could see anything of it, for the woods still shut us in, but the path
became very steep, and we knew that it was a straight climb; not up and
down and round about did this most uncompromising trail proceed, but
right up, in a direct line for the summit.

Now this side of Ampersand is steeper than any Gothic roof I have ever
seen, and withal very much encumbered with rocks and ledges and fallen
trees. There were places where we had to haul ourselves up by roots and
branches, and places where we had to go down on our hands and knees to
crawl under logs. It was breathless work, but not at all dangerous or
difficult. Every step forward was also a step upward; and as we stopped
to rest for a moment, we could see already glimpses of the lake below
us. But at these I did not much care to look, for I think it is a pity
to spoil the surprise of a grand view by taking little snatches of it
beforehand. It is better to keep one's face set to the mountain, and
then, coming out from the dark forest upon the very summit, feel the
splendour of the outlook flash upon one like a revelation.

The character of the woods through which we were now passing was
entirely different from those of the lower levels. On these steep places
the birch and maple will not grow, or at least they occur but sparsely.
The higher slopes and sharp ridges of the mountains are always covered
with soft-wood timber. Spruce and hemlock and balsam strike their
roots among the rocks, and find a hidden nourishment. They stand close
together; thickets of small trees spring up among the large ones; from
year to year the great trunks are falling one across another, and the
undergrowth is thickening around them, until a spruce forest seems to be
almost impassable. The constant rain of needles and the crumbling of
the fallen trees form a rich, brown mould, into which the foot sinks
noiselessly. Wonderful beds of moss, many feet in thickness, and softer