by falling or being thrown, but by a kick from a viciousr horse. His wound, though painful, and sufficient to keepr him in bed for a few hours, and to excite the sympathy ofr his friends, was not as bad as it would have been if it hadr been worse; and by all but the sufferer, and perhaps by himr now, may be classed among the interesting adventures ofr the trip. When my friend left his faithful mule, the animal,r with every appearance of affection, turned his facer toward his late rider, and made the valley ring again withr his mighty voice. The note had something marvelous inr it; and to this day we almost fancy that we hear it reverberatingr among the hills. Some of the ladies, on dismounting,r found that their limbs refused to obey, and their moder of motion resembled that of a crab; but the stiffness soonr passed away, all had excellent appetites, all were cheerful,r and all slept well. I ought to say, however, that the intelligencer of the fatal accident referred to threw a tinge ofr gloom over the whole company.r

r The next day was Sunday, and it rained from morningr till night. In the evening we had a brief service, at whichr most of the guests were present. On Monday the stormr continued for the greater part of the day, and I employedr the intervals in riding on horseback through the Valley andr r r r making myself familiar with its topography. It is easy tor see why we must ascend several thousand feet above ther Valley in order to get into it. It is so deep, and has suchr steep sides, that it cannot be entered from below, but mustr be approached from above and on the side. (Since myr visit, however, the Indian trail, more than two thousand feetr lower, has been worked, and I learn has already been, orr soon will be, declared open and safe. All robust and leisurelyr travelers will, however, do well to take one of ther high trails in entering or departing, as the scenery morer than compensates for the increased labor. One great advantager of the lower trail will be the possibility of enteringr and leaving the Valley much earlier and later in the season,r as the snow will melt in the Spring sooner and will notr fall until later in the Autumn on the lower route than onr the summit of the Sierra, over which the old Mariposa andr Big Oak trails run.)r

r I am going to give you simply an outline at first, andr then describe the excursions made.r The Geological Survey,r already quoted, says, “The Valley proper consists of threer parts. First, the bottom. This is a nearly level area,r having a gentle slope. The width of the space betweenr the débris slopes is very variable. In the upper part ofr the Valley it averages something less than half a mile. Ar little below the Three Brothers it closes to an eighth of ar mile in width, and between El Capitan and Cathedralr Rock the Valley is narrowed down so that there is onlyr just room for the river to pass. Below this it opens outr again, and forms two charming little patches of meadowr of about twenty acres each in extent. There are altogetherr one thousand one hundred and forty-one acres of land inr the Valley proper, of which seven hundred and forty-fiver are meadow and the remainder a sandy soil. The elevationr r r r of the bottom of the Valley above the sea level is in roundr numbers four thousand feet. Through the Valley flows ther Merced River, about seventy feet in width.”r

r The walls of this narrow Valley are from three to fourr thousand feet in height. These are differently named, accordingr to their shape and the fancy of those who haver named them; and it is but simple truth to say, that “everyr portion of the Yosemite wall is sublime.” Over theser “precipitous, black, jagged rocks, forever shattered, andr the same forever,” the grandest waterfalls and cataracts inr the world dash and foam. If we suppose ourselves in ther lower part of the Valley, on the left is El Capitan, “an immenser block of granite projecting squarely out into ther Valley, and presenting an almost vertical sharp edge threer thousand three hundred feet in elevation.” It can be seenr in clear weather fifty or sixty miles. Opposite is the Bridalr Veil Fall, which leaps at first six hundred and thirty feetr in the clear, and then plunges down in cascades three hundredr feet more. Opposite to this is the Virgin Tears’ Fall,r more than one thousand feet high. Then, beyond the Bridalr Veil Fall, is the Cathedral Rock, whose summit is twor thousand six hundred and sixty feet above the Valley. Beyondr this, and standing on the walls of the Valley, arer the Spires, “isolated columns of granite, at least five hundredr feet high.” On the other side are the Three Brothers,r which rise one behind another, the highest being threer thousand eight hundred and thirty feet in elevation. Oppositer to these is the Sentinel Rock, which towers abover the river three thousand and forty-three feet.r

