" The Frolic and the Gentle " 



ent celebrants : a period when I had 

 him to myself, and when he began 

 an episode eventful in even his own 

 full life. This was nothing less than 

 that of his initial visit to the Old 

 World. By chance, with a son in his 

 first year out from Yale, I left New 

 York, in the spring of 1882, on the 

 same steamer which numbered on 

 its passenger-roll Clarence King, and 

 another mining-expert, at that time 

 his partner. Of course I had read 

 with admiration, a decade earlier, 

 the Mountaineering in the Sierra 

 Nevada, and often had wondered 

 why its luminous author had not 

 shone continuously in our literature. 

 I should have wondered the more that 

 I had never met him, had I not seen 

 his name figuring in those society 

 lists that were quite alien to my quiet 

 round of life. But at dinner we were 

 at the same table. He was good 

 enough to make the advance, and to 



