For over twenty years I lived among the moun tains. Their rugged summits saluted me every morning. Mountains are usually employed in literature as emblems of immutability. My own experience is quite otherwise. To me they were positively kaleidoscopic. I never saw a moun tain look just the same two days running; whilst the fantastic changes that overtook them as I viewed them from different points of the com pass were a perennial source of wonder and admiration. It was always worth while seeing the peak from the other side, even if that Side were windswept, bleak, and bare. We might prefer the shelter of our own side; but, when we returned, the view of the mountain from the dining-room Window was always more satisfying because of our ability to supplement the scene from our newly acquired knowledge of the land beyond the ranges.