142 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



was with no small difficulty I prevented myself from 

 falling forwards ; had I done so, the shinbone must ine- 

 vitably have snapped. There is no end to the mishaps 

 one is exposed to in the mountains, even under favour- 

 able circumstances ; hence the care the hunter always 

 takes to reach the valley while it is light; for where 

 the path is narrow, or the descent precipitous, it would 

 sometimes be an awkward thing to be overtaken by the 

 night. 



Long before we reached the village it was quite dark. 

 The several foresters were at the inn that evening, and 

 there was laughter, music, and merriment ; gay as it was, 

 yet to me, somehow or other, the evening before in the 

 Senn Hutte seemed much more pleasant and cheerful, 

 — the thing was, yesterday I had not missed a chamois. 



Kobell, in one of his poems, has well represented this 

 state of mind. He has taken a little incident of every- 

 day life, and made of it a complete picture. It is a 

 Teniers scene, if you will ; but it is a genuine touch of 

 Nature nevertheless. 



Station. 



Father 's so cross and grumpy, 



He keeps on scold, scold, scold ; 

 Just now he beat poor Trouncer, 



That is so good and old : 

 There's nothing right, no nothing; 



All in the house is wrong. 

 That Dobbin 's lame since Monday, 



Sure that won't vex him long ; 

 The after-math 's all in now, 



So he may well be spared. 

 What can then be the matter ? 



To ask, if I but dared ! 



