myself, "Here is a man free from the conventionalities of society. If I
become acquainted with anybody it will be with him."

I found Johnson was an American from a Western city named Chicago,
which I had heard of, and we "palled on." He was very fond of music,
and the band in the Kurpark was a good one, so we went there together
twice a day, and talked as we walked up and down the gravel paths. He
had been everywhere, and knew his way about; his conversation was
interesting. In about a week I had come to love Johnson, and I think he
rather liked me.

One day, as we returned together to the Hotel Post, he held out his
hand.

"I'm off to-morrow," he said; "off to Innsbruck. So I shall bid you
good-bye. I am very glad indeed to have met you."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." I replied. "But I won't say good-bye now,
I'll see you to the station to-morrow."

"No, don't do that. I shall be away before you are up. We'll say good-
bye here."

We did, and when I had breakfast next morning I found Johnson had left
by the early train. I wandered around the park that forenoon mourning
for Johnson. The place seemed lonely without him. In the afternoon I
explored some of the by-paths of the park within hearing distance of
the band, when suddenly, to my intense surprise, I met my departed
friend.

"Hello! Johnson," I cried, "I thought you left this morning."

The man looked at me with no recognition in his face.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "my name is Baumgarten."

Looking more closely at him I at once saw I was mistaken. I had been
thinking of Johnson at the time, which probably accounted for the
error. Still, his likeness to Johnson was remarkable--to Johnson well
groomed. He had neatly-trimmed side-whiskers and moustache, while
Johnson had a full beard. His round hat was new, and he wore an
irreproachable collar, and even cuffs. Besides this he sported a cane,
and evidently possessed many weaknesses to which Johnson was superior.
I apologized for my mistake, and was about to walk on when Baumgarten
showed signs of wishing to become acquainted.

"I have just arrived," he said, "and know nothing of the place. Have
you been here long?"

"About two weeks," I answered.

"Ah! then, you are a resident as it were. Are there any good ascents to
be made around here?"

"I have not been informed that there are. I am not a climber myself,
except by funicular railway. I am always content to take other people's
figures for