And now, at last, we were fairly in the renowned SOUTH PASS, and
whirling gaily along, high above the common world. We were perched upon
the extreme summit of the great range of the Rocky Mountains, toward
which we had been climbing, patiently climbing, ceaselessly climbing,
for days and nights together—and about us was gathered a convention of
Nature’s kings that stood ten, twelve, and even thirteen thousand feet
high—grand old fellows who would have to stoop to see Mount Washington,
in the twilight. We were in such an airy elevation above the creeping
populations of the earth, that now and then when the obstructing crags
stood out of the way it seemed that we could look around and abroad and
contemplate the whole great globe, with its dissolving views of
mountains, seas, and continents stretching away through the mystery of
the summer haze.