Before the echo of the voice or the footsteps of the white man resounded upon the American, the country was a “perpetual park”—a forest primeval—a work of art, beautiful in its simplicity, amazing in its vastness, interesting in its variations—was this wilderness of ours. Here in Monterey Natural Park, lovely tree-clad mountains, glorious in their pristine ruggedness, are little changed since the days of the “Red Man.” Most outstanding and commanding of them all is historic and popular “Bee Rock,” crowned with the hemlock and pine, bordered with rhododendron and mountain laurel, and untouched by the ruthless of improvement. It is immersed in the ozone-laden atmosphere of the Cumberlands and ever charged with a vernal freshness so that the youth of the soul is made to seem reborn, again and again. For the Red men of the woods, the towering summit of “Bee Rock” served as a sort of mystical shrine with the sense of nearness of the “Great Spirit.” From this point, entrancing views beguile the weary spirit of man; and vistas like this seem to crown a day with a kind of exulting splendor. Go where you may, your travels are not complete until you have stood a’top “Bee Rock” and known for yourself the indescribable grand sensation which the scene affords. --March of Progress
Daylight to Dark
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