Hence their expectation of meeting each other
again at Thun.

The slightest possible shade of annoyance at
her parent's partiality for his new-found friend
overspread her face for an instant, and then she
glanced again at the landscape. Turning to
me, she asked, "What is that mountain which
stands before us—  that dark green pyramid,
clothed at its base with thick festoons of pine-
tree forest?"

"That's my mountain — my beloved Niesen.
Everybody loves the Niesen. 'All round the
Niesen' is a toast as popular here as 'All round
the Wrekin' is in Shropshire. Niesen is a favourite
name to confer on dogs and railway locomotives.
Long live the noble Niesen! I stood on
his top the other day."

"Indeed! Is it possible?" Maria exclaimed,
regarding me, in her innocence, as an Alpine hero.

"It is not only possible, but so easy, that you
can make the ascent if you choose."

"Really! I should enjoy above all things
to be able to say I had ascended a mountain."

After some discussion, the gentleman agreed
that the ascent should be made.    " By the way,"
he continued, " my name is William Greenwood,
of the firm of Greenwood, Darkins, and Blake,
Manchester."

"And mine, sir, is Henry Carter, son of the
late John Edmund Carter, formerly of Manchester,
latterly of Liverpool."

"Really! I remember your father failed in
my debt, giving a dividend of eight and sixpence
in the pound."

"Yes, sir, he did; and five years afterwards
paid you in full, with interest."

"True; like an honourable man as he was.
To think of meeting poor Carter's son in this
way, by chance! He left you, I believe, not so
very badly off?"

"I am rich, by living within my income."

"And you are strolling about here, I suppose,
like the rest of us, without any definite purpose?"

"I am trying to put a little method into my
trip by comparing, for my own private satisfaction,
the respective merits of several well-known
eminences which are reached on foot with no
great exertion. I scramble from one hill-top to
another, and note which pleases me best."

"The volume under your arm is doubtless
your guide-book. There are so many, that it is
difficult to choose between them."

"It is nothing so common-place as that, but
a resource for a rainy day or a leisure hour. It
is the Mysteries of the Hand, by Desbarrolles,
in which the science of Chiromancy is fully and
seriously expounded."

"A revival of an old delusion. But if people
will pry into futurity, one form of the folly is as
good as another. You will tell as about it by-
and-by; it is time now that we think of
dinner."

At dinner, I had the great satisfaction of
securing the seat next to her. Opposite to us
was Mr. Percy Howard, looking anything but
pleased at the favour I enjoyed. Maria (that I
now knew to be her delightful name) did not
like him more than I did, and received his
advances with undisguised coldness. I fancied
I observed that the waiter behind us was
strange in his manner towards him, as if
Mr. Howard paid too particular attention to the
polish of the forks and spoons within his reach.
To the discussion of our Niesen project Mr.
Howard listened with open ears. It was agreed
that I should go forward to Wimmis, the village
at the base of the mountain, to secure horses
up it, and bedrooms in the little hotel at its
top, and that they would drive there early the
following morning to commence the ascent
immediately.

Next day, I bade a brief good-bye to the father
and daughter, and reached Wimmis, where every
arrangement was speedily made. During the
inn-gossip of the afternoon, singular inquiries
were put to me respecting the strangers then
at Thun. I answered them as well as I could,
but what in truth was uppermost in my
mind was the expected arrival of my fair one
tomorrow.

The morrow came, and with it my new
friends; but they were not alone. Mr. Howard
had fastened himself upon them, and with him a
gentlemanly young fellow enough — rather too
finespun — an acquaintance of his, whom I had
noticed at the table d'hôte. As soon as they
alighted, we set off, myself alone on foot, the
rest of the party on horseback.

The ascent of the Niesen was glorious. Maria
(by whose side I walked, telling her guide to
proceed in advance) was in ecstasies at the
harmony of sights and sounds, at the tinkling of
bells from cows and goats, with the stream of
the Simme rushing below. Every turn of the
zig-zag path presented us with a fresh point of
view. As we mounted higher, all was repose; soft
colours — melting hues of green and brown — met
our delighted eyes. The air was pure and
balmy; our minds, elevated by the scenery,
entirely forgot the lower world, the roar of city
carriages, and the busy hum of men.

We met sledges laden with mountain cheese,
gliding down gently over the grass; we passed
men carrying on their shoulders loads of
wine and other provisions for consumption at
the summit. We scaled, one after the other,
the three separate masses which together constitute
the Niesen. Near the top, I crept down a
rock, and was suddenly lost to my companion's
view. Maria uttered a pretty little scream,
highly flattering to my self-importance. Soon
returning, I had the pleasure of presenting her
with a handful of snow.

At last we reached the highest pinnacle. I
make no attempt to describe the panorama it
commands. It made us regardless of everything
else, I believe, except each other's presence.
We drank in with our eyes the snowy peaks, the
outspread lakes, the meandering streams. And