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The Woman on the Rock
An Impression Received in Zion National Park
By Mrs. Grace Wharton Montaigne

The aesthetic pleasure of a place of beauty is enriched when, added to the beauty by which it is endowed by Nature, is that other beauty of a life lesson taught in its setting.

I am indebted to the Woman on the Rock for this added touch.

* * *

I motored into Zion National Park one sunny Summer afternoon, on one of the many excursions I have taken to that entrancing spot, and knowing the time of day to get a certain light effect in a photo I sought, promptly at that hour I was busily engaged in setting up my camera and composing the picture.

In approaching the spot selected, I had merely noticed in a hasty glance from the rear that a person was sitting on a rock near to where I must set up my instrument. The symphony of form, the harmony of colors, the blend of twig and branch with leaf and grassy sward, pierced by the nearby jutting rocks of foreground, and the middle distance of the canyon's wall, flanked on the west by the rear view of Angel's Landing, led the eye naturally to that mountain of majesty which the distance empurpled, so fittingly designated "The Great White Throne." Masses of fleecy clouds were drifting over the expanse of delicate azure which canopied the whole, adding to the charm of its attractiveness. Two massive tree trunks framed the view, with leaves dropping from above-this was the scene I sought to record on the photographic plate.

Ever as I worked an impression stole into my consciousness to glance more deliberately at the only other person present.

The first glance disclosed a woman sitting on a rock, with an ooze calf, moire silk-lined volume (evidently of Nature verse) in her hand, betokening culture and refinement; her status in the world had been worn long enough to have become an unconscious part of her bearing. And yet, as if what I had observed were imperfectly done, and my monitor were dissatisfied with my endeavor, the message returned, "Look again, and look well, for you are about to-."

I looked again most deliberately, fixedly, almost rudely, and saw.

Before me was the Woman on the Rock, who was then and there in that position about to impart to me her message, her life lesson learned. For at her side I saw a pair of crutches-her left limb was amputated at the hip! But oh, the wondrous calm, the abiding peace, the beautiful serenity that encompassed that woman! Her affliction had dropped away, so perfect was her at-one-ment with her surroundings. She was fully immersed in the currents of the infinite then flowing through her being, and made whole. The poise of person, the contentment with her lot, the resignation in perfect, abiding, trustful faith in what was to follow, was beautiful to see. The perfect completeness of the Woman on the Rock, despite her affliction, showed that she had risen above it; that it was no more than a rent in a garment about to be cast off. All this sank in as I absorbed the message of the Woman on the Rock.