* * * * *

Yesterday's three-mile diameter of the horizon has been multiplied by
ten. There is a far sweep of the landscape which makes the soul
thrill. This is the supreme pleasure of the prairies. The Iowa man who
goes to the Rockies is at first awed and charmed by the mountain
grandeur, but soon he pines like a caged bird. The high peaks shut him
in as a prison. He sighs for a sight of the plains, for the feeling of
room and liberty that belongs to the wider sky-reach. On the prairies
the love of truth and liberty grows as easily as the morning light.

The sun rose clear and golden and now is almost white, so clear is the
atmosphere. The snow crystals break the white light into all the
prismatic colors,--rubies and garnets, emeralds and sapphires, topaz
and amethyst, all sparkle in the brilliant light. The shadow of the
solitary elm's trunk, here on the prairie, has very clear cut edges
and is tinted with blue. The finely reticulated shadows of the
graceful twigs are sharply shadowed on the snow beneath,--a winter
picture worthy of a master hand.

In the enjoyment of such beauty as this is the only real wealth. Money
cannot buy it. Hirelings cannot take it from the lowly and give it to
the proud. No trust can corner it. No canvas can screen it from the
eye of him who has not silver to give the cathedral care-taker.
February, like June, may be had by the poorest comer. But it is like
Ruskin's Faubourg St. Germain. Before you may enjoy it you shall be
worthy of it.

_"Such beauty, varying in the light,
Of living nature, cannot be portrayed