146
	   A Mountain Pic-Nic.
for the party.     The devious and fatiguing
ascent was not improved by the moistness of
the soil, for the rains had affected it every-
where, except on the open sunny elevations.  Up we
toiled, young Brown constant to Sally, Matty
availing herself of the arm of the kindly Knud-
sen, I sometimes holding the hand of little
Jessie, walking with Collard or promiscuously
with the others.     By half past twelve or later
we dined (after Brown and I had gone back
a quarter of a miles� distance for the baskets,
abandoned from fatigue, on my challenge.)
Collard made lemonade, and esconscing cursel-
ves on rocks, fallen trees or the ground, beside
a steep and stony mountain path, stretching up-
wards at an angle of forty-five degrees, we ate
and drank.      Anon onwards, across mountain-
tops commanding fine views, into woods and 
along bye-paths, to the Snow Hole.    A chasm
in the mountain of no great depth or extent, 
the green trees growing thickly above and around
it, at the bottom extremity, to which I descen-
ded, coolness and a little crumbling ice.   They
say that ordinarily there is plenty there, and
that it had been recently taken away.    Loafing
here awhile, then �away, away, to the mountain�s
brow!� as Joe Greatbatch used to sing.       (I won-