“THE LAND OF THE SKY;” OR, ADVENTURES IN MOUNTAIN BY-WAYS. Contents Page CHAPTER I. 3 CHAPTER II. 13 CHAPTER III. 21 CHAPTER IV. 27 CHAPTER V. 33 CHAPTER VI. 41 CHAPTER VII. 48 CHAPTER VIII. 54 CHAPTER IX. 62 CHAPTER X. 69 CHAPTER XI. 77 CHAPTER XII. 84 CHAPTER XIII. 91 CHAPTER XIV. 98 CHAPTER XV. 105 CHAPTER XVI. 111 CHAPTER XVII. 119 CHAPTER XVIII. 124 “THE LAND OF THE SKY;” OR, ADVENTURES IN MOUNTAIN BY-WAYS. BY CHRISTIAN REID, AUTHOR OF “A QUESTION OF HONOR,” “VALERIE AYLMER,” “MORTON HOUSE,” “NINA’S ATONEMENT,” ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. NEW YORK: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, BY D. APPLETON & CO., In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. TO THE KIND AND PLEASANT COMPANIONS OF A SUMMER IDLING THESE PAGES ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED “THE LAND OF THE SKY;” OR, ADVENTURES IN MOUNTAIN BY-WAYS. [Illustration: The Consultation.] CHAPTER I. “Mountains that like giants stand, To sentinel enchanted land.” “I want you all to remember,” says Eric, decidedly, “that I do not advise you to go.” “I don’t know how you can say that, Eric,” replies Aunt Markham, “when you have talked incessantly of the beauty of the mountains, and said that everybody ought to go to see them.” “He meant appreciative people,” says Sylvia. “_We_ are not appreciative; therefore his remarks do not apply to us.” “He wants to go alone with a gun and a microscope,” says Charley; “and has no fancy for playing cavalier-of-all-work to a trio of ladies.” “He need not fear any thing of that kind,” I remark, “for you are going, and Rupert also. We shall, therefore, be well provided with cavaliers.” Scene: a family party on a veranda at sunset. Aunt Markham lying back in a large chair, fanning as if her existence depends on keeping cool—as perhaps it does, poor woman! since she weighs at least fourteen stone; Sylvia reclining in a smaller chair, with her filmy dress falling around her to the floor, her pretty face flushed with heat, her gray eyes slightly languid; Eric on the steps with his back against a jasmine-twined pillar, and a cigar, which he does not light, between his fingers; Charley Kenyon stretched on the grass just below the steps; Rupert hovering to and fro; I established in the hall-door, for the sake of a through-draught—the month being July, and the thermometer standing at eighty-five.