r About two miles above the Yosemite Falls the Valleyr divides into three narrower chasms or cañons; the Mercedr River runs through the Middle, the Tenayo Fork throughr the left, and the South Fork through the right. Onr r r r the left, above the division, rises the North Dome, threer thousand five hundred and sixty-eight feet above the Valley,r and nearly opposite to it is the Half Dome or Southr Dome, which is four thousand seven hundred and thirty-evenr feet high, absolutely perpendicular for more thanr two thousand feet from the summit, “being probably ther only one of all the prominent points about the Yosemiter which never has been, and never will be, trodden by humanr foot.” Up this northwesterly cañon is Mirror Lake,r and above it is Mount Watkins. To form a proper idea ofr the purity of the atmosphere it must be remembered thatr four thousand feet must be added to the above heights, asr the Valley itself is at that elevation above the level of ther sea.r

r Following the Merced we soon approach the Vernalr Fall, which is about four hundred feet in height; beyondr which, for about a mile, the river plunges over a series ofr escarpments, forming many cascades and rapids, and thenr the Nevada Fall is reached, which is nearly six hundredr feet in perpendicular height. Behind and above it is ther Cap of Liberty, a solid mass of granite, some two thousandr feet from its base, and nearly perpendicular. Abover and beyond the Nevada Fall are the high Sierras.r

r By reference to this outline you can follow me withoutr difficulty. On Monday I first rode down to the Bridalr Veil Fall, and fastening the horse to a tree, undertook tor climb to its summit. A gentleman, just descending, saidr that he had gone as far as he dared alone, and would returnr if I would accompany him. After toiling about two hoursr we found it impossible to proceed further, and at a heightr of one thousand five hundred feet above the Merced Riverr we surveyed the Valley. At our left, and very close, wasr the Bridal Veil Fall; beneath was the Merced, plungingr r r r tumultuously along; opposite was the Virgin Tears’ Fall, ar hundred feet higher than the Staubbach of Switzerland, andr in all respects more beautiful; just above was the massive,r smooth, white face of El Capitan, now partly covered withr snow and partly hidden by the clouds and vapors whichr overhung and almost enveloped it. The grandeur of ther spectacle defies description. Descending, I rode back tor the hotel, and thence to the foot of the Yosemite Falls.r These I saw by daylight, and starlight, and moonlight, andr by the light of an immense fire of brush made beneathr them. How shall I describe them? All the descriptionsr I had read or heard seemed contemptible as I stood there.r A lady from New England, whom I did not know, stoodr entranced with the beauty and grandeur of the scene. Atr last, turning to the lady who accompanied her, she said,r “That is kind of pretty, isn’t it!” I felt unspeakable contemptr for one who would dare to apply any thing less thanr sublime to such a spectacle: but if I were to try to describer it, and were to employ the most expressive language whichr could be commanded, and you were to visit the Valley, andr take my description with you and read it there, your contemptr for me would be as great as that which I felt for her.r There is very little talking there. The common expressionsr of wonder, surprise, admiration, or pleasure, are not oftenr heard. Men and women gaze and are silent, and even littler children are made quiet by the overwhelming majestyr of the place.r

r On Tuesday morning I tried to find some one whor desired to ascend the more difficult cañons on foot, butr met with no success; all of my friends desired to leaver the next morning, and must ride to save time. Just as Ir was determining to employ a guide, and go with no otherr company, one of our party said, “There is a Scotch gentlemanr r r r in the office whom you ought to see. He says her has been here three weeks, and has walked through ther whole region, and if he could find a companion whoser wind and limbs were good he would stay a week longer.”r I hastened in and was introduced. The Scotchman criticallyr surveyed me and said, “How long can you walk?”r I did not like his tone. It implied doubt of my pedestrianism.r As I had walked through most of the mountainr regions of our own country, and over his native Highlands,r I replied, “Eighteen hours without food or drink.”r He rose instantly and said, “We will ascend the Northr Dome to-day.” The rain in the Valley had been snowr on the mountains, and I had not walked much since ther preceding summer; but there was no room to hesitate.r Though it was more than twenty miles, some of it ofr terrible climbing, I could not show the white feather.r

