4
TWO FAMILIAR FACES.
sentinel of nature it was impossible not to recall what Byron said of the king of the Alps:
"Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crowned him long ago, On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds. With a diadem of snow."
The throne of rocks is always there, but the robe of clouds and crown of snow sometimes disappear under summer's sun. What a wonderful view is to be had from the top of this peak. As far as the eye can reach stretch the mountains in bluish billows, while beyond lie the plains, at first glance supposed to be the horizon.
From a lower level Long's Peak does not seem much higher than other peaks, but from its summit all surrounding mountains seem low and of nearly equal height.
It has been said that Mount Blanc has a wonderfully biblical effect, and that mountainous texts float uppermost in the mind. Probably different individuals would be differently affected, but however that may be, it is really impossible to appreciate the strength and beauty of some of these expressions without a vivid remembrance of mountain scenery. After a glance at these enduring mountains, how much stronger seem the "everlasting hills." Some massive boulder turning disdainfully from the sun and offering a shelter from his pitiless rays brings to recollection: "The shadow of a great rock in a weary land," and the
mountain streams in their wonderful purity seem not unfitting symbols of the "River of Life."
For brilliancy of coloring and delicacy of form the mountain flowers are remarkable. The valleys are like one vast fairy-land under foot. There are all shades of color, from the bright vetch and the everchanging aster to the delicate, gently swaying bluebell. These pretty bluebells seem to grow everywhere. Higher up on the mountain grow the fringed gentians from secluded nooks, the wild columbines, very beautiful, look out, and higher still on the bare rocks, sometimes on the edges of snow, grow delicate mosses and lichens, bearing little starlike flowers of delicate tints. It is not known that these flowers, like the edelweiss of the Alps, have connected with them any romantic legend, but their beauty would certainly excuse any fancies that might eling to them.
The glories of sunset in all climes have been painted by brush and pen. It would be useless to attempt to describe that beautiful sight, a mountain sunset; the sky with its delicately tinted clouds in the west of a rosy hue; and now these clouds of crimson and gold are "transmuted by sunset alchemy into a solid mass of burnished gold," finally changing to a dull, cold gray. And Phœbus Apollo has gone behind the dark mountains.
TWO FAMILIAR FACES.
BATES & FIELD'S PRIZE ORATION -BY J. B. CHAMBERLAIN.
"Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?"
In these words we picture the face of a man who has fallen, a man bowed low by the chastening rod of justice. Cardinal
Wolsey, once rich and haughty, followed by a glittering retinue of lords and ladies the intimate and counselor, Ay! a king for by his words the hand that swayed the mighty sceptre of English rule was guided