August 3. Had a wonderful day. Found Professor Butler as the compass-needle finds the pole. So last evening’s telepathy, transcendental revelation, or whatever else it may be called, was true; for, strange to say, he had just entered the valley by way of the Coulterville Trail and was coming up the valley past El Capitan when his presence struck me. Had he then looked toward the North Dome with a good glass when it first came in sight, he might have seen me jump up from my work and run toward him. This seems the one well-defined marvel11 of my life of the kind called supernatural; for, absorbed in glad Nature, spirit-rappings, second sight, ghost stories, etc., have never interested me since boyhood, seeming comparatively useless and infinitely12 less wonderful than Nature’s open, harmonious13, songful, sunny, everyday beauty.
This morning, when I thought of having to appear among tourists at a hotel, I was[Pg 181] troubled because I had no suitable clothes, and at best am desperately14 bashful and shy. I was determined15 to go, however, to see my old friend after two years among strangers; got on a clean pair of overalls16, a cashmere shirt, and a sort of jacket,—the best my camp wardrobe afforded,—tied my notebook on my belt, and strode away on my strange journey, followed by Carlo. I made my way through the gap discovered last evening, which proved to be Indian Cañon. There was no trail in it, and the rocks and brush were so rough that Carlo frequently called me back to help him down precipitous places. Emerging from the cañon shadows, I found a man making hay on one of the meadows, and asked him whether Professor Butler was in the valley. “I don’t know,” he replied; “but you can easily find out at the hotel. There are but few visitors in the valley just now. A small party came in yesterday afternoon, and I heard some one called Professor Butler, or Butterfield, or some name like that.”
In front of the gloomy hotel I found a tourist party adjusting their fishing tackle. They all stared at me in silent wonderment, as if I had been seen dropping down through the trees from the clouds, mostly, I suppose, on account of my strange garb18. Inquiring for[Pg 182] the office, I was told it was locked, and that the landlord was away, but I might find the landlady19, Mrs. Hutchings, in the parlor20. I entered in a sad state of embarrassment21, and after I had waited in the big, empty room and knocked at several doors the landlady at length appeared, and in reply to my question said she rather thought Professor Butler was in the valley, but to make sure, she would bring the register from the office. Among the names of the last arrivals I soon discovered the Professor’s familiar handwriting, at the sight of which bashfulness vanished; and having learned that his party had gone up the valley,—probably to the Vernal and Nevada Falls,—I pushed on in glad pursuit, my heart now sure of its prey22. In less than an hour I reached the head of the Nevada Cañon at the Vernal Fall, and just outside of the spray discovered a distinguished-looking gentleman, who, like everybody else I have seen to-day, regarded me curiously23 as I approached. When I made bold to inquire if he knew where Professor Butler was, he seemed yet more curious to know what could possibly have happened that required a messenger for the Professor, and instead of answering my question he asked with military sharpness, “Who wants him?” “I want him,” I replied with equal sharp[Pg 183]ness. “Why? Do you know him?” “Yes,” I said. “Do you know him?” Astonished that any one in the mountains could possibly know Professor Butler and find him as soon as he had reached the valley, he came down to meet the strange mountaineer on equal terms, and courteously24 replied, “Yes, I know Professor Butler very well. I am General Alvord, and we were fellow students in Rutland, Vermont, long ago, when we were both young.” “But where is he now?” I persisted, cutting short his story. “He has gone beyond the falls with a companion, to try to climb that big rock, the top of which you see from here.” His guide now volunteered the information that it was the Liberty Cap Professor Butler and his companion had gone to climb, and that if I waited at the head of the fall I should be sure to find them on their way down. I therefore climbed the ladders alongside