Somehow
the park seems to become the natural limit of our interests so
far as they appear in conversation at table.
The last grand
aurora, the prospect of a snow-storm, track and sign of elk and
grizzly, rumors of a bighorn herd near the lake, the canyons in
which the Texan cattle were last seen, the merits of different
rifles, the progress of two obvious love affairs, the probability
of some one coming up from the Plains with letters, "Mountain
Jim's" latest mood or escapade, and the merits of his dog "Ring"
as compared with those of Evans's dog "Plunk," are among the
topics which are never abandoned as exhausted.
On Sunday work is nominally laid aside, but most of the men go
out hunting or fishing till the evening, when we have the
harmonium and much sacred music and singing in parts. To be
alone in the park from the afternoon till the last glory of the
afterglow has faded, with no books but a Bible and Prayer-book,
is truly delightful. No worthier temple for a "Te Deum" or
"Gloria in Excelsis" could be found than this "temple not made
with hands," in which one may worship without being distracted by
the sight of bonnets of endless form, and curiously intricate
"back hair," and countless oddities of changing fashion.
I shall not soon forget my first night here.
Somewhat dazed by the rarefied air, entranced by the glorious
beauty, slightly puzzled by the motley company, whose faces
loomed not always quite distinctly through the cloud of smoke
produced by eleven pipes, I went to my solitary cabin at nine,
attended by Evans.
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