paying a visit, for instance, to the Faulhorn, which at that time
was considered a very difficult mountain to climb. When I reached
the hospice on the Grimsel by the Hasli Thal, I asked the host, a
fine, stately-looking man, about the ascent of the Siedelhorn. He
recommended me one of his servants as a guide, a rough, sinister-
looking man, who, instead of taking the usual zig-zag paths up
the mountain, led me up in a bee line, and I rather suspected he
intended to tire me out. At the top of the Siedelhorn I was
delighted to catch a glimpse, on one side, of the centre of the
Alps, whose giant backs alone were turned to us; and on the other
side, a sudden panorama of the Italian Alps, with Mont Blanc and
Monte Rosa. I had been careful to take a small bottle of
champagne with me, following the example of Prince Puckler when
he made the ascent of Snowdon; unfortunately, I could not think
of anybody whose health I could drink. We now descended vast
snow-fields, over which my guide slid with mad haste on his
alpenstock; I contented myself with leaning carefully on the iron
point of mine, and coming down at a moderate pace.

I arrived at Obergestelen dead tired, and stayed there two days,
to rest and await the arrival of Herwegh. Instead of coming
himself, however, a letter arrived from him which dragged me down
from my lofty communings with the Alps to the humdrum
consideration of the unpleasant situation in which my unhappy
friend found himself as a result of the incident I have already
described. He feared that I had allowed myself to be taken in by
his adversary, and had consequently formed an unfavourable
opinion of him. I told him to make his mind easy on that score,
and to meet me again, if possible, in Italian Switzerland. So I
set out for the ascent of the Gries glacier, and the climb across