You who are wearied with the day's work, and would hear of the wonders of the Himalaya, let yourself float in your imagination, out across the seas, over the parched sand of the desert, across the arid plains of India, and up into the everlasting snows where the chill night Winds are sighing. There, below you, lies my camp; in the clearing midst the dark pine forests, Where the log fire blazes and crackles, and Where the silver stream murmurs of the thousand mysteries of the mountains.
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