We left the glacier, and ascending again to the hospice of Montanvert,
I sat down by the side of Franz upon a block of granite, and looked
again upon a scene the equal of which I never expect to see again.
There was a far away look in Franz's eyes. Was he thinking of the
little cottage far up the mountain, and of Annette watching by the
bedside of his sick father? Perhaps so; in any case I was glad that we
had taken him. His could not be an everyday story, there must be some
particular motive why he should want so earnestly to come. I would not
question him then; but I determined to stop at the little cottage and
learn for myself.

With all the untold glory above and beneath me, I felt oppressed with
the littleness, as well as the greatness of my nature. How
insignificant I appeared amid these gigantic forms; and still I
exulted in the consciousness that "My Father made them all, that
Father with whom I could commune, and whose Son I was privileged to
love."

"And this God is our God," I was constrained to say aloud. Franz
turned his speaking eye upon me.

"If it was not for this, how could we endure it?" he said, while there
was a grave, calm look on his face, so little to be expected in a
guide.

"How could we endure this grandeur, or our own littleness?" I asked.

"To know that God rules, giving each his place, to the mountains
theirs, and to us ours. Insignificant we may be, and still we are each