t he has been ill
advised; but it is largely his own fault, too. I think he did well to
leave England for the winter, but he ought to have gone home when the
warm weather came. His medical advisers have always prescribed change
of scene: told him to go anywhere he liked, and 'buck up' a bit, and he
has gone. France, Spain, Egypt, Italy, and now Zermatt. And the old
chap is dying of loneliness. Gottlieb shakes his mournful old head,
and goes out to arrange with the English chaplain where to bury him.
I'd bury them both! If you take my advice you'll pet him and make him
think the world is a nice place to live in, and then we'll take him
home, and let old Gottlieb find another tenant for his grave. If you
will second me we'll have him out of this hole in a week's time."

I felt so cheered, and I will certainly follow his lead. I wrote a
long, explanatory letter to the Cynic, an apologetic one to Rose, and a
picture postcard, promising a longer communication, to Mother Hubbard,
and then turned in and slept like a top.

CHAPTER XXII

THE HEATHER PULLS

The sensation of dazzling light and the sound of tinkling silvery bells
woke me early, and I jumped up and looked out of the window. The bells
belonged to a herd of goats which were being driven slowly to pasture.
Stalwart guides, with stout alpenstocks in their hands, and apparently
heavy cloth bags upon their backs, were standing near the hotel and on
the station platform. Tourists of both sexes were getting ready to
accompany the guides, and there was much loud questioning and emphatic
gesticulation on both sides. A few mules stood near, presumably for
the use of the ladies. It was all too provocative, and I flung myself
into my clothes and went out.

If I were writing a guide book I could wax eloquent, I believe, in my
descriptions of Zermatt; but I am not, and I therefore refrain.

The squire was delighted with my enthusiasm, and insisted upon my
"doing" the place thoroughly. He did not rise until noon, so that my
mornings were always free, and the Greys took me all the shorter
excursions. One day we had quite a long trip to the top of the Gorner
Grat, whence one gets an unrivalled view of snow peaks and glaciers;
and from thence we walked to the Schwarz See, where the Matterhorn
towers in front of you like an absolute monarch in loneliness and
grandeur.

Oh, those ravines, where the glacier-fed streams rage furiously in
their rapid descent!