BIRDS ON A SWISS GLACIER 



CHAPTER XX 



A VAI.I.EY OF Butterflies. The Nutcracker. The 



Buzzard. A Glimpse of Snow Buntings. The Alpine 



Accentor. Choughs. 



In the depth of winter, when the rain and 

 sleet drive ceaselessly all day against the window, 

 it is always pleasant to turn the thoughts to sunny 

 days in lands distant from this somewhat drab 

 England of ours. 



On the July morning that we have in our mind 

 the sun beats pitilessly on the little village in the 

 valley. The red roofs and the painted walls of 

 the houses are aglow. As a diligence, with its 

 tinkling bells, ascends the hill, the dUvSt of the 

 road rises in a hot white powder. One feels 

 little desire to leave the cool shade of the verandah 

 of the Kurhaus, set in green trees on the moun- 

 tain side. 



It is pleasant to sit here and note the wonderful 

 variety of colour in the picture, which rests before 

 the eye. The village itself is radiant in many 

 hues — red, green, and white predominating — 

 while the ruder chalets of rough logs supply the 

 more sombre tints, brown, amber, and many 

 shades of grey. But even here in the meanest 

 house, some bright colouring is added — a cluster 

 of purple hydrangeas or the scarlet gleam of a 

 mass of geraniums peering from some little window 

 box glow in the sunshine. 



As one looks down the valley the scene is one of 

 summer's prime. The peacock-blue lake 



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