r At eight we started, crossed the Valley, and just beyondr the Yosemite Falls entered the Indian Cañon. For a littler while we talked; but when the climbing grew difficult wer needed all our breath, and hours passed away in silence.r No proposition of rest was made by my companion; Ir would not first cry “Hold! enough.” At last, after aboutr four hours, we met a noted photographer, accompanied byr his assistant. They told us that the summit was coveredr with snow, and enveloped in vapors, and advised us to turnr back; but that would not do, for neither of us could inr honor propose it. On we went, waded through the snow,r and reached a point nearly a thousand feet higher than ther North Dome and a mile to the north of it. But from thatr point to our destination we walked on a magnificent graniter causeway, sometimes hundreds of yards with scarce a seam.r At three o’clock we were on the Dome; beneath were ther Tenayo Fork and Mirror Lake; opposite, seeming nearr r r r enough to touch, the stupendous Half Dome; to the east,r the Sentinel Dome, and beyond, the Sentinel Rock, whiler in different directions we saw the various groups of ther high Sierras, from ten to fourteen thousand feet above ther level of the sea. It was piercingly cold, the summit wasr at intervals enveloped in clouds, and the wind blew violently.r Heaping together quantities of decayed wood, wer built a great fire, to warm our hands and show our friendsr at the hotel that we were really there. While gatheringr wood we found a bottle containing the names of a party ofr four, one of whom was a woman, who had made the ascentr some years before. After washing our sandwiches downr our dry throats with some snow water, we began the descent,r and though it was long after dark when we reachedr the hotel, we were in fine spirits and had settled two things,r which in our remaining trips received confirmation—oner was that my Scotch friend was much more expert in keepingr and finding a trail than I, and the other that my eyesr were more reliable for distant observations than his. Thisr enabled each to respect himself, and compelled him to respectr the other. As for powers of endurance, he seemedr satisfied, for he observed that “he did not have to holdr back on my account.” I did not deem it necessary to tellr him that if he had “let out any more” he might have beenr compelled to “hold back.”r

r The next morning, after requesting our accommodatingr landlord to keep our rooms for us, as we should not returnr for some days, we walked to Mirror Lake. This little laker derives its deserved celebrity from the sublime scenery surroundingr it, and which is reflected from its placid bosom;r and as the scenery is grander than that which surroundsr other lakes, the reflection is more beautiful. My friend, ther Scotchman, whose name is Maxwell, said that there werer r r r good fish there, and he would catch some. While he didr so I slept, hoping to, fully recover from the fatigue of ther previous day, which for a “breaking in” was rather severe.r The fish, when caught and cooked by a man who had ar saloon there, were eaten, but they had a very peculiar effectr on us both. We became very sick, and concluded that ther cook had used two pounds of grease to one pound of fish.r Returning, we crossed the Merced River on a log, and beganr to ascend toward the Vernal Fall. In every direction ther scenery was grand, but when we reached the Fall itselfr we were more than delighted with its beauty. Three timesr as high as Niagara—its volume, of course, not nearly asr great—it was yet the largest we had seen in the Valley.r “The rock behind this Fall is a perfectly square-cut mass ofr granite, extending across the cañon,” and the “path up itsr side near the Fall winds around and along a steeply slopingr mountain side.” “The perpendicular part of the ascent isr surmounted by the aid of ladders, which should be replacedr by a substantial and well-protected staircase.” This wasr written byr Prof. Whitney,r and the staircase has since beenr built, so that now the ascent is as safe as the entrance to ar church. It was here that the Italian lost his life. One ofr the ladders rested on a ledge, perhaps ten feet long andr four or five in width. Several ladies and gentlemen werer descending, and the unfortunate man, when he reached ther ledge just mentioned, turned around to offer his assistancer to a lady just coming down. When he thus turned, hisr back was toward the precipice, and as she declined his aidr he bowed and took one step backward, which caused himr to lose his balance, and he fell headlong upon the rocksr beneath. Though the ladders had rather an unsafe look,r no accident had happened there, and while the politenessr of the Italian is to be commended, and his fate deplored,r r r r his death is to be attributed to carelessness. He had, justr before, drank a bottle of wine, and though not grosslyr intemperate, habitually used wines and stronger liquors.r If his head had been quite steady it seems improbable thatr he would have turned his back on such a precipice andr then proceed to act as if he were on a prairie.r

