Whether in the morning when
the pine needles glistened in the bright light; at noon when the
heat flowed in tremulous waves; or at evening when the last rosy
beam gladdened the west, his song was alike full of contentment
and rarest melody.
As we proceeded on our journey we beheld country homes
charmingly embowered among their trees and vines, yet the region
still retains that wild and primeval beauty that defies
civilization.
Boys and men were busy making hay and their industry proclaimed
that they had heeded the proverb of "make hay while the sun
shines." Now and then herds of cattle were grazing or standing
up to their knees in the cool of streams. What pictures of
homely contentment they made! How much they add to the beauty of
pastoral scenes!
More and more we were impressed with the grandeur and grace of
the restful, flowing outlines of these mountains. With the light
gray of their granite walls and the vivid green of their
forests, they make beautiful harmony.
We paused along a beautiful sheet of water, Echo lake. A bugler
whom some tourists paid for his crude attempts was doing his
best (which was none too good) to awake the echoes. How harsh
and grating were the tones he made, seeming like the bleat of a
choking calf; yet, with what marvelous sweetness were those
rasping tones transformed by the nymphs of the mountains.
