eld-flower, if nothing more. So early do they begin to learn the trade
of a lifetime.

We entered Grindelwald late in the afternoon. The shadows of night,
which fall earlier in these valleys than elsewhere, were already
gathering. The few, scattered cottages, walled in by the everlasting
hills, with the snow-covered Wetterhorn in full view, and the glacier
behind it, wore a cheerless and gloomy air in the quick-coming twilight.
Train after train of tourists, upon horses and mules, or dragging weary
feet, descended from among the mountains, to find carriages here and
hasten away. Only these arrivals and departures gave a momentary life to
the spot. What must it be when the summer sun and the last visitor have
left it?

We, too, sought out our waiting carriage, and rolled away in the summer
twilight, down the beautiful road, wide and smooth enough to lead to
more dreadful places than the pleasant valley of Interlaken, where, for
a day at least, was our home.

The next afternoon, instead of spending the Sabbath here, we decided to
go on to Giessbach, on the Lake of Brienz, to visit the celebrated
falls. We had rested comfortably in the hope of a quiet day in the
little _chalet_, where more permanent arrangements had been made for our
disposal. But the enterprising member of the party, to whom we owed not
a little, in a happy moment of leisure, gave herself to the study of the
guide-book, the result of which was--Giessbach. We gathered our personal
effects together, under the pressure of great excitement and limited
time, reached the little steamer, fairly breathless, and then sat and
waited half an hour for it to move. It was not, however, a tedious time;
for there occurred an incident which engaged our attention.

"What do you suppose they're going to do with that calf?" asked the boy
of the party, who, like all boys, was of an inquiring turn of mind.
"They've got him into the water, and are poking him with sticks."

Upon this we all became immensely interested. A calf had fallen into the
water, between the pier and the steamer; but the fruitless efforts made
by everybody, interested or disinterested, were to rescue, not drown,
the creature, as a bystander would have inferred. Suddenly, as his own
struggles carried him away from the wharf and he was about to sink, a
white, delicate hand, bound with rings, and an arm daintily draped, were
thrust out from one of the cabin windows, seized upon the head
disappearing in a