502 Notes on Sport and Travel x 



to guide ' — after a hearty shake of the hand from 

 that gray old giant of a herdsman, and enjoy 

 yourself. 



' Joseph, what's i' the fardel ? Turn out your 

 traps and let us see what " provaunt " you have got' 

 A mighty mass of cold boiled mutton, an infinity of 

 little dabs of rye-bread, the size of one's hand and 

 as hard as flints ; and — what is that thou art ex- 

 tracting with such a grin on thy manly countenance, 

 as if thou hadst found the best joke in Europe tied 

 up in the corner of the bag? A quart bottle of 

 corn-brandy ! I simper, the gray herdsman simpers, 

 and Joseph simpers most of all, as if he was conscious 

 of having done a monstrous clever thing, but was 

 modest. * Schnapps at six in the morning, hardly 

 correct,' say I. Joseph thinks that it is apt to make 

 one thirsty (it certainly always appears to have that 

 effect upon him), and the gray herdsman shakes his 

 head and smacks his lips dubiously as if he were 

 not quite certain, but would rather like to try. ' Well, 

 just one thimbleful, Joseph, just to kill the larvce, ye 

 ken. Ah ! you don't understand ; it is a mountain 

 excuse, too. Never mind, hand us the becJier! 



Here we breakfasted luxuriously, eking out our 

 store with sour milk and crumbly new white cheese 

 from the sennJmtt. The gray herdsman eyes me in- 

 tently, and longs to know what manner of man I am. 

 I take pity on his thirst for knowledge. ' Ein 

 Englander ?' I am his friend for life ! He has 

 heard of the ;^3 0,000 sent over in the French war- 



