height, and some were broken in half, as if they had been rent asunder
by gnome cannon, in gnome battles. There were gnome villages, too, which
looked exactly like human habitations, with clustering roofs plastered
against the mountain-side. But the hand of man had not placed one of
these stones upon another.

There were gigantic rock statues, and watch-towers for gnomes to warn
old-time gnome populations, perhaps, when their enemies, the
cave-dwellers, were coming that way from a mammoth-hunt; and there was a
wonderful grotto, fitted with doors and windows, a grotto whose
occupants must surely have inherited the mansion from their ancestors,
the cave-dwellers. Every step of the way History, gaunt and war-stained,
stalked beside us, followed hot-foot by his foster-mother, Legend; and
the first stories of the one and the last stories of the other were
tangled inextricably together.

Legend and history were alike in one regard; both told of brave men and
beautiful women; and the people we met as we drove, looked worthy of
their forebears who had fought and suffered for religion and
independence, in this strange, rock-walled corridor, shared with fairies
and gnomes. The men were tall, with great bold, good-natured eyes and
apple-red cheeks, to which their indigo blouses gave full value. The
women were of gentle mien, with soft glances; and the children were even
more attractive than their elders. Tiny girls, like walking dolls, with
dresses to the ground, bobbed us curtseys; and sturdy little boys,
curled up beside ancient grandfathers, in carts with old boots
protecting the brakes, saluted like miniature soldiers, or pulled off
their quaint round caps, as they stared in big-eyed wonder at our grand,
blue car. For them we were prince and princess, not chauffeur and maid.

Sometimes our road through the gorge climbed high above the rushing
green river, and ran along a narrow shelf overhanging the ravine, but
clear of snow and ice; sometimes it plunged down the mountain-side as if
on purpose to let us hear the music of the water; and one of these
sudden swoops downward brought us in sight of a chateau so enchanting
and so evidently enchanted, that I was sure a fairy's wand had waved for
its creation, perhaps only a moment before. When we were gone, it would
disappear again, and the fairy would flash down under the translucent
water, laughing, as she sent up a spray of emeralds and pearls.

"Of course, it isn't real!" I