hilly.

While eating my first luncheon in Austria, at the village of Altheim,
the village pedagogue informs me in good English that I am the first
Briton he has ever had the pleasure of conversing with. He learned the
language entirely from books, without a tutor, he says, learning it for
pleasure solely, never expecting to utilize the accomplishment in any
practical way. One hill after another characterizes my route to-day; the
weather, which has hitherto remained reasonably mild, is turning hot and
sultry, and, arriving at Hoag about five o'clock, I feel that I have
done sufficient hillclimbing for one day. I have been wheeling through
Austrian territory since 10.30 this morning, and, with observant eyes
the whole distance, I have yet to see the first native, male or female,
possessing in the least degree either a graceful figure or a prepossessing
face. There has been a great horse-fair at Hoag to-day; the business of
the day is concluded, and the principal occupation of the men, apart
from drinking beer and smoking, appears to be frightening the women out
of their wits by leading prancing horses as near them as possible.

My road, on leaving Hoag, is hilly, and the snowy heights of the Nordliche
Kalkalpen (North Chalk Mountains), a range of the Austrian Alps, loom
up ahead at an uncertain distance. To-day is what Americans call a
"scorcher," and climbing hills among pine-woods, that shut out every
passing breeze, is anything but exhilarating exercise with the thermometer
hovering in the vicinity of one hundred degrees. The peasants are abroad
in their fields as usual, but a goodly proportion are reclining beneath
the trees. Reclining is, I think, a favorite pastime with the Austrian.
The teamster, who happens to be wide awake and sees me approaching, knows
instinctively that his team is going to scare at the bicycle, yet he
makes no precautionary movements whatever, neither does he arouse himself