And what a magical light it is!
There are other trees in this forest, besides the Sequoias; but it is on
the redwoods alone that the light concentrates, just as limelight is
turned upon the leading characters of a stage drama. They burn with their
own ruddy fire, while their neighbour trees (overgrown with golden-green
moss that makes sleeves for outstretched arms, and gold embroidery for
dark drapery) gleam out among the redwoods' flaming pillars like lighted
candelabra. I shall see those lights behind my eyelids to-night, as I saw
the sunset light on Stonehenge; the moon touching the Giralda of Seville;
and my first alpenglow. But what Stonehenge is to England, the Giralda to
Spain, and the Alps to Switzerland, that, I think, is the Mariposa Forest
of giant Sequoias to California.
"If I had been an atheist, I believe I should suddenly have been taught
the lesson of God among the great redwoods. And nobody could be
heavy-hearted here, or frivolous. I feel that the same light which burns
like fire in these trees burns in my veins; a vast wave of life,
vitalizing all creation and making it kin. I am a poor relation of these
wonderful giants. Also I am a cousin of the robins and chipmunks that
shared our picnic luncheon, and the dinner we finished a little while ago.
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