climbing in the Alps together, where the appeal had been to the physical and the emotional, and both delighted in the contrast here where the mental, the ethical and the æsthetic overrode the purely physical. Monadnock can never be called strenuous. That is why one has time to think. . .
The two had taken with keen pleasure all the loved trails and outlooks. They had followed the Upper trail to the Great Pasture, along the west side the Monte Rosa, down through the woods, coming back by way of the Cart path and the Twisted Birch. They had dropped down under the Matterhorn and had looked up at craggy Point Surprise towering above them. They had gone far out on the Dublin Ridge past the Sarcophagus, following the waving path as it meanders up and down the peaks on that long, stern shoulder, to where the path drops down into the woods, leading to the little village by its green lake. They had gone over the Jaffrey shoulder and taken the old White Spot trail down far below,
