as the head comes above the line, it is Point Surprise indeed for a new comer, for he is on the edge of an unexpected precipice which defines the long length of the Pulpit Rock shoulder. Below is a sheer drop, broken as it descends by irregular, spruce-covered ledges. Here one looks off into misty distance towards the east, across a softly undulating landscape, over shimmering lakes and receding hills, blurred against the horizon line,—bathed at this hour of the late afternoon in dreamy ethereal blue. Here and there appears a white and slender spire; roofs of outlying farmhouses and scattered villages break through the thick greens; ribbon-like roads wind across the valleys. Tender, peaceful, serene.
The climber drinks in all the familiar beauty with avid delight; with the sun at his back the colors have marvellous values. He pats the worn rock with affection—even though this spot is far too popular ever to detain him long. He looks to right and left Shall he go down to the right towards the
