SIDE LIGHTS ON BIRDS 



shimmers through the dark green pines : the sunny- 

 meadows are smooth and green : many coloured 

 butterflies flit amidst the tangle of tall growing 

 weeds and flowers just beyond the verandah. 



On the blossoms crowning one isolated stem, 

 we mark a dozen silver-washed fritillaries, and 

 ever and anon, a stately swallow-tail, flying high 

 like a bird, droops to this tiny island of bloom. 

 On every hand the shrill note of cicadas comes from 

 the hot grass. But, if the eye be turned upward. 

 Nature at once takes on another aspect, and the 

 very season of the year seems to change at a glance. 

 Here the rocks towering sheer for a thousand 

 feet or more, are dark and threatening, and the 

 pines, clinging to their stern sides, have a weather- 

 beaten look. Beyond the jagged lines the higher 

 mountains rise, and, at last, ranged against the 

 sky, are the peaks of snow, set in an unchanging 

 winter. 



It is to one of these higher and less frequented 

 Alps that we propose to take our way. It is by 

 no means a fashionable summit, and bears no 

 well-known name. It is so remote that the 

 chamois, which has disappeared from so many of 

 its old haunts in Switzerland, still finds refuge 

 in its crags, a circumstance which adds no little 

 to its attraction. To make the long ascent with 

 comfort, or even with safety, the weather must 

 be taken into account. 



Fog is a dire enemy to the climber. Thunder 

 storms gather and break on the heights with an 

 intensity unknown on the lower ground. Then, 

 too, it is well to travel in the evening or in the 

 early hours of the morning, before the sun makes 

 the snow rotten and wearisome to tread. 



So we may loaf in the shade of the pine trees, 

 or smoke the pipe of peace on the verandah, until 

 the day is well advanced. 



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