AND DUDGEON SMILED 183 



many others. Slie had made a walking tour of 

 the Park, one hundred and sixty miles, and this 

 little climb was a mere side trip to her, while to me 

 it was the mountain climb of my life. 



Slowly and painfully the Banker and I climbed 

 the rest of the hill. Slowly and painfully we 

 got into our surrey, and invited the grey lady to 

 share a seat to her destination across the river. 

 We gathered up her rope, whose charitable sinews 

 had saved, at least, one unworthy life, and parted 

 with her, just this side of the Cation Hotel, at her 

 tent home. Had it not been for that lady in grey 

 these pages would not have been written. I 

 should still be sitting, ^'never flitting," like Poe's 

 Raven, at the bottom of that rocky slide, croaking 

 "nevermore," or else clinging, an ancient and ill- 

 smelling gastropod, to those rocky walls. Where- 

 ever she is, may heaven go with her. 



Meanwhile Dudgeon had danced and jigged his 

 way up those slopes, whistling "My Bonnie," and, 

 when we finally seated ourselves in the surrey, he 

 was as unbreathed as though he had just finished 

 a two-step. 



