108 FIVE DAYS ON MOUNT MANSFIELD. 



throw a snow-ball in the middle of July 

 this was almost like being at the North Pole ; 

 it would be something to talk about after 

 getting home. 



One visitor I rejoiced to see, though a 

 stranger. I was on* the Nose in the after- 

 noon, enjoying once more the view of Lake 

 Champlain and the Adirondacks, when I 

 descried two men far off toward the Chin. 

 They had come up the mountain, not by the 

 carriage road, but by a trail on the opposite 

 side, and plainly were in no haste, though 

 the afternoon was wearing away. As I 

 watched their movements, a mile or two in 

 the distance, I said to myself, "Good ! they 

 are botanists." So it proved; or rather one 

 of them was a botanist, a college professor 

 on a pedestrian collecting-excursion. We 

 compared notes after supper and walked 

 together the next morning, enjoying that 

 peculiar good fellowship which nothing but 

 a kindred interest and au unexpected meet- 

 ing in a lonesome place can make possible. 

 Then he started down the carriage road with 

 the design of exploring Smugglers' Notch, 

 and I have never seen or heard from him 

 since. I hope he is still botanizing on the 



