X Chamois- Htinting 5 1 7 



and ' put out ' to prevent her playing the part of one 

 of Samson's foxes with our beds, filling the cabin 

 with unspeakable smells of singed hair. And now 

 she would persist in walking up our backs, and tick- 

 ling us to madness with her scorched tail. 



Having disposed of ' Catchins,' as she was im- 

 mediately named, as well as we could, by tossing 

 her by the tail to the top of the hay whenever she 

 descended to thank us, which happened about three 

 times in every two minutes, we ' fixed ' our suppers, 

 broiling the schnee-huJuier over the bright fire, and 

 enjoyed ourselves mightily. After a smoke and a 

 short cross-examination from Joseph as to our 

 friends, family, and expectations, and particular 

 inquiries for the shortest overland route to England, 

 and the number of years required for the journey, we 

 climbed up into the hay, and grubbed and wormed 

 our way for two or three feet below its surface, and, 

 making unto ourselves each a ' spiracle ' or blow-hole 

 over our respective noses, tried to slumber. 



Now a bed of short, sweet Alpine grass, fragrant 

 with the spirits of a thousand departed flowers, is as 

 warm, cosy, and elastic as a bed can be ; but it has 

 one unfortunate drawback, — the small straws and 

 dust falling down the before -mentioned spiracle 

 tickle and titillate one's unfortunate face and nose 

 in a most distracting manner ; and as you utterly 

 destroy the snug economy of your couch, and let in 

 a rush of cold mountain air as often as you raise 

 your hand to brush away the annoyance, some 



