92 FIVE DAYS ON MOUNT MANSFIELD. 



o'clock that morning in an open wagon for 

 an excursion to the summit. Like myself, 

 they had driven into a cloud, and up to this 

 time had seen nothing more distant than the 

 stable just across the road, within a stone's 

 toss of the window, and even that only by 

 glimpses. One of the party was* a doctor, 

 who must be at home that night. Hour after 

 hour they watched the clouds, or rather the 

 rain (we were so beclouded that the clouds 

 could not be seen), and debated the situation. 

 Finally, at three o'clock, they got into their 

 open wagon, the rain pelting them fiercely, 

 and started for the base. Doubtless they 

 soon descended into clear weather, but not 

 till they were well drenched. Verily the 

 clouds are no respecters of persons. It is 

 nothing to them how far you have come, nor 

 how worthy your errand. So I reflected, 

 having nothing better to do, when my wag- 

 onful of pilgrims had dropped out of sight 

 in the fog as a pebble drops into the lake 

 leaving me with the house to myself ; and 

 presently, as I sat at the window, I heard 

 a white-throated sparrow singing outside. 

 Here was one, at least, whom the rain could 

 not discourage. A wild and yet a sweet and 



