and look der house
around."

*****

I did NOT make "some moneys," but I DID go to Europe. Three years after
this last interview with Rutli I was coming from Interlaken to Berne
by rail. I had not heard from him, and I had forgotten the name of his
village, but as I looked up from the paper I was reading, I suddenly
recognized him in the further end of the same compartment I occupied.
His recognition of me was evidently as sudden and unexpected. After our
first hand-grasp and greeting, I said:--

"And how about our new village?"

"Dere is no fillage."

"What! You have given up the idea?"

"Yes. There is no fillage, olt or new."

"I don't understand."

He looked at me a moment. "You have not heard?"

"No."

He gently picked up a little local guidebook that lay in my lap, and
turning its leaves, pointed to a page, and read as follows:--

"5 M. beyond, the train passes a curve R., where a fine view of the lake
may be seen. A little to the R. rises the steep slopes of the ----, the
scene of a terrible disaster. At three o'clock on March 5, 1850, the
little village of ----, lying midway of the slope, with its population
of 950 souls, was completely destroyed by a landslip from the top of
the mountain. So sudden was the catastrophe that not a single escape
is recorded. A large portion of the mountain crest, as will be observed
when it is seen in profile, descended to the valley, burying the
unfortunate village to a depth variously estimated at from 1000 ft.
to 1800 ft. The geological causes which produced this extraordinary
displacement have been fully discussed, but the greater evidence points
to the theory of subterranean glaciers. 5 M. beyond ---- the train
crosses the R. bridge."

I laid down the guide-book in breathless astonishment.

"And you never heard of this in all these years?"

"Nefer! I asked no questions, I read no pooks. I have no ledders from
home."

"And yet you"--I stopped, I could not call him a fool; neither could
I, in the face of his perfect composure and undisturbed eyes, exhibit
a concern greater than his own. An uneasy recollection of what he
confessed had been his mental condition immediately after his accident
came over me. Had he been the victim of a strange hallucination
regarding his house and family all these years? Were these dreams of
revenge, this fancy of creating a new village, only an outcome of
some shock arising out of the disaster itself, which he had long since
for