MIST ON THE MOUNTAIN. 323 



Chatting thus as we went along, we forgot the wet 

 and the rugged stony path. Everywhere something 

 of interest to the hunter was to be recounted: the 

 story of an adventure with a poacher, a spot pointed 

 out near which a certain good chamois had been shot, 

 or where, in other days, the red-deer might always 

 certainly be seen just as the sun was getting up over 

 the opposite peaks. 



From afar we now perceived the meadow on which 

 our hut lay. It was still a good distance off, but the 

 smoke was circling upwards over the brown roof, and 

 the grass looked green, and it was cheerful to see the 

 like after the wildness we had left. Moreover, as we 

 went along, I was thinking all the while of the warm 

 breakfast I would cook myself as soon as we arrived 

 there, and of the snug room where I could hang up 

 my clothes to dry. 



Were people to reflect about it, they would often be 

 surprised at the pleasure which, under certain circum- 

 stances, the commonest sights are able to afford them. 

 When therefore the traveller recounts, and dwells upon, 

 some trifling incident a mere sound perhaps he 

 should not on that account be set down as trivial. It 

 was not a trifle to him. You will perceive this when 

 you have been a whole day among the rocks, and at 

 last chance upon a spot whence you happen to see 

 smoke curling in the air. Your heart bounds at the 

 sight ; and though as yet you have not even a glimpse 

 of the hut whence it proceeds, in thought you are 

 already in the human habitation. From that moment 



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