not, and in return for the
information said that I would find the Grimsel a little ticklish; "but,"
he added, smiling, "the ladies succeeded in crossing, and you will
scarcely hesitate." I thought I might get over a difficulty that his
fair companions had conquered. He then told me Sir Herbert Taylor was
made adjutant-general, and wished me good morning.

I sat reflecting on the character, hopes, pursuits, and interests of
man, for an hour, concluding that the stranger was a soldier, who let
some of the ordinary workings of his thoughts overflow in this brief and
casual interview. To resume my solitary journey, cross the Rhone, and
toil my way up the rugged side of the Grimsel, consumed two more hours,
and glad was I to come in view of the little chill-looking sheet of
water on its summit, which is called the Lake of the Dead. The path was
filled with snow, at a most critical point, where, indeed, a misplaced
footstep might betray the incautious to their destruction. A large party
on the other side appeared fully aware of the difficulty, for it had
halted, and was in earnest discussion with the guide, touching the
practicability of passing. It was decided to attempt the enterprise.
First came a female of one of the sweetest, serenest countenances I had
ever seen. She, too, was English; and though she trembled, and blushed,
and laughed at herself, she came on with spirit, and would have reached
my side in safety, had not an unlucky stone turned beneath a foot that
was much too pretty for those wild hills. I sprang forward, and was
so happy as to save her from destruction. She felt the extent of the
obligation, and expressed her thanks modestly but with fervor. In a
minute we were joined by her husband, who grasped my hand with warm
feeling, or rather with the emotion one ought to feel who had witnessed
the risk he had just run of losing an angel. The lady seemed satisfied
at leaving us together.

"You are an Englishman?" said the stranger.

"An American."

"An American! This is singular--will you pardon a question?--You have
more than saved my life--you have probably saved my reason--will you
pardon a question?--Can money serve you?"

I smiled, and told him, odd as it might appear to him, that though an
American, I was a gentleman. He appeared embarrassed, and his fine face
worked, until I began to pity him, for it was evident he wished to show
me in some way, how much he felt he was my debtor, and yet he did not