SECRETARY'S REPORT. 827 



pudding, or polenta made of Indian corn or millet, with the 

 addition of whey and cheese. A little hay spread on a board is 

 their only bed. They are temperate and hard working. 



In moving the flock from one patch or district to another, the 

 shepherd usually goes ahead, and the sheep follow him over 

 crags and peaks, and when arrived at a halting place wait for his 

 signal, a sharp whistle on his pipe. Another lower drawn note 

 is the signal to march. Tiiey are under such discipline that the 

 labor of conducting and tending is fiir less than it otherwise 

 would be. The coarse wool of these sheep is used for making 

 uniforms for soldiers in the Austrian army and for blankets. 

 They are sheared twice a year. "When a sheep dies a natural 

 death they take out the bones and salt the flesh and then hang 

 it on stakes or on the walls of the hut, to dry in the open air. 

 It will not putrefy in the air on the high mountains, and is not 

 offensive to the smell. This dried meat brings a very high price 

 among the Italians. They make also a small cheese of the milk 

 of these sheep, which are driven into a pen, and when going 

 out are caught and stripped by two shepherds sitting at the 

 gate, getting but a very small quantity from each, not more 

 than ten or twelve ounces a day. A little goat's milk or cow's 

 milk is added to make up the quantity requisite for a two-pound 

 cheese, then a sweet whey cheese is made of the whey which 

 is left. 



We are now again on this great back-bone of Europe, on the 

 top of the St. Gothard. Most of the scenery on the way up 

 has been of unspeakable grandeur, with now and then a passing 

 cloud, gliding along sometimes above and sometimes below us. 

 We walked a part of the way up through the mountain pastures, 

 while our cicerone and his two-horse carriage wound around the 

 serpentine road. It is a bleak region, just below the verge of 

 perpetual snow and ice. At our feet lies the source of the 

 Rhine, a little ri))pling jet that we can almost catch in the palm 

 of the hand. We see just at the other end of the little pond 

 the source of the Ticino, that we had followed up from the Lago 

 Maggiore, and not far off again the Rlione begins its wild and 

 devious march to the far off warm waters of the Mediterranean. 

 Winter and spring are in constant struggle on these high Alps. 

 This pass has been stoutly contested in many a bloody battle, 

 which I have no time to allude to here. 



