Over the Rocky Mountains to Alaska By Charles Warren Stoddard There was no sleep during the closing night-not one solitary wink; all laws were dead-letters-alas that they should so soon arise again from the dead!-and when the wreath of stars that crowns the golden statue of Our Lady on the high dome, two hundred feet in air, and the wide-sweeping crescent under her shining feet, burst suddenly into flame, and shed a lustre that was welcomed for miles and miles over the plains of Indiana-then, I assure you, we were all so deeply touched that we knew not whether to laugh or to weep, and I shall not tell you which we did. The moon was very full that night, and I didn't blame it!
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