clarice e. richards

A Tenderfoot Bride : Tales from an Old Ranch

I got up and stood by the window looking out upon a world of silver. Myriads of stars shone faintly in the heavens dimmed by the glory of the moon, the pale outline of the mountain was just visible, and, as on that first day when my heart was so heavy, I felt the sense of confusion give way to peace.

From the vast spaces, under the guardianship of that commanding summit, we had gained a new sense of proportion, freedom from hampering trivialities and a broader vision of life and its responsibilities.

Standing there in the moonlight facing the mountain, I saw in it more than a symbol and source of strength; to me it had become indeed the abiding place of a God.

Looking back over the years, all the changes revealed only the evolution of a wondrous plan. We had launched our frail barque in the midst of the prairie sea at the ebb of the tide of the wild, lawless days of the West; with the flow we had been carried through the years of a well-ordered pastoral existence to the era of agricultural productivity, and on each succeeding wave we had seen civilization borne higher and higher toward the ultimate goal set by the Great Spirit.

Ours had been, indeed, a wonderful experience.