On the road which
leads from Nice to the town of Grasse, where are located the
famous perfumeries, you will pass orange orchards, flower farms,
and charming meadows with patches of wild broom lying iii vast
sheets of gold. The dark gray rocks are filled with pits and
holes, and when viewed from a distance resemble the homes of the
cliff dwellers. The views here are frowning and awesome.
As you near the Gorge du Loup you will see Gourdon perched far,
far up on its rocky throne, whose gray, weatherbeaten buildings
give to this wild scenery an infinite charm. You are sure that
you never can reach this far-distant town, but are agreeably
surprised when you gaze at the vastness of the gray, sterile
mountain sides you have left. Far below you the terraced
vineyards rise in emerald waves against their silvery background
of century-old olives.
Yet we have experienced almost as strong emotions of vagueness,
terror, sublimity, strength, and beauty while gazing upon the
vast panorama of groups and clusters of chaotic peaks that
stretch away in almost endless variety of form in confused and
disorderly arrangement. Here almost interminable forests are
only interrupted with beautiful lakes that now and then peep
from their hiding places in vast expanse of forest-crowned
wilderness. But here is beauty as well as grandeur. "Those three-
months European travelers who hurry through our lowlands by
steam and perhaps take a night boat up the Hudson, Lake
Champlain, or St. Lawrence and presume to belittle our natural
scenery, are not the most reliable persons in the world."
Let them go to the summit of Mount Marcy on a clear day and look
out over the magnificent panorama spread out before them, and
they will not say we have no natural scenery worth viewing in
the Atlantic States from Canada to New Orleans, except Niagara
and Burlington. Here in every direction countless summits pierce
the sky, and the unnumbered miles of forests that clothe with
green garments the ridges and slopes of this vast wilderness,
who can ever forget them? How wonderful are these wild and
rugged scenes, still fresh from the hand of God! Call us idle
triflers if you will, but we shall ever try to read the messages
from these stone pages from the book of God, where all day long
the breezes whisper messages fuller of meaning than any lines
from the hand of man.
But to return to the view from the mountain peak, glorious,
indeed, is the scene spread out below you from Mount Marcy. How
unlike the Alps is the prospect you obtain from its summit.
True, you will see no snow-capped peaks and shining glaciers,
but what a chaos of gray and green mountains extend as far as
the eye can reach.
One writer gives this vivid description of the scene that meets
the enraptured gaze of the traveler here: "It looked as if the
Almighty had once set this vast earth rolling like the sea; and
then, in the midst of its maddest flow, bid all the gigantic
billows stop and congeal in their places, and there they stood,
just as He froze them grand and gloomy. There was the long
swell, and there the cresting, bursting billow - and there, too,
the deep, black, cavernous gulf." Those in our country who think
only the Alps and Apennines can inspire awe and veneration
should force their way through thick fir, dwarf evergreen and
deep moss to the top of Mount Marcy, where it pushes its rocky
forehead high into the heavens. Here in these beautiful wild
regions you will find lakes over whose waters you may glide in a
canoe, whose forest-clad shores seem never to have been marred
by the axe of civilization. Here as the sun sinks to repose amid
these purple mountains, and the last rays of light on their
waters seem like sheets of fluid gold, and the lonely cry of the
loon breaks the solitude, you too will feel that you do not need
to go to Europe for natural mountain beauty when such glorious
scenes lie spread out before you.
We shall never forget our first impression of Lake Colder,
perfectly embosomed among the gigantic mountains which rise it
all their wild and savage grandeur around it. What absolute
freedom and absence of conventional forms are found here by him
who loves Nature as God made it.
Toward Canada stretches the vast expanse of Lake Champlain with
its numerous islands, while along the eastern horizon the
distant Green mountains lift their granite summits, at whose
bases the charming city of Burlington lies dreamily silent
beneath its smoky veil. Far away to the north and west repose
many lakes. Some lie dark and silent beneath the shadows of
their guarding mountains, others reflect the shy above in
silvery blue sheen as if to cheer this vast and lonely solitude.
How your thoughts reach out toward the Infinite as the wondrous
vision unrolls before you! This interminable mass of different
shades of green and gray presents one of the most beautiful
scenes your eye ever gazed upon.
No wonder Christ gave to the world his glorious lessons from a
mountain top; in which he urged the disciples to be worthy
examples to their fellow men. Up in these everlasting hills,
where He has manifested His wonderful power and left a symbol of
His omnipotence, we can draw nearer the Creator than elsewhere.
How puny, how insignificant seems man and all his works out here
in these unbounded solitudes! "I will lift up mine eyes to the
hills from whence cometh my help," chants the psalmist.
Wandering among these glorious hills that rise above the distant
horizon, or stretch away in endless majesty from you, as your
heart swells over the thrilling scene, you too shall feel the
presence of a great and mighty power, and realize in part what
the psalmist meant.
