to do him honor. He was not good to look
at, for his clothing was crumpled and soiled, the veins stood out on
his neck, his hair was tousled, his face was red and streaming with
sweat; yet, for all that, we cheered him and meant it, too. He
acknowledged our applause in an honest, simple way, and then
disappeared in the crowd. He was not posing as a heroic figure, but
was just an honest mountain-climber who accepted the challenge of the
mountain and won. In our cheering we did just what the world does:
we gave the laurel wreath to the man who wins in a test of courage.

I think "Excelsior" is pretty good stuff in the way of depicting
mountain-climbing, and I always want to cheer that young chap as he
fights his way toward the top. He could have stopped down there in
the valley, where everything was snug and comfortable, but he chose
to climb so as to have a look around. I thought of him one day at
Scheidegg. There we were, nearly a mile and a half above sea-level,
shivering in the midst of ice and snow in mid-July, but we had a look
around that made us glad in spite of the cold. As Virgil says: "It
will be pleasing to remember these things hereafter." I have often
noticed that the old soldiers seem to recall the hardest marches, the
most severe battles, and the greatest privations more vividly than
their every-day experiences.

So the mountain-climbing that I have been doing with my boys and
girls stands out like a cameo in my retrospective view. Sometimes we
looked back toward the valley, and it seemed so peaceful and
beautiful that it caused the mountain before us to seem ominous. At
such times, when courage seemed to be oozing, we needed to reinforce
one another with words of cheer. The steep places seemed perilously
rough at times, and I could hear a stifled sob somewhere in my little
company. At such times I would urge myself along at a more rapid
pace, that I might reach a higher level and call out to them in
heartening tones to hurry on up to our resting-place. We would often
sing a bit in the midst of our resting, and when the sob had been
changed to a laugh I felt that life was well worth while.

As we toiled upward I was ever on the lookout for a patch of sunlight
in the midst of the shadows that it might lure them on. And it never
failed. Like magic that sun-spot always quickened their pace, and
they often hailed it with a shout. They would even race toward that
sunny place, their wearines