"What can you want with those three fern rods?" asked John
of his fellow-traveller.
"Oh, they will make capital brooms," said he; "and I like
them because I have strange whims sometimes." Then they walked on
together for a long distance.
"How dark the sky is becoming," said John; "and look at
those thick, heavy clouds."
"Those are not clouds," replied his fellow-traveller;
"they are mountains—large lofty mountains—on the tops of which we
should be above the clouds, in the pure, free air. Believe me, it
is delightful to ascend so high, tomorrow we shall be there." But
the mountains were not so near as they appeared; they had to travel
a whole day before they reached them, and pass through black
forests and piles of rock as large as a town. The journey had been
so fatiguing tha