r As it was now nearly night-fall we hailed with pleasurer Snow’s Cottage, at the foot of the Nevada Fall. Mrs.r Snow is a Vermonter, a woman of shrewdness, activity,r and disposed to please travelers. She knows how to cookr all the plain dishes, and can furnish from her dairy milkr and butter equal to those produced in her native State.r We had recovered from the effects of our fish dinner, ther walk had given us fine appetites, we ate heartily, soon wentr to bed, and found that “the sleep of the laboring man isr sweet, whether he eat little or much.”r

r At half-past six in the morning we breakfasted, andr having provided ourselves with a sandwich, set out on ar tour into the higher regions. Our route first was to ther summit of the Nevada Fall, up a magnificently romanticr path by its side. The top reached, we went out upon ar causeway of rocks into the middle of the river, and fromr a kind of cape or promontory, just above the lip of the Fall,r beheld the wondrous panorama. Perpendicularly descendingr beneath us was the Nevada; then the little spot ofr green, with Snow’s house on it; below, the cascades; then,r the Vernal Fall; on the left, the lofty crest of the Sierras;r on the right, the Cap of Liberty; and in the distance, portionsr of the main Valley, with a glimpse of El Capitan.r Here one might remain motionless for a day, and neverr grow weary or desire a change of position. My genial Scotchr friend suggested that I ought by all means to ascend ther Cap of Liberty, and offered to point out the path; but saidr r r r that as he had already made the ascent, he would amuser himself below. Accordingly I began the journey up. Ther only difficulty was the steepness, for the trees were burntr off at the base of the mountain, and for the last fifteen hundredr feet of perpendicular ascent it was smooth, bare granite.r The stillness and solitude deepened the impression ofr sublimity; the views continually increased in grandeur andr extent; and after an hour and a half of fair work the summitr was reached. It is, as the name indicates, a mass ofr granite shaped like a cap, entirely smooth, but having onr it one or two trees whose roots absorb all the earth there is.r The scene cannot be described, and cannot be forgotten.r If you ever ascend the Cap of Liberty, and remember thisr brief sketch, you will be grateful to me for not trying tor describe the view.*r r r [* The artist has tried in the accompanying engraving to impart an idear of the grandeur of the Cap of Liberty and the Nevada Fall. You must expandr the picture by supposing nine spires as high as Trinity, in New York,r one above another, on the side of the Cap, and more than three Niagaras inr height, plunging down the Nevada.]r r r I had not been on the summit morer than twenty minutes when my companion appeared, andr said that he would point out some objects which could notr be identified without a guide. He then proposed to advancer to the sharp edge of the cliff, and look at the rainbows playingr about the Nevada Fall. He did so, and stretching hisr body far out over the precipice, requested me to sit downr upon his limbs, which done, he enjoyed for a few momentsr the scene, and then offered to exchange places with me,r which was soon accomplished. If he had risen, or hadr been seized with a convulsion, no cannon ball ever rushedr through the air more rapidly than my body would haver plunged into the abyss. So long as neither of these happened,r there was no danger whatever, and the enjoymentr r r r amply repaid the trouble. The descent was soon made,r and the question now arose, where next?r

r In the distance “Cloud’s Rest” towered up more thanr ten thousand feet above the level of the sea, and about fourr thousand five hundred above our position. After a littler deliberation, about noon we started for that mountain. Atr our left, now, was the Cap of Liberty, and beyond it ther Half Dome, whose aspect is as imposing on this side as on ther other, though its form is very different. For a fewr miles the way was quite level, and the walking easy; therer was no bridle path then, as there is now, and we trusted tor our eyes. Often, on the various tours thus far, we hadr heard a peculiar sound, resembling the noise of an immenser woodpecker; but as we continued to hear it when we werer miles from any tree, my companion insisted that it was ther noise of the beating of our own hearts. But as we heardr nothing more when standing close to each other than whenr some distance apart, this theory was given up. What ther cause of the sound was we could not determine, nor couldr any of the old settlers and travelers thereabouts explain,r though others claimed to have heard it. At four in ther afternoon we reached what we supposed to be the summit,r but found that there are three peaks, the highest of whichr had not been visible at all from any point which we hadr passed before, and that it was at least half a mile from us.r On we went, determined to attain it, and ate our last sandwichr on the very crest at five o’clock. We saw, fromr Cloud’s Rest, the Valley itself; Mount Lyell, thirteen thousandr feet high; Mount Dana, thirteen thousand two hundredr and twenty-seven feet high; Mount Hoffman, Mountr Star King, the Obelisk Range, and innumerable peaks andr ranges, and could apply to it a remark made by a wellr known traveler about another mountain, “Only those whor r r r have been there can tell what a mistake is made by omittingr it.” We now descended as rapidly as possible, but it wasr after eight o’clock, and quite dark, when we turned ther base of the Cap of Liberty and began the descent of ther rocky and precipitous path down the side of the Nevadar Fall. A descent is always more perilous than an ascent,r if the path be at all steep; to make that descent in darknessr was perilous enough to be very exciting. Mr. Maxwell,r however, was equal to any professional guide, and Ir humbly followed. At nine the lights at Snow’s were just beingr extinguished when we knocked and voices were heard.r Promptly Mr. Snow ushered us in, promptly Mrs. Snowr cooked us a supper, and promptly we ate it, and went atr once to bed, declaring that such a day’s work had given usr the appetite and sleeping power of growing boys.r

r At six a. m. we were up, and at 6.30 were off again,r this time determined to “bring up” somewhere else thatr night, or sleep out on the mountains. moving reascendedr to the summit of the Nevada Fall, we continued our walkr along the side of the river to the Little Yosemite Valley.r “This is a flat valley, or mountain meadow, about fourr miles long and from a half a mile to a mile wide. It isr inclosed between walls from two thousand to three thousandr feet high, with numerous projecting buttresses andr angles, topped with dome-shaped masses. The Little Yosemiter Valley is a little over six thousand feet above ther sea level, or two thousand above the Yosemite, of whichr it is a kind of continuation, being on the same stream,r namely, the main Merced. The views there are beautiful,r unique, and some of them very grotesque. About half-wayr up the Valley “a cascade comes sliding down in a clearr sheet over a rounded mass of granite; it was estimated atr one thousand two hundred feet in height.” Having spentr r r r some hours here we returned toward the Nevada Fall, inr search of a log on which to cross the river. None beingr found, Mr. Maxwell proposed to wade it, and, removing ar portion of his clothing, made the attempt, but soon foundr that he had miscalculated the depth, and became thoroughlyr soaked with the coldest water. I preferred to disrobe entirely,r and avoid the necessity of climbing in wet clothes.r We then began the ascent of Mount Starr King, whichr rises steeply from the shore of the river. The chaparral,r a very stiff, impenetrable growth, obstructed our progressr at every step. In addition to the steepness, the labor wasr as great as that of forcing through hedges, and at the endr of two hours we seemed provokingly close to the river.r But by two o’clock we were as near the summit as it isr possible for human beings to get by climbing.r Prof. Whitneyr says: “Starr King is the steepest cone in ther region with the exception of the Half Dome, and is exceedinglyr smooth, having hardly a break in it; the summit isr quite inaccessible, and we have not been able to measurer its height.” We think that we were within six hundredr feet perpendicular of the summit. Having surveyed ther marvelous panorama, which stretched from Monte Diablor in the Coast Range, near San Francisco, to Mount Lyellr and the Obelisk Range, we descended rapidly toward ther Illilouette, or South Fork, along which we wandered forr perhaps two miles before finding a place to cross. Mr.r Maxwell could cross a log over a chasm five hundred feetr deep, and his head would be wholly unmoved; not sor with me—though under the encouragement of his exampler I improved. On this occasion I crawled across a narrowr log, where a slip would have been fatal, taking the attituder of boys playing the ancient game of “see-saw.” It wasr now five p. m., and we were a long distance from any humanr r r r habitation. According to Maxwell’s judgment we beganr to climb almost perpendicularly up the mountain side.r Two hours passed in silence and severe toil, when Mr. M.r cried out, “There is a grisly!” And so it was. The immenser brute, however, showed no disposition to molest us,r and walked slowly away into a rocky cavern. Two orr three days before another had been seen by a party ofr ladies and gentlemen, whose guide formed them into ar hollow square in front of Sir Bruin; this gave him no alternativer but to advance upon them; the square broker into as many pieces as there were persons, and the bearr went on his way undisturbed.r

r At eight o’clock, with our tongues greatly swollen andr hanging out of our mouths with thirst, there having beenr neither snow nor water on the last ascent, we reached ther summit. The sun was just setting and the full moon risingr opposite, and they seemed but a few miles apart. As theyr rose and set behind the vertical summits of mountainr ranges, it seemed as though there was an invisible axisr common to both, and that it was so inclined that one sankr as the other rose. Never have I beheld any thing morer beautiful in the Alps or any of our American mountainsr than the blended rays of the rising moon and setting sunr reflected from the snowy Sierras.r

r In one of our earlier trips, knowing that the Scotch lover and freely use strong liquors, I asked my companion whatr he thought of whisky as a stimulant in case of exhaustion.r He replied that he had traveled through Australia, andr many other regions where hardship and privation were ther rule, and had slept out many a night, and that while her was not a total abstinence man, he believed that “everyr drop of alcohol a man takes on such tours weakens hisr nervous and muscular system, and diminishes his powerr r r r of endurance.” This was an agreeable surprise. Up tor this point our only drink had been water, but now wer could find no water, and our tongues were swollen andr painful. Mr. Maxwell produced a flask, and said, “Shallr we drink?” but just then we descried a snowbank,r which relieved our immediate necessity. Except the lossr of a few drops, necessary to reduce the swelling of ther tongue, and a little used on the feet, the flask went backr as full as when we started. We now walked rapidly alongr the crest to the Glacier Peak, as my friend and guider thought we could descend it; but it was freezing cold whenr we reached the cañon, and the light of the moon gave usr no help on that side of the Valley. After some debate wer concluded to attempt it, but half an hour’s work convincedr us of its impracticability at night, though Mr. Maxwellr and an Englishman named Cross had descended in the day-time.r Across the Valley, far up under the Yosemite Fall,r a huge fire was burning, kindled by Mr. Muir, a residentr of the Valley, who had an engagement to spend the nightr there with us, but we had failed to reach it. The temperaturer was now about five degrees below freezing point, icer formed all around us, and our clothing, wet by the waterr in the cañon, began to grow stiff. We had no time tor lose, and walked at a rapid pace to Peregoy’s, arrivingr there at twenty minutes of one in the morning, havingr walked and climbed steadily from a little before 7 a. m.r to 12.40 a. m. next day, making just the eighteen hoursr I had foolishly boasted of in the beginning. Peregoy couldr give us no bed, nor any dry clothes, so we sat over ther cook-stove until 5 o’clock, when two guides got up andr we slipped into their places and slept till 6.30, when wer breakfasted and afterward ascended the Sentinel Dome,r subsequently going down the Sentinel Rock Cañon tor r r r the hotel, which was reached Saturday afternoon at fourr o’clock.r

r If you ask whether we were fatigued, truth requires mer to say that after turning away from the Glacier Peak tor walk eight miles to Peregoy’s, if memory had failed wer could still have told by our sensations that we must haver been walking; but there was not a moment during ther whole week’s work when we were not in better physicalr and mental condition than when we began, excepting shortr periods of great peril while we were descending Glacierr Peak and Sentinel Rock Cañons.r

r There are some, perhaps, who will say, “I cannot seer any pleasure, and I do see criminal recklessness, in suchr labors and exposures.” To all such I thus reply: Ther labor is sweet to a genuine lover of mountains. Her personifies every seemingly inaccessible crag and distantr summit, determines to conquer it, and, having done so,r feels his mental, moral, and physical systems alike bracedr for further effort in any department. The exposures to anr experienced pedestrian are more apparent than real; andr the possibilities of accident do not increase danger, becauser the knowledge of them leads to greater caution; not,r indeed, the trembling caution worse than none, but ther care which experience and steadiness of nerve render easyr and almost instinctive. To those who “can see nor pleasure” in such a tour I commend the following incident:r “On one occasion the celebrated Robert Hallr having ascended the dome of the Radcliffe Library atr Oxford, England, beheld with rapture the vision of surpassingr beauty, and turning to a friend exclaimed, “O! ifr this earth is so beautiful what must the New Jerusalemr be!” Soon afterward the equally celebrated Andrewr Fuller was taken to the same spot. After looking aroundr r r r a moment he scratched his head, and said to the gentlemanr who was with him, “Have you seen any new definitionr of justification by faith lately?”r

r There are diversities of taste, and if you “can see nor pleasure” in such tours, can you not spend your summersr at Saratoga, and walk in slippers from spring to spring,r and drink the waters, and thus evince beyond disputer your manhood, and descent from those brave men whomr we reverently call “our fathers?”r

r On Sunday I went over to Hutching’s Hotel, and listenedr to an admirable sermon delivered by Rev. Mr. Perkins, ar Congregational minister of Ware, Mass., and in the eveningr had strength enough left to conduct a service of at leastr ordinary length at Black’s.r

r The Yosemite is more sublime than any cathedral, andr the voices of its many waters more musical than the mostr magnificent orchestra. Standing in awe before the silent,r inaccessible, apparently immutable Half Dome, it is befittingr us to say, as Moses said among the mountains ofr Asia, “Lord, thou bast been our dwelling-place in all generations.r Before the mountains were brought forth, orr ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even fromr everlasting to everlasting, thou art God.”r

r On the 5th of October, 1863, I stood on the Col de Balmer in Switzerland. While the guide was caring for the mules,r I ascended an adjacent summit, five hundred feet higher,r and met there a British officer, traveling like myself, alone.r After a few moments’ conversation he said, “Look at Montr Blanc, ‘with its myriad bristling crags;’ see that sunlightr intensified a hundred times by the cathedrals of ice fromr which it is reflected; behold the Mer de Glacé, does it notr resemble that ‘sea of glass mingled with fire?’ Couldr there be any thing on earth more sublime?” I responded,r r r r “It is grand beyond imagination.” “But,” said he,r “there is something far sublimer than this.” “And whatr is that?” I asked. He replied, “That the God who mader all this, and by a word could remand it all to nothingnessr and night, so loved you and me as to give his only begottenr Son to live and die and rise for us, that when this wondrousr panorama shall have passed away we shall be withr Him forever.” This, as nearly as I can recollect it, is ther conversation which I had with the eloquent and spirituallyr minded British officer; and in the Yosemite I rememberedr it and thought, Yes, that God, the Creator of all that thrillsr me here, should give his Son to save me, is the sublimestr of all possible conceptions. May those, who read theser words have a true sympathy with Nature in its grand manifestations,r which cannot but elevate and refine them, andr also a deeper sympathy with the God of Nature, who revealsr in Christ what the mountains, and the seas, and the stars,r cannot tell—his personal sympathy and love for every oner of his earthly children.r

NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

r “Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; inr the elder, a part of experience.”—Bacon.r

r r “To him who in the love of nature holdsr
r Communion with her visible forms, she speaksr
r A various language.”—Bryant.r r

r “I had rather believe all the fables in the ‘Legend,’ andr the ‘Talmud,’ and the ‘Alcoran,’ than that this universalr frame is without a mind: and therefore, God never wroughtr miracles to convince atheism, because his ordinary worksr convince it.”—Bacon.r

r r “Pleasant were many scenes, but most to mer
r The solitude of vast extent, untouchedr
r By hand of art, where nature showed herself,r
r And reaped her crops;—whose garments were the clouds;r
r Whose minstrels, brooks; whose lamps, the moon and stars;r
r Whose banquets, morning dews; whose heroes, storms;r
r Whose warriors, mighty winds; whose lovers, flowers;r
r Whose orators, the thunder-bolts of God;r
r Whose palaces, the everlasting hills;r
r Whose ceiling, heaven’s unfathomable blue;r
r And from whose rocky turrets battled high,r
r Prospect immense spread out on all sides round;r
r Lost now between the welkin and the main,r
r Now walled with hills that slept above the storm.”r
r —Pollock.r r

r r “High mountains are a feeling, but the humr
r Of human cities torture.”—Byron.r r

