the darkness was now becoming natural, seven or eight mattresses
appeared, ranged round the room, some holding one, some two men, most of
whom were sitting up on end with old caps on, displaying every variety
of squalor. The voice which had spoken last declared that the distance
was three-quarters of an hour, and that if the day were clear there
would be no difficulty in reaching the châlet; as it was, the man would
be very glad to try.

A change of cap was the only dressing necessary for the volunteer, and
we faced the fog and rain, which elicited from him such a disgraceful
amount of swearing, that it was on all accounts well when the rain
ceased for a few minutes, the mists rolled off, and the clouds lifted
sufficiently to betray the surface of the Lake of Geneva, luxuriating in
the clear warmth of an early summer's day, and making us shiver by the
painful contrast which our own altitude presented. The deep blue of the
lake brought to mind the story of the shepherd of Gessenay (Saanen), of
whom it is told that when he was passing the hills with some friends for
a first visit to Vevey, and came in sight of the lake, which he had
never seen before, he turned and hurried home incontinent, declaring
that he would not enter a country where the good God had made the blue
sky to fall and fill the valleys.

In this bright interval we came upon a magnificent fox, and the
peasant's impulse was, 'Oh, for a good gun!' an exclamation which would
have sounded horrible to English ears, if I had not been previously
broken in to it by an invitation from a Scotch gamekeeper to a fox-hunt,
when he promised an excellent gun, and a _stance_ which the foxes were
sure to pass.

The rain now came on again, and the guide thought he had had plenty of