58 FLOWER-FIELDS OF ALPINE SWITZERLAND 



What matter the winds and the rains if they 

 bring us such expression ? By what is regret 

 justified in all this witchery ? Regret that the sun 

 no longer shines, inducing the Vernal Gentian to 

 open wide its bright blue eyes ? Nay ; here, in 

 Alp-land, if nowhere else, does an ultimate 

 philosophy speak possibly of what is actual ; here, 

 if nowhere else, bad weather is but a delightful 

 foil to bright and sunny days. Regret ! There 

 is no right room for such repining : no sound and 

 balanced reason to moan, as moans, for instance, 

 the Chinese poet : 



" If only to darken the darkness, O Thou in Thy 

 heavens above, 

 Why dost Thou light for a moment the lamp of 

 a beautiful thing ? " 



For in the Alps the lamp of Beauty burns without 

 cessation ; and where wondrous flowering pastures 

 border some rough-cut lake, legacy from glaciers 

 long since retired, the lamp burns always brightly. 

 By writing of inclemency in such full-flavoured 

 tones, I am not trying to make the best of a bad 

 case ; I am simply and honestly setting forth the 

 undoubted good there is in what may seem " im- 

 possible." Any one who has lived with these things 

 and has watched them springtime after springtime, 



