ou can get an invitation) and observe
the contrast. This dear fellow, with the finest cut face I ever saw, a
face in perfect drawing, leaves some laborious life and comes up here
I don't know how many feet above the level of the sea, for no other
purpose on earth (except enjoying himself, I hope, in a capital
refectory) than to keep an hotel for idle poor devils like you and
me, and leave the bill to our consciences! Why, isn't it a beautiful
sacrifice? What do we want more to touch us? Because rescued people of
interesting appearance are not, for eight or nine months out of every
twelve, holding on here round the necks of the most sagacious of dogs
carrying wooden bottles, shall we disparage the place? No! Bless the
place. It's a great place, a glorious place!'

The chest of the grey-haired gentleman who was the Chief of the
important party, had swelled as if with a protest against his being
numbered among poor devils. No sooner had the artist traveller ceased
speaking than he himself spoke with great dignity, as having it
incumbent on him to take the lead in most places, and having deserted
that duty for a little while.

He weightily communicated his opinion to their host, that his life must
be a very dreary life here in the winter.

The host allowed to Monsieur that it was a little monotonous. The air
was difficult to breathe for a length of time consecutively. The cold
was very severe. One needed youth and strength to bear it. However,
having them and the blessing of Heaven--

Yes, that was very good. 'But the confinement,' said the grey-haired
gentleman.

There were many days, even in bad weather, when it was possible to
walk about outside. It was the custom to beat a little track, and take
exercise there.

'But the space,' urged the grey-haired gentleman. 'So small.
So--ha--very limited.'

Monsieur would recall to himself that there were the refuges to visit,
and that tracks had to be made to them also.

Monsieur still urged, on the other hand, that the space was
so--ha--hum--so very contracted. More than that, it was always the same,
always the same.

With a deprecating smile, the host gently raised and gently lowered his
shoulders. That was true, he remarked, but permit him to say that almost
all objects had their various points of view. Monsieur and he did not
see this poor life of his from the same point of view. Monsieur was not
used to confinement.

'I--ha--yes, very true,' said the grey-haired