Rolled in his blanket in such a nest, Uncle Nathan
had passed hundreds of the most frigid winter nights.
One day we made an excursion of three miles through the woods to Bald
Mountain, following a dim trail. We saw, as we filed silently along,
plenty of signs of caribou, deer, and bear, but were not blessed with a
sight of either of the animals themselves. I noticed that
Uncle Nathan, in looking through the woods, did not hold his head as we
did, but thrust it slightly forward, and peered under the branches like
a deer or other wild creature.
The summit of Bald Mountain was the most impressive mountain-top I had
ever seen, mainly, perhaps, because it was one enormous crown of nearly
naked granite. The rock had that gray, elemental, eternal look which
granite alone has. One seemed to be face to face with the gods of the
fore-world. Like an atom, like a breath of to-day, we were suddenly
confronted by abysmal geologic time,--the eternities past and the
eternities to come. The enormous cleavage of the rocks, the appalling
cracks and fissures, the rent boulders, the smitten granite floors,
gave one a new sense of the power of heat and frost.
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