the Vernal Fall, and was pushing forward, determined to go to the top of Liberty Cap rock in my hurry, rather than wait, if I should not meet my friend sooner. So heart-hungry at times may one be to see a friend in the flesh, however happily full and care-free one’s life may be. I had gone but a short distance, however, above the brow of the Vernal Fall when I caught sight of him in the brush and rocks, half erect25, groping his[Pg 184] way, his sleeves rolled up, vest open, hat in his hand, evidently very hot and tired. When he saw me coming he sat down on a boulder26 to wipe the perspiration27 from his brow and neck, and taking me for one of the valley guides, he inquired the way to the fall ladders. I pointed28 out the path marked with little piles of stones, on seeing which he called his companion, saying that the way was found; but he did not yet recognize me. Then I stood directly in front of him, looked him in the face, and held out my hand. He thought I was offering to assist him in rising. “Never mind,” he said. Then I said, “Professor Butler, don’t you know me?” “I think not,” he replied; but catching29 my eye, sudden recognition followed, and astonishment30 that I should have found him just when he was lost in the brush and did not know that I was within hundreds of miles of him. “John Muir, John Muir, where have you come from?” Then I told him the story of my feeling his presence when he entered the valley last evening, when he was four or five miles distant, as I sat sketching on the North Dome. This, of course, only made him wonder the more. Below the foot of the Vernal Fall the guide was waiting with his saddle-horse, and I walked along the trail, chatting all the way back to the hotel, talking[Pg 185] of school days, friends in Madison, of the students, how each had prospered31, etc., ever and anon gazing at the stupendous rocks about us, now growing indistinct in the gloaming, and again quoting from the poets—a rare ramble32.
It was late ere we reached the hotel, and General Alvord was waiting the Professor’s arrival for dinner. When I was introduced he seemed yet more astonished than the Professor at my descent from cloudland and going straight to my friend without knowing in any ordinary way that he was even in California. They had come on direct from the East, had not yet visited any of their friends in the state, and considered themselves undiscoverable. As we sat at dinner, the General leaned back in his chair, and looking down the table, thus introduced me to the dozen guests or so, including the staring fisherman mentioned above: “This man, you know, came down out of these huge, trackless mountains, you know, to find his friend Professor Butler here, the very day he arrived; and how did he know he was here? He just felt him, he says. This is the queerest case of Scotch34 farsightedness I ever heard of,” etc., etc. While my friend quoted Shakespeare: “More things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philos[Pg 186]ophy,” “As the sun, ere he has risen, sometimes paints his image in the firmament35, e’en so the shadows of events precede the events, and in to-day already walks to-morrow.”
Had a long conversation, after dinner, over Madison days. The Professor wants me to promise to go with him, sometime, on a camping trip in the Hawaiian Islands, while I tried to get him to go back with me to camp in the high Sierra. But he says, “Not now.” He must not leave the General; and I was surprised to learn they are to leave the valley to-morrow or next day. I’m glad I’m not great enough to be missed in the busy world.
August 4. It seemed strange to sleep in a paltry36 hotel chamber37 after the spacious38 magnificence and luxury of the starry39 sky and silver fir grove40. Bade farewell to my friend and the General. The old soldier was very kind, and an interesting talker. He told me long stories of the Florida Seminole war, in which he took part, and invited me to visit him in Omaha. Calling Carlo, I scrambled41 home through the Indian Cañon gate, rejoicing, pitying the poor Professor and General, bound by clocks, almanacs, orders, duties, etc., and compelled to dwell with lowland care and dust and din33, where Nature is covered and her voice smothered42, while the poor, insignificant43 wan[Pg 187]derer enjoys the freedom and glory of God’s wilderness.
