the stranger somewhat nervous work.

We did not succeed in carrying out our programme in its entirety, for the
reason that human performance lags ever behind human intention. It is
easy to say and believe at three o'clock in the afternoon that: "We will
rise at five, breakfast lightly at half-past, and start away at six."

"Then we shall be well on our way before the heat of the day sets in,"
remarks one.

"This time of the year, the early morning is really the best part of the
day. Don't you think so?" adds another.

"Oh, undoubtedly."

"So cool and fresh."

"And the half-lights are so exquisite."

The first morning one maintains one's vows. The party assembles at half-
past five. It is very silent; individually, somewhat snappy; inclined to
grumble with its food, also with most other things; the atmosphere
charged with compressed irritability seeking its vent. In the evening
the Tempter's voice is heard:

"I think if we got off by half-past six, sharp, that would be time
enough?"

The voice of Virtue protests, faintly: "It will be breaking our
resolution."

The Tempter replies: "Resolutions were made for man, not man for
resolutions." The devil can paraphrase Scripture for his own purpose.
"Besides, it is disturbing the whole hotel; think of the poor servants."

The voice of Virtue continues, but even feebler: "But everybody gets up
early in these parts."

"They would not if they were not obliged to, poor things! Say breakfast
at half-past six, punctual; that will be disturbing nobody."

Thus Sin masquerades under the guise of Good, and one sleeps till six,
explaining to one's conscience, who, however, doesn't believe it, that
one does this because of unselfish consideration for others. I have
known such consideration extend until seven of the clock.

Likewise, distance measured with a pair of compasses is not precisely the
same as when measured by the leg.

"Ten miles an hour for seven hours, seventy miles. A nice easy day's
work."

"There are some stiff hills to climb?"

"The other side to come down. Say, eight miles an hour, and call it
sixty miles. Gott in Himmel! if we can't average eight miles an hour, we
had better go in bath-chairs." It does seem somewhat impossible to do
less, on paper.

But at four o'clock in the afternoon the voice of Duty rings less trumpet-
toned:

"Well, I suppose we ought to be getting on."

"Oh, there's no hurry! don't fuss. Lovely view from her