The lower slopes were entirely clothed with yellow or
reddish foliage. Between the woods and snow-line lay extensive
pastures or meadows, if they might be so called, though I saw nothing
whatever that at all resembled the grass of similar regions on Earth.
Whatever foliage I saw--as yet I had not passed near anything that
could be called a tree, and very few shrubs--consisted distinctly of
leaves analogous to those of our deciduous trees, chiefly of three
shapes: a sort of square rounded at the angles, with short projecting
fingers; an oval, slightly pointed where it joined the stalk; and
lanceolate or sword-like blades of every size, from two inches to four
feet in length. Nearly all were of a dull yellow or copper-red tinge.
None were as fine as the beech-leaf, none succulent or fleshy; nothing
resembling the blades of grass or the bristles of the pine and
cedar tribes was visible.
My path now wound steadily downward at a slope of perhaps one in eight
along the hillside, obliging me to turn my back to the mountains,
while my view in front was cut off by a sharp cross-jutting ridge
immediately, before me.
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