324 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



there is an end of your loneliness, that handful of 

 blue vapour has filled up the distance which separated 

 you from your kind. 



And when the mists suddenly clear away, and show 

 you a patch of green, and hard and determined out- 

 lines it matters not of what how beautiful you think 

 them! and your gladdened eye flies to the place to 

 alight upon it, after having been for hours unable to 

 find one little spot of earth whereon to rest. 



When we reached the hut, the first thing as usual 

 was to look to the rifles ; and then taking off the heavy 

 shoes, soaked with rain like all the rest of my things, 

 I went into the kitchen to see after the bread and milk, 

 or " milk soup*/' as the peasants here call it. I found 

 the neatherd with a large mass of delicious butter in 

 his hands, just made. In a few minutes I had a 

 blazing fire crackling on the hearth, and while a pan 

 full of creamy milk was boiling, the brown loaf was 

 sliced into the pan in readiness. It was ten o'clock, 

 and I had been out since three ; so that, when at last 

 the frothing milk was poured over the bread, and I 

 had carried it into the room, and sat there comfortably 

 drying in the warmth, I enjoyed to the full the luxury 

 of that plentiful repast. The herdsman too brought a 



* There ought to be a lump of butter put into the hot milk to 

 make the genuine " milk soup," and the cow-herd wanted very much 

 to fling in a piece. He was surprised I could think of eating it 

 without a pinch of salt being added, " for," said he, "if you don't 

 put any, the milk will be quite sweet." He looked rather astonished 

 when I told him that was just what I liked, and by his manner I 

 saw he thought my taste a barbarous one, though he did not say so. 