Apart from the human interest of my visit to-day, I greatly enjoyed Yosemite, which I had visited only once before, having spent eight days last spring in rambling44 amid its rocks and waters. Wherever we go in the mountains, or indeed in any of God’s wild fields, we find more than we seek. Descending45 four thousand feet in a few hours, we enter a new world—climate, plants, sounds, inhabitants, and scenery all new or changed. Near camp the goldcup oak forms sheets of chaparral, on top of which we may make our beds. Going down the Indian Cañon we observe this little bush changing by regular gradations to a large bush, to a small tree, and then larger, until on the rocky taluses near the bottom of the valley we find it developed into a broad, wide-spreading, gnarled, picturesque46 tree from four to eight feet in diameter, and forty or fifty feet high. Innumerable are the forms of water displayed. Every gliding47 reach, cascade48, and fall has characters of its own. Had a good view of the Vernal and Nevada, two of the main falls of the valley, less than a mile apart, and offering striking differences in voice, form, color, etc. The Vernal, four hundred feet high and about seventy-[Pg 188]five or eighty feet wide, drops smoothly49 over a round-lipped precipice50 and forms a superb apron51 of embroidery52, green and white, slightly folded and fluted53, maintaining this form nearly to the bottom, where it is suddenly veiled in quick-flying billows of spray and mist, in which the afternoon sunbeams play with ravishing beauty of rainbow colors. The Nevada is white from its first appearance as it leaps out into the freedom of the air. At the head it presents a twisted appearance, by an overfolding of the current from striking on the side of its channel just before the first free out-bounding leap is made. About two thirds of the way down, the hurrying throng54 of comet-shaped masses glance on an inclined part of the face of the precipice and are beaten into yet whiter foam55, greatly expanded, and sent bounding outward, making an indescribably glorious show, especially when the afternoon sunshine is pouring into it. In this fall—one of the most wonderful in the world—the water does not seem to be under the dominion56 of ordinary laws, but rather as if it were a living creature, full of the strength of the mountains and their huge, wild joy.
From beneath heavy throbbing57 blasts of spray the broken river is seen emerging in ragged58 boulder-chafed strips. These are speed[Pg 189]ily gathered into a roaring torrent59, showing that the young river is still gloriously alive. On it goes, shouting, roaring, exulting60 in its strength, passes through a gorge61 with sublime62 display of energy, then suddenly expands on a gently inclined pavement, down which it rushes in thin sheets and folds of lace-work into a quiet pool,—“Emerald Pool,” as it is called,—a stopping-place, a period separating two grand sentences. Resting here long enough to part with its foam-bells and gray mixtures of air, it glides63 quietly to the verge64 of the Vernal precipice in a broad sheet and makes its new display in the Vernal Fall; then more rapids and rock tossings down the cañon, shaded by live oak, Douglas spruce, fir, maple65, and dogwood. It receives the Illilouette tributary66, and makes a long sweep out into the level, sun-filled valley to join the other streams which, like itself, have danced and sung their way down from snowy heights to form the main Merced—the river of Mercy. But of this there is no end, and life, when one thinks of it, is so short. Never mind, one day in the midst of these divine glories is well worth living and toiling67 and starving for.
Before parting with Professor Butler he gave me a book, and I gave him one of my pencil sketches68 for his little son Henry, who[Pg 190] is a favorite of mine. He used to make many visits to my room when I was a student. Never shall I forget his patriotic69 speeches for the union, mounted on a tall stool, when he was only six years old.
It seems strange that visitors to Yosemite should be so little influenced by its novel grandeur70, as if their eyes were bandaged and their ears stopped. Most of those I saw yesterday were looking down as if wholly unconscious of anything going on about them, while the sublime rocks were trembling with the tones of the mighty71 chanting congregation of waters gathered from all the mountains round about, making music that might draw angels out of heaven. Yet respectable-looking, even wise-looking people were fixing bits of worms on bent72 pieces of wire to catch trout73. Sport they called it. Should church-goers try to pass the time fishing in baptismal fonts while dull sermons were being preached, the so-called sport might not be so bad; but to play in the Yosemite temple, seeking pleasure in the pain of fishes struggling for their lives, while God himself is preaching his sublimest74 water and stone sermons!
Now I’m back at the camp-fire, and cannot help thinking about my recognition of my friend’s presence in the valley while he was four or five miles away, and while I had no means of[Pg 191] knowing that he was not thousands of miles away. It seems supernatural, but only because it is not understood. Anyhow, it seems silly to make so much of it, while the natural and common is more truly marvelous and mysterious than the so-called supernatural. Indeed most of the miracles we hear of are infinitely less wonderful than the commonest of natural phenomena75, when fairly seen. Perhaps the invisible rays that struck me while I sat at work on the Dome are something like those which attract and repel76 people at first sight, concerning which so much nonsense has been written. The worst apparent effect of these mysterious odd things is blindness to all that is divinely common. Hawthorne, I fancy, could weave one of his weird77 romances out of this little telepathic episode, the one strange marvel of my life, probably replacing my good old Professor by an attractive woman.
