ut
over a long and beautiful valley. From the piazza of the Waumbeck, on a
clear day, no less than thirty-five mountain peaks can be easily
counted, the Green Mountains over in Vermont being visible as a distant
line of blue, and not in the total.

Of course the most conspicuous and most admired peak is Mount
Washington. One who has not visited the region might suppose that he
would soon become sated with the sight of the same mountains day after
day. This is a great error. All the mountains, and especially Mount
Washington, are ever presenting new aspects. All changes of atmosphere
produce corresponding variations. The shadows of passing clouds, the
effects at sunrise or at sunset, the moonlight, the partly cloudy
weather when the top of the mountain is hidden, the mists, and the rain,
all offer such totally different coloring and picturesque effects that
the artistic eye is never tired.

Dora was an artist in every fibre of her being, as one would know who
listened to her talking to Mr. Randolph half an hour after his arrival,
as they sat together on the piazza. In his delight to be with her and to
hear her, he would have forgotten the very existence of Mr. Thauret were
it not that he sat near them in the rotunda at the end of the piazza,
and so shared the entertainment that she offered.

"What a pity," she was saying, "that you did not come up yesterday. You
have missed the grandest sights that mortal ever beheld. I suppose on
your trip up you saw nothing beautiful in the rain-storm that we had
this afternoon?"

"Nothing whatever," said Mr. Randolph. "However it may have been here
among the mountains, the rain did not make the valleys more attractive.
Indeed I thought it simply a beastly day."

"What a mistake that you were not here instead of in the horrid cars.
Why, I tell you that I haven't words with which to describe the
magnificent pictures that I have enjoyed. Yet I am about to try. You
must not lose it all, you know. May I tell you about it?"

"Assuredly; I shall be delighted."

"Well, then, to begin; look out over the valley. What do you see?"

"The moonlight shedding a beautiful ray over the lake."

"Exactly," said Dora, laughing heartily. "That is just the funny mistake
I thought you would make. That is not a lake at all. It is mist, or
clouds rather. In the morning if I had not told you, you would have been
astonished to find that your lake is all trees and meadows. To begin,
then; about four o