At one point of the road we were doubtful if we should leave the valley, and seeing a man under a hay-stack munching bread and cheese we consulted him. But his look was interested, and he was so positive that the diverging path not being ours, we should never reach Camaldoli unless we consented to his guidance, that we became equally positive the map should be our only guide. We cut short further parleying by saying that we could but return if we missed the way altogether. Of this there was no chance. A short distance further and we sighted Serravalle, towering high on a steep eminence that fronted all quarters. On one side it commanded the bend in the road that led onwards across the Apennines into Romagna; on the other it stood well above a dip in the hills, and overlooked the side-valley down which the Fosso of Camaldoli flowed to join the Archiano. The mountain streams throughout the Casentino are spoken of as _fossi_, though not generally so designated on the map--a peculiar use of the word which suggests affinity to the northern _fos_ rather than to the Latin _fossa_. In sight of Serravalle we sat for a while and feasted on our usual lunch of bread, eggs and wine. After that we followed the stream for a time, and then, parting company with it, we began the ascent up the steep winding slope. On a clear day such as this, the steeper the ascent the more striking the observation how the nearer mountains sink into insignificance before the higher ranges that rise on the skyline beyond. Under the dome of blue, with its few sailing clouds, the air was of absolute transparency, and every detail of the level we had left, every detail of the level to which we were attaining, stood out in shining clearness. Each special portion of the world above, below, around had its distinguishing feature, from the flock of sheep grazing by the stream below to the man carrying stakes up the opposite slope, and to the dark birds hanging over Serravalle. But the observing faculty soon wearied with watching for new impressions. With the brighter sunshine, the keener air and the more fragrant vegetation of the height, a dreamy consciousness took possession of the mind--a consciousness of being nearer heaven--heaven, a fictitious limitation of space indeed, but a limitation the thought of which brought one’s own concerns into an amended relation to those of the world generally. After all, it is by drawing imaginary circles that the mind attains to a conception of relative size. The greater the height, the wider the outlook; the stronger the consciousness of the world we possess not, the clearer the conception of that part of the world which we have made our own.