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syringa, emerald, bronze, golden, and silver mosses, and everywhere running-water, in trickling rivulets, musical mountain rills, or murmuