234 NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SEALER 



which he nimbly mounted. At the top was a large unplastered 

 timber-roofed hall with windows opening on a fine fertile coun- 

 try. The potage a la printaniere, the capon roasted to perfec- 

 tion, the green peas and asparagus fresh and succulent, the 

 newly made butter, and bread that had been baked in an oven 

 that admitted of no sogginess, constituted a repast that proved 

 the captain to be a man not given to false promises. Excellent 

 claret added to the feast, and finally a bottle of champagne, 

 native to the region, exhilarated the spirits. This last was of so 

 fine a quality that later, thanks to Mr. Marcou, a liberal supply 

 was brought to America. Mr. Shaler got his share, and when it 

 came upon the table it always reminded him of that ideal day 

 and its breakfast, of Captain B.'s jolly company, and not the 

 least of the beautiful Franche-Comte". He loved to revive old 

 memories and a pleasant experience was not to be dismissed 

 with one telling, so that guests who drank the champagne often 

 listened to the twice-told tale. If old wine is good they were 

 convinced that, as Mr. Shaler told it, an old story is better. 



There was one walk to which he often reverted, and this was 

 through a part of the Rhone valley leading to Zermatt. The 

 moon was still in the heavens when the early morning start was 

 made. There were no impedimenta to drag the steps, only 

 alpenstocks and a knapsack holding the day's provisions. 

 Exhilarated by the pure air, for a while the body was indiffer- 

 ent to time and space and the feet carelessly trod the way to the 

 great and mystic Matterhorn. But the east gradually bright- 

 ened and the sun sent its hot rays down through the thick 

 branches across the road that till then had been dark and cool. 

 And at last, as the day progressed, the usual feud between 

 body and soul, which for a time had been suspended, set in, 

 and hunger and fatigue became the imperious facts in all 

 nature. Sitting by the roadside, beneath the shade of a great 

 tree, Mr. Shaler emptied the knapsack of its contents black 

 bread, tough cheese, and sour wine. " Oh," he exclaimed, in the 

 impatient accent that an empty stomach gives, " I would swap 



