"Was I smiling? It was at those droll little beggars. They bowed and
courtesied in an unconcerned, wooden way, as if they were moved by some
ingenious piece of Swiss clock-work. The stiff old curee, too, had an
air of having been wound up and set a-going. I could almost hear the
creak of his mainspring. I was smiling at that, perhaps, and thinking
how strongly the scenery of some portions of our own country resembles
this part of Switzerland."

"Do you think so? I had not remarked it."

"This is not the least like anything in the Adirondack region, for
example," observed Miss Ruth.

"It may be a mere fancy of mine," returned Lynde. "However, we have
similar geological formations in the mountainous sections of New
England; the same uncompromising Gothic sort of pines; the same wintry
bleakness that leaves its impress even on the midsummer. A body of water
tumbling through a gorge in New Hampshire must be much like a body of
water tumbling through a gorge anywhere else."

"Undoubtedly all mountain scenery has many features in common," Mrs.
Denham said; "but if I were dropped down on the White Hills, softly from
a balloon, let us say, I should know in a second I was not in
Switzerland."

"I should like to put you to the test in one spot I am familiar with,"
said Lynde.

"I should not like to be put to the test just at present," rejoined Mrs.
Denham. "I am very simple in my tastes, and I prefer the Alps."