OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 461 



From top to bottom this cliff was polished, rounded, 

 and scooped. There was no room for doubt. The river 

 which now runs so deeply down had once been above. 

 It has been the delver of its own channel through the 

 barrier of the Kirchet. 



I went on to Eosenlaui, proposing to climb the 

 neighbouring mountains in succession. In fact, I went 

 to Switzerland in 1866 with a particular hunger for the 

 heights. But the weather thickened before Rosenlaui 

 was reached, and on the night following the morning of 

 my departure from Engsteln I lay upon my plaid under 

 an impervious pine, and watched as wild a thunderstorm 

 and as heavy a downpour of rain as I had ever seen. 

 Most extraordinary was the flicker on cliffs and trees, 

 and most tremendous was the detonation succeeding 

 each discharge. The fine weather came thus to an 

 end, and next day I gave up the Wetterhorn for the 

 ignoble Faulhorn. Here the wind changed, the air 

 became piercingly cold, and on the following morning 

 heavy snow-drifts buttressed the doors, windows, and 

 walls of the inn. We broke a way, sinking at some 

 places to the hips in snow. A thousand feet made all 

 the difference; a descent of this amount carrying us 

 from the bleakest winter into genial summer. My com- 

 panion held on to the beaten track, while I sought a 

 rougher and more direct one to the Scheinigeplatte. 

 We were solitary visitors there, and I filled the evening 

 with the " Story of Elizabeth," which some benevolent 

 traveller had left at the hotel. 



Thence we dropped down to Lauterbrunnen, went 

 up the valley to the little inn at Trechslawinen, and 

 crossed the Petersgrat the following day. The recent 

 precipitation had cleared the heavens and reloaded the 

 heights. It was perhaps the splendour of the weather 

 and purity of the snows, aided by the subjective effect 



