A WALK TO FISCHBACHAU. 45 



to proceed, had sat down and been frozen to death. 

 " On such occasions," said my guide, " nothing is to 

 be done but to lie down and die." Long after having 

 passed the monument I could see, on looking back, 

 the white bones gleaming in the sun-light, for the ele- 

 ments had bleached them to a snowy whiteness. 



In going to Fischbachau, however, there was no 

 fear of my becoming the hero of a " lamentable occur- 

 rence" in the columns of a newspaper, or of having 

 an ex voto erected to my memory. I lost my way 

 however, as might very well have been expected ; but 

 I regained it after awhile, and came upon the road that 

 leads from Schlier See. The rain had now ceased, and 

 the sun looked out cheerily and with his very brightest 

 smile, as if determined to make amends for not having 

 shown himself earlier. Schlier See was before me, a 

 little island in the middle of its clear waters, and which, 

 from its glittering brightness, might, for aught I know, 

 have risen out of the lake just before I came. I looked 

 at it a long time, for its beauty and freshness reminded 

 me of England. 



The forester's house at Fischbachau had once been a 

 cloister; and the clergyman of the parish still inhabited 

 one half the building. The corridor was filled with 

 rows of antlers, and the sitting-room of the family 

 was decorated in the same appropriate manner. All 

 round the top were ranged the bent horns of the 

 chamois; below these the more majestic antlers of 

 the stag; and lower down, interspersed also at in- 

 tervals among the others, were those of the roebuck. 



