A few miles north of Yosemite,
July 13th, [1869.]
We are camped this afternoon upon the bank of the stream that falls into
the valley opposite Hutchings’ hotel (Yosemite Falls). We are perhaps
three miles from the valley.
This Yosemite stream is flowing rapidly here in a small flowery meadow,
not meandering like a meadow stream but going straight on with ripples
and rapids. It derives its waters from a basin corresponding in every
respect with its own sublimity and loneliness.
July 17th. We are now camped in a splendid grove of spruce only one mile
from the Yosemite wall. The stream that goes spraying past us in the
rocks reaches the valley by that cañon between the Yosemite Falls and
the North Dome. I left my companions in charge of the sheep for the last
three days and have had a most heavenly piece of life among the domes
and falls and rocks of the north side and upper end of the valley.
Yesterday I found the stream that flows through Crystal Lake past the
South Dome and followed it three miles among cascades and rapids to the
dome. Were you at the top or bottom of the upper Yosemite Falls? Were
you at the top of the Nevada Falls? Were you in that Adiantum cave by
the Vernal Falls? Have you had any view of the valley excepting from
the Mariposa Trail? How long were you in Sequoia Grove?
We will, perhaps, be here about two weeks; then we will go to the “big
meadows” twelve miles towards the summit, where we will remain until we
start for the plains some time near the end of September. The kind of
meeting you have had with Yosemite answers well enough for most people,
but it will not do for you. When will you return to the mountains?
I had a letter from Professor Butler a short time ago, saying that he
would probably visit California this month in company with a man of war.
Remember me to the Doctor and to Allie and Ned. Please send me a letter
by the middle of September to Snellings. I have no hope of hearing from
you after we start for the Big Meadows.
Two miles below La Grange,
October 3rd, 1869.
My summer in the third heaven of the Sierras is past. I am again in the
smooth open world of plains. I received three of your eight notes, which
for mountain correspondence is about as might be expected. I learned by
a San Francisco newspaper that Dr. Carr had accepted a professorship in
the University, and Prof. Butler told me about a month ago that he had
gone to Madison to fetch his cabinet, etc. Therefore I know that you
are making a fixed home and that you will yet see the mountains and the
Joaquin plains. We were camped within a mile or two of the Yosemite north
wall for three weeks. I used to go to the North Dome or Yosemite Falls
most every day to sketch and listen to the waters. One day I went down
into the valley by the cañon opposite Hutchings and found Prof. Butler
near the bridge between the Vernal and Nevada falls. He was in company
with Gen. Alvord. He was in the valley only a few hours, his time being
controlled by the General’s military clock, and I am pretty sure that
he saw just about nothing.
I am glad that the world does not miss me and that all of my days with
the Lord and his works are uncounted and unmeasured. I found the guide
who was with you. He said that you wished me to gather some cones for
you. I hope to see you soon in San Francisco and will fetch you specimens
of those which grow higher than you have been. I am sorry that you were
so short a time in the valley, but you will go again and remain a month
or two. I would like to spend a winter there to see the storms. We spent
most of the summer on the south fork of the Tuolumne near Castle and
Cathedral peaks, and oh, how unspeakable the glories of these higher
mountains. You have not yet caught a glimpse of the Sierra Nevadas. You
must go to Mono by the Bloody Cañon pass. I will not try to write the
grandeur I have seen all summer but I will copy you the notes of one
day from my journal.
“Sept. 2nd. Amount of cloudiness .08. Sky red evening and morning, not
usual crimson glow but separate clouds colored and anchored in dense
massive mountain forms. One red, bluffy cap is placed upon Castle
Peak and its companion to the south, but the smooth cone tower of the
castle is seen peering out over the top. Tiger Peak has a cloud cap
also of the grandest proportion and colors, and the extensive field of
clustered towers and peaks and domes where is stored the treasures of
snow belonging to the Merced and Tuolumne and Joaquin is embosomed in
bossy clouds of white. The grand Sierra Cathedral is overshadowed like
Sinai. Never before beheld such divine mingling of cloud and mountain.
Had a delightful walk upon the north wall. Ascended by a deep narrow
passage cut in the granite. Its borders are splendidly decorated with
ferns and blooming shrubs. The most delicate of plantlets in the gush
and ardor of full bloom in places called desolate and gloomy, where the
dwarfed and crumpled pines are felled with hail and rocks and wintry
snows; but as frail flowers of human kind are protected by the hand of
God, blooming joyfully through a long beautiful life in places and times
that are strewn with the wrecks of the powerful and the great, so in
these far mountains, where are the treasures of snow and storms, live
in safety and innocence these sweet, tender children of the plants. Had
looked long and well for Cassiope, but in all my long excursions failed
to find its dwelling-places and began to fear that we would never meet,
but had presentiment of finding it today, and as I passed a rock-shelf
after reaching the great gathered heaps of everlasting snow, something
seemed to whisper ‘Cassiope, Cassiope.’ That name was ‘driven in upon
me,’ as Calvinists say, and, looking around, behold the long-looked-for
mountain child!”
Farewell! I do not care to write much because you seem so near. I hope
that you will all be very happy in your new home and not feel too sorely
the separation from the loved places and people of Wisconsin.
Remember me to the Doctor and to all of your boys.