s of the party from each other if they separate themselves a
little. Our fine day takes on a decidedly doubtful aspect: nevertheless,
after the first cry, "Here's some!" nobody thinks of impending
discomforts. Here and there in the grass the soft white petals have
opened, but where the _grat_ sinks straight down for hundreds of feet it
grows more abundantly, on the edge, and, alas! chiefly over the edge;
and here a steady head and common prudence come in play. Furnished with
those requisites, we can collect a bunch of edelweiss, and go on our way
rejoicing even though the rain-drops begin to fall, the wind grows
wilder, and presently hail comes in cutting dashes anything but
agreeable to one's features. We go back along the ridge and descend to
the broad-roofed chalet that lies invitingly below. It goes by the name
of the Stierenberger Wirthschaft, and is known to all the cow-herds
round; but we want no doubtful wine, only fresh milk and thick cream in
a wooden bowl, and a brown fluid called coffee. Bread we brought with
us, not caring to exercise our teeth on last month's bake. In any case,
nothing more solid than bread and cheese is to be found here, tavern
though it is. A fire blazes in the first room, which has no window, and
might properly be styled the antechamber of the cow-house, into which
there is a fine view through an open door. Sixty tails are peacefully
whisking to and fro, for in the middle of the day the cattle are housed
to protect them from flies. All the implements of cheese-making--the
immense copper kettle, the presses, pails, etc.--are kept in the
antechamber. After trying to dry ourselves at the hearth, and
discovering that much hail comes down the great square chimney and very
little smoke goes up, we are shown into the "best room," the furniture
of which consists of a bed, a pine table and benches. In the adjoining
apartment are two beds, the gayly-painted chest in which our hostess
brought home her bridal outfit, and another table; while in both rooms
the knives and forks are stuck in the chinks of the beams over the
benches--a convenient arrangement by which one has only to stretch up an
arm and take down from the ceiling whatever implement is needed. In most
of these chalets a tall man might be embarrassed what to do with his
head: it is only necessary to go into their houses to perceive that the
Swiss mountaineers are short of stature. When the hail and rain have
ceased we start downward over