August 5. We were awakened78 this morning before daybreak by the furious barking of Carlo and Jack17 and the sound of stampeding sheep. Billy fled from his punk bed to the fire, and refused to stir into the darkness to try to gather the scattered79 flock, or ascertain80 the nature of the disturbance81. It was a bear attack, as we afterward82 learned, and I suppose little was gained by attempting to do anything be[Pg 192]fore daylight. Nevertheless, being anxious to know what was up, Carlo and I groped our way through the woods, guided by the rustling83 sound made by fragments of the flock, not fearing the bear, for I knew that the runaways84 would go from their enemy as far as possible and Carlo’s nose was also to be depended upon. About half a mile east of the corral we overtook twenty or thirty of the flock and succeeded in driving them back; then turning to the westward85, we traced another band of fugitives86 and got them back to the flock. After daybreak I discovered the remains87 of a sheep carcass, still warm, showing that Bruin must have been enjoying his early mutton breakfast while I was seeking the runaways. He had eaten about half of it. Six dead sheep lay in the corral, evidently smothered by the crowding and piling up of the flock against the side of the corral wall when the bear entered. Making a wide circuit of the camp, Carlo and I discovered a third band of fugitives and drove them back to camp. We also discovered another dead sheep half eaten, showing there had been two of the shaggy freebooters at this early breakfast. They were easily traced. They had each caught a sheep, jumped over the corral fence with them, carrying them as a cat carries a mouse, laid them at the foot of fir trees a hundred yards or so[Pg 193] back from the corral, and eaten their fill. After breakfast I set out to seek more of the lost, and found seventy-five at a considerable distance from camp. In the afternoon I succeeded, with Carlo’s help, in getting them back to the flock. I don’t know whether all are together again or not. I shall make a big fire this evening and keep watch.
When I asked Billy why he made his bed against the corral in rotten wood, when so many better places offered, he replied that he “wished to be as near the sheep as possible in case bears should attack them.” Now that the bears have come, he has moved his bed to the far side of the camp, and seems afraid that he may be mistaken for a sheep.
This has been mostly a sheep day, and of course studies have been interrupted. Nevertheless, the walk through the gloom of the woods before the dawn was worth while, and I have learned something about these noble bears. Their tracks are very telling, and so are their breakfasts. Scarce a trace of clouds to-day, and of course our ordinary midday thunder is wanting.
August 6. Enjoyed the grand illumination of the camp grove, last night, from the fire we made to frighten the bears—compensation for loss of sleep and sheep. The noble pillars[Pg 194] of verdure, vividly88 aglow89, seemed to shoot into the sky like the flames that lighted them. Nevertheless, one of the bears paid us another visit, as if more attracted than repelled90 by the fire, climbed into the corral, killed a sheep and made off with it without being seen, while still another was lost by trampling91 and suffocation92 against the side of the corral. Now that our mutton has been tasted, I suppose it will be difficult to put a stop to the ravages93 of these freebooters.
The Don arrived to-day from the lowlands with provisions and a letter. On learning the losses he had sustained, he determined to move the flock at once to the Upper Tuolumne region, saying that the bears would be sure to visit the camp every night as long as we stayed, and that no fire or noise we might make would avail to frighten them. No clouds save a few thin, lustrous94 touches on the eastern horizon. Thunder heard in the distance.
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1
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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boulder
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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din
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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firmament
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paltry
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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tributary
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| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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68
sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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70
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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sublimest
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| 伟大的( sublime的最高级 )； 令人赞叹的； 极端的； 不顾后果的 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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runaways
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| （轻而易举的）胜利( runaway的名词复数 ) | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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90
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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