Part 4

It was an indescribable joy to me in those old days to stroll along the white-pebbled beach of the lake and gather shells. I also loved to roam among the green, round hills near by and gaze out across the calm blue lake, or let my glances wander afar off up those shining straits, channeled out, as they are, like mighty gateways among the cliffs and crags of the ancient hills. Far away they would widen out again into broad lakes, or else they would wander off and lose themselves in narrow straits among the splintered crags and snow-capped peaks of the not distant mountains. Often, as I would sit gazing up into those mystic gulfs and weird canons, stretching far away among the hills, I would fancy in my childish innocence that I could catch glimpses of another world which lay dimly visible in the “far beyond.” I had hopes of being able, some day, to propel my little bull-hide boat into that wonderful realm of the “great unknown.” The long lines of “sand hill” cranes, the sharp phalanx of white geese, the flutter of swans’ wings, circling away across the distant marsh lands, appeared as the flash of angel wings. To me they seemed as the spirits of the blest, circling through celestial skies or hovering above the shores of Paradise.

_THOSE ARE THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS_

“Those are the Rocky Mountains”--yes, those long, blue lines of cordilleras just above you are the foot-hills, and those tall, white peaks standing afar off beyond, and appearing ethereal and ghost-like in the dim distance, are the ice-clad summits of the “snowy-range.”

“Those are the Rocky Mountains”--yes, and _these_ are the great plains. Oh, what a beautiful, green, wild world this is! How can one live in such a land and not be glad! It is a day of God, and the wild herds of the plain are grazing all around us. They range in droves among the low, round hills near by, or lick “alike” in the deep, basin-like valleys below, where often we catch the shimmer of some fairy lake.

“Those are the Rocky Mountains”--yes, and as we ride along, across the smooth, white plain, with the warm sunlight streaming down from a cloudless heaven upon us--streaming down through an atmosphere as clear as glass--as sparkling and as buoyant as any air upon the earth--as we ride along, gazing out across the great, green world and up at the blue sky, and then upon those stupendous peaks and everlasting snow-clad hills, my spirit thrills with a deep delight, and I feel a something, stranger, that you know not of.

“Those are the Rocky Mountains”--yes, and oh! I was born, as it were, under the very shadow of their snow-covered heads. While yet a baby in my mother’s arms I first gazed out upon those everlasting hills.

While yet a little child I used to draw mountains upon my slate. Rude sketches they were, no doubt, but how could I live and love, and yet not limn that which so much I loved? I knew not then of poet or painter’s art, nor ever dreamed that I myself should rhyme some day, and paint and write and limn with words, and tell men of my childhood’s dreams.

In boyhood days how often have I lain upon the mossy river brim and gazed out, through the vistas of the leafy trees, up at those blue, bright, snow-capped peaks beyond! How often, among the warm, green meadow grass, gay with May-flowers, have I wallowed just below those rocky heights! How often, in those glad young days, have I longed to climb those dizzy cliffs and crags and towers, or to rove among those caves and rifts and dells and canons deep, to prospect there for gold and gems and fruits and blossoms rare! Oh, how I longed to cross over the range, as other boys and bearded men had done! It was there that the Indians located their “Happy Hunting Grounds,” or the “Regions of the Blest.” Over there they said it was that the good Indians went after death. I had also heard men tell of California--“a delightful, warm country,” they said, “where it is always summer, and where fruits and flowers are plentiful and can always be had just for the picking.” They said that a great, wide, blue sea, called the Pacific Ocean, rippled along the coast of that green, warm land, and that the beach of the sea was strewn with many-colored and richly-tinted shells. How I longed to visit that glorious sunset land, just over the range, but in my childish innocence I imagined it must be an almost life-long and herculean task to surmount those stupendous and lofty heights where the snows of centuries lay piled up in great banks and drifts hundreds of feet in depth. I also fancied that I could sometimes see the forms of giant warriors stalking about among those wild crags and cliffs. In my belief they were the guardian watchers of those “Happy Hunting Grounds” of the Indians. I regarded them as sentries stationed along the outposts of that blessed place, whose duty it was to turn back all adventurous travelers whom they might catch attempting to enter that terrestrial paradise of the great, wild West.

One day, while my father, my mother, my brothers and myself were on a plumming and raspberrying excursion, my father made a remark that awoke a new superstition within my soul. My mother was driving our wagon, which was drawn by a yoke of gentle oxen, through the level of a beautiful vale, surrounded by lofty peaks, when my father, looking up, said to me in a mysterious kind of way, “My son, the Genus of the hills is looking down with wonder, for lo, behold, yonder is Madam Progress driving by in her ox-propeller car.” Ever after that I had a superstitious dread of this same Genus of the hills, and it was not until long years afterward, when the dry learning and colorless truths of youth had begun to dispel the flowery fancies, poetical fictions and glorious myths of my childhood, that I dared to explore or venture far into those same Genus-haunted hills.--_From May Day Dreams, published 1890._

FINIS.

_The price of_ HAPPY DAYS _in cloth is $1, prepaid. Copies may be had by addressing The Reed Publishing Company, 1756 Champa Street, Denver, Colo. Remit by express or post-office money order, bank draft or registered letter._

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Transcriber’s note

Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Hyphenation has been standardized.

Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following changes:

Page iv: “Premit, therefore, this” “Permit, therefore, this” Page ix: “felicitious, although” “felicitous, although” Page 48: “God’s debator and ye” “God’s debater and ye” Page 48: “Listern, ye doubting” “Listen, ye doubting” Page 69: “a cottag Manitou” “a cottage at Manitou” Page 87: “patriarchial trees of the” “patriarchal trees of the”