r “It struck me much, as I sat by the Kuhlbach, one silentr noontide, and watched it flowing, gurgling, to think how thisr same streamlet had flowed and gurgled, through all changesr r r r of weather and of fortune, from beyond the earliest date ofr history. Yes, probably on the morning when Joshua fordedr Jordan, even as at the midday when Caesar, doubtless withr difficulty, swam the Nile, yet kept his Commentaries dryr —this little Kuhlbach, assiduous as Tiber, Eurotas, orr Siloa, was murmuring on across the wilderness, as yet unnamed,r unseen; here, too, as in the Euphrates and the Ganges,r is a vein or veinlet of the grand world-circulation ofr waters, which, with its atmospheric arteries, has lasted andr lasts simply with the world. Thou fool! Nature alone isr antique, and the oldest Art is a mushroom; the idle cragr thou sittest on is six thousand years of age.”—Carlyle.r

r “Here we are safe after such adventures and such wondersr in the Yosemite and the Big Trees. All is more beautifulr and wonderful than I had expected, and California ther finest country in the world—and O, the flowers!r

r “This is a wonderful spot: such crags, pillars, caves—redr and gray—and the Flora, such a jumble—cactus, yucca,r poison-sumach, and lovely strange flowers, mixed withr Douglas’ and Menzies’ pine, and eatable-pinon, and thoser again with our own harebells and roses and all sorts of Englishr flowers.”—Chas. Kingsley.r

YOSEMITE AND VICINITY.

r [thought-outline to help the memory.]r

r
1. The start? Hotel experience? Big Trees? How discovered and named?r
r
2. To the valley? Companions? Animals? Accidents?r
r
3. False rumors? More serious accidents? Sunday? Trails?r
r
4. General outline of survey? Falls? Rivers? Lakes? Summits?r
r
5. El Capitan? Impressions? New companion? North Dome? Power ofr endurance? Rainbows?r
r
6. Cloud Rest? Dangerous descent? Mount Starr King? A bear? Thirst?r Temperance discussion?r
r
7. Objections answered? Diverse impressions? Sunday service? Britishr officer’s comment?r
r

r r r
r The Cap of Liberty and Nevada Fall.r

About the Author

r James Monroe Buckley was born in Rahway, New Jersey December 16, 1836.r He was educated at Pennington, NJ seminary, Weslyeyan University,r and Exeter, New Hampshire.r He was stationed as a Methodist Episcopal minister atr New Hampshire, Detroit, and finally Brooklyn, New York in 1866.r He became an influential minister,r was editor of the New York Christian Advocate from 1880 to 1912,r and was generally referred to as a “minister of ministers.”r He founded the New York Methodist Hospital 1881 in Brooklynr after a visiting organist and friendr died because no adequate hospital care was available.r Rev. J. M. Buckley wrote several books and articles, mostly onr religious matters.r He received a D. D. from Wesleyan University in 1872,r and a LL. D. from Emory and Henry College, Virginia.r Rev. Buckley died Feb. 8, 1920.r

Bibliographical Information

r J. M. (James Monroe) Buckley (1836 - 1920),r Two Weeks in the Yosemite and Vicinityr (New York, Phillips & Hunt; Cincinnati, Walden & Stowe, 1883).r Part of Home College Series, 48.r 2d ed.r 36 pages. Illustrated. 19 cm.r Bound in brown paper wrappers.r Library of Congress call number F868.Y6 B87.r LCCN rc 01000625.r Bibliography: Cowan p. 82.r

r First printed 1873 as part of the Young People’s Half Hour Series.r Reprinted in 1883 and 1884 as part of the renamed Home College Series.r The 1883 edition is used here, which describes a r trip that appears to have been takenr in the early 1870’s, from the description.r The 1883 edition was reprinted in 1967 by Shorey Book Store.r

r Digitized by Dan Anderson, April 2005,r from a copy at the San Diego Public Library.r These files may be used for any non-commercial purpose,r provided this notice is left intact.r
r     —Dan Anderson, www.yosemite.ca.usr

r

r

r http://www.yosemite.ca.us/library/history/two_weeks_in_the_yosemite/r