When I Call Up For Myself This Great March I See It All Mapped Out In Landscapes, Each Of Which I Caught From Some Mountain, And Each Of Which Joins On To That Before And To That After It, Till I Can Piece Together The Whole Road.

The view here from the Hill of Archettes, the view from the Ballon d'Alsace, from Glovelier Hill, from the

Weissenstein, from the Brienzer Grat, from the Grimsel, from above Bellinzona, from the Princi-pessa, from Tizzano, from the ridge of the Apennines, from the Wall of Siena, from San Quirico, from Radicofani, from San Lorenzo, from Monte-fiascone, from above Viterbo, from Roncigleone, and at last from that lift in the Via Cassia, whence one suddenly perceives the City. They unroll themselves all in their order till I can see Europe, and Rome shining at the end.

But you who go in railways are necessarily shut up in long valleys and even sometimes by the walls of the earth. Even those who bicycle or drive see these sights but rarely and with no consecution, since roads also avoid climbing save where they are forced to it, as over certain passes. It is only by following the straight line onwards that any one can pass from ridge to ridge and have this full picture of the way he has been.

So much for views. I clambered down the hill to Archettes and saw, almost the first house, a swinging board 'At the sign of the Trout of the Vosges', and as it was now evening I turned in there to dine.

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