Gbe Circumvention of (Breslock. 65 



language, not the mud — into a torrent of pious ex- 

 pletives, as we picked our cautious way down a 

 breakneck road, crooked, gullied, rocky, slippery, 

 edged by a threatening guard-rail and a plunging 

 brook. When we emerged, undamaged and undis- 

 mayed, into the level streets of Adams and quaffed 

 our mild tipple at the soda-fountain, we heard of 

 two riders who had come to grief and fractures on 

 that shocking thoroughfare, and felt with great sat- 

 isfaction that we had really performed a feat. 



But there were no more adventures, no thrills and 

 no spills in the rest of our humdrum push on to 

 Cheshire. There were one or two glimpses of Grey- 

 lock above the nearer hills, and some sweet, whole- 

 some stretches of woods. But the air was lifeless, 

 and our clothing was drenched, and we were a little 

 impatient of the stern prose of our wheeling. The 

 machines were no longer wings, but weights, and 

 we could not spin, but only plod. So when we were 

 up with the station at Cheshire we felt that we could 

 honourably abandon a heavy road and hurry on to 

 Pittsfield. We had accomplished our purpose. We 

 had circumvented Greylock. We bade the old fellow 

 a loving farewell as we dropped him behind, which 

 was in our thoughts a half-promise to return, — an 

 au revoir to his excellency. 



