162 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



the Zug Spitz is seen. It is a lonely spot, but the 

 snowy peaks impart grandeur to all within sight of 

 them, and in their sharp outline there is no monotony. 

 Nor does the desolateness of the high mountains im- 

 part melancholy, it is in keeping with the wildness; 

 the vastness of the forms around fills the mind, their 

 grandeur however does not overwhelm, but elevates 

 it, and leaves no room for anything like fear or sad- 

 ness. One feeling only you are unable to escape it 

 creeps upon and holds you like an inevitable fate, and 

 you cannot shake it off, a sense of the awful stillness 

 amidst which you are. 



As the forester was not at home, nothing could be 

 decided upon. I looked about me and chatted with 

 the under-gamekeepers, one of whom had just brought 

 home the good chamois I saw hanging on the paling at 

 my arrival ; among them too was a Solacher, brother 

 of my friend Max and of the girls at Baierisch Zell, so 

 with him I made special acquaintance. 



" You must have a good depth of snow here in 

 winter," I observed : " there is not much chance of 

 getting out except with snow-shoes, I suppose." 



" No, indeed," was the answer : "I have myself 

 seen the snow thus high," pointing to a finger-post 

 which was much taller than himself. "And you know 

 in the Hinter Riss, if any one dies in winter, the 

 peasants cannot even get out to bury the body." 



" What do they do then ?" 



" They lay the corpse up in the loft under the roof, 

 and it freezes as hard as a rock and remains quite 



