File:The Pacific coast scenic tour, from southern California to Alaska, the Canadian Pacific railway, Yellowstone Park and the Grand Cañon (1890) (14743877566).jpg

Identifier: pacificcoastscen00finc (find matches)
Title: The Pacific coast scenic tour, from southern California to Alaska, the Canadian Pacific railway, Yellowstone Park and the Grand Cañon
Year: 1890 (1890s)
Authors: Finck, Henry Theophilus, 1854-1926
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, C. Scribner's Sons
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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ed yellowishgreen, curiously interspersed with a mosaic of dark,almost black streaks and j^atches of shade, due to cloudsand other causes, and the whole edged by the dazzlingsnow. If we descend and enter this forest, a cathedral-likeawe thrills the nerves. Daylight has not the power topenetrate to the ground hidden by this dense mass oftree-tops rising two hundred to three hundred feet intothe air — except that an occasional ray of sunlight maysteal in for a second, like a flash of lightning. Andthe carpet on which this forest stands I In America werarely see a house, even of a day-laborer, without a car-pet : why, then, should these royal trees do without one ?The carpet is itself a miniature forest of ferns andmosses, luxuriating in riotous profusion on an ever-moistsoil, the products of thousands of generations of pineneedles. Nor is this carpet a monochrome, for the greenis varied by numerous berries of various kinds, most ofwhich are red, as they should be — the complementary
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ACROSS THE CANADIAN PACIFIC. 263 color of green. But there are also acres of blueberries aslarge as cherries ; and if you will tear off a few branchesof these and bring them to the young bear chained upnear the Glacier Hotel, he will be very grateful, andyou will find it amusing to watch him eating them. There is music, too, in this Forest Cathedral, Mdiich isheard to best advantage from the elevated galleryoccupied by the snow-sheds. It takes a trained ear todistinguish the steady, lippling staccato sound of asnow-fed mountain brook from the prolonged legatosigh of a pine forest, swelling to fortissimo, and dyingaway by turns. In the romantic spot we have chosen,these sounds are blended, the music of the torrents be-ing caught up by the sloping forest as by a huge sound-ing-board, and increased in loudness by being mingledwith the mournful strains of the tree-tops, as orchestralcolors are blended by modern masters. Those err whosay there is no music in nature. It is not in Siegfried

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