The philosophy of the mountains, in the classic ages of Greece and Rome, inclined but little to any analysis of their grosser materials of earth and stone. The poetic and ideal were exclusively associated with their structures and form. The dii majores dwelt upon, and thundered from, their lofty summits. The clouds hovered in peaceful majesty over their council of sage or fierce debate. The elements were the ready ministers of their will; and Oreads, Dryads, and Naiads, peopling all the hills, forests, and streams, were the creations of that principle of the inner man, which has always searched for the spiritual behind and beyond the tangible attributes of Nature. Hence, too, the gnomes of the caverns, the spirits of the mists, the fairies of the glens, the kelpies of the torrents, were all the embodiment of forms, which fancy, in her later superstitions, has cast around the mountain landscape, with the witchery at once of the terrible and beautiful. The charm that spell-bound the human mind for ages, is not dissolved when, with ruder intent, we traverse these rocky solitudes, listening to the echo of our obedient hammer, learning the secrets of the universe amidst the voices of the everlasting hills, and seeing the wonders of the material world throwing light on the wonders of the spiritual. We are reminded, among the mountains, of one of the first and loveliest of all material things, the creation of light. Loving them for their own sakes, as well as for the legends of the old world with which they are everywhere inscribed, the geologist takes to the hills with the first faint fresh streak of dawn. Emerging with earliest day from the somber shades of the forest which, like night, invests the prospects with its own sadness and gloom, speedily a scene of joy and activity bursts upon the sight. The light comes upon you like a real tangible thing. You see it glinting and breaking on the lofty ridge, then nearing down along the brown slope of the mountain, here projecting in long bright lines through the trees, and there—delicious, golden morn! first-born of Nature’s children, harbinger of life and gladness. How beautiful are thy first footsteps upon the heath-clad mountains! What a brood of gloomy thoughts thou dispellest, chasing them before thee, like yonder envious mists rising lazily from the plains, valleys, and streams, which they would fain hide from the eyes that now revel amid their exuberant loveliness. These lofty peaks are worthy altars for the beacon-fires of the orb of day, after he has finished his journey through the nations; and comes back to us, over the floating splendor of the sea, in the eastern heavens. And see! he hath lit a hundred on these splintered summits, which blaze now as they blazed centuries ago, and diminish not!