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limitations, I must write, at least a few words, concerning a trip finished by us this afternoon. Early yesterday morning Mr. Church, Mr Bulson (an artist from Boston) and the only other guest now in this valley - myself and two guides, and two faithful dogs started from the top of Panther Mountain. We reached the summit during the afternoon and built our Balsam Camp before sunset, which we named Camp Church, with proper ceremonies. While eating our supper, the evening star in its pale beauty replaced a brilliant sunset, then came the wonderful calm and peace of night in the mountains, made irresistibly mysterious by the unfamiliar sounds of the forest, the subtle harmony of the procession of the stars, the changeful and unsubstantial reflections of campfire on trees, rocks and atmosphere, (huge shadows of our own figures thrown against the mountain mist) Later the revelation of the morning star then the immortal beauty of dawn, and the discovery of another and a new day with its prophecies of life and activity. The experiences of the night (the most perfect in every beautiful sight and sound I can recall) seemed to each of our party a personal gift, created for his inspiration.  We broke 

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