A machine would have set them down in
Clear Creek Canyon before the sun could climb high enough to look over the
canyon walls. "But that"--explained the novelist, as they trudged
leisurely along between rows of palms that bordered the orange groves on
either side of their road, and sensed the mystery that marks the birth of
a new day--"but that is not a proper way to go to the mountains.
"The mountains"--he continued, with his eyes upon the distant
heights--"are not seen by those who would visit them with a rattle and
clatter and rush and roar--as one would visit the cities of men. They are
to be seen only by those who have the grace to go quietly; who have the
understanding to go thoughtfully; the heart to go lovingly; and the spirit
to go worshipfully. They are to be approached, not in the manner of one
going to a horse-race, or a circus, but in the mood of one about to enter
a great cathedral; or, indeed, of one seeking admittance to the very
throne-room of God. When going to the mountains, one should take time to
feel them drawing near. They are never intimate with those who hurry. Mere
sight-seers seldom see much of anything. If possible,"--insisted the
speaker, smiling gravely upon his companion,--"one should always spend, at
least, a full day in the approach.
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