But at the time Emerson was getting old and could not go.

John Muir met me with a couple of packers and two mules to carry our tent, bedding, and food for a three days' trip.

The first night was clear, and we lay down in the darkening aisles of the great Sequoia grove.

The majestic trunks, beautiful in color and in symmetry, rose round us like the pillars of a mightier cathedral than ever was conceived even by the fervor of the Middle Ages.

Hermit thrushes sang beautifully in the evening, and again, with a burst of wonderful music, at dawn.