22 JUNE IN FRANCONIA. 
at hand just above me. I hope my readers 
are none of them too old to sympathize with 
the boyish feeling. At all events, I quick- 
ened my pace. The distance could not be 
more than half a mile, I thought. But it 
was wonderful how that perverse trail among 
the boulders did unwind itself, as if it never 
would come to an end; and I was not sur- 
prised, on consulting a guide-book after- 
wards, to find that my half mile had really 
been a mile and a half. One’s sensations in 
such a case I have sometimes compared 
with those of an essay-writer when he is get- 
ting near the end of his task. He dallied 
with it in the beginning, and was half ready 
to throw it up in the middle; but now the 
fever is on him, and he cannot drive the pen 
fast enough. Two days ago he doubted 
whether or not to burn the thing; now it is 
certain to be his masterpiece, and he must 
sit up till morning, if need be, to finish 
it. What would life be worth without 
its occasional enthusiasm, laughable in the 
retrospect, perhaps, but in itself pleasurable 
almost to the point of painfulness ? 
It was a glorious day. I enjoyed the 
climb, the lessening forest, the alpine plants 
