in, much against the grain. I was deeply impressed by the first
signs of cultivation that we saw in our descent from the desolate
wilds. The first scanty meadow-land accessible to cattle was
called the Bettel-Matt, and the first person we met was a marmot
hunter. The wild scenery was soon enlivened by the marvellous
swirl and headlong rush of a mountain river called the Tosa,
which at one spot breaks into a superb waterfall with three
distinct branches. After the moss and reeds had, in the course of
our continuous descent, given place to grass and meadows, and the
shrubs had been replaced by pine trees, we at last arrived at the
goal of our day's journey, the village of Pommath, called
Formazza by the Italian population, which is situated in a
charming valley. Here, for the first time in my life, I had to
eat roast marmot. After having paid my guide, and sent him on his
homeward journey, I started alone on the following morning on my
further descent of the valley, although I had only partially
recovered from my fatigue, owing to lack of sleep. It was not
until the November of this year, when the whole of Switzerland
was thrown into a state of consternation by the news that the
Grimsel inn had been set fire to by the host himself, who hoped
by this means to obtain the renewal of the lease from the
authorities, that I learned my life had been in danger under the
guidance of this man. As soon as his crime was discovered, the
host drowned himself in the little lake, on the borders of which
the inn is situated. The serving-man, however, whom he had bribed
to arrange the fire, was caught and punished. I knew by the name
that he was the same man that the worthy innkeeper had given me
as companion on my solitary journey across the glacier pass, and
I heard at the same time that two travellers from Frankfort had
perished on the same pass a short time before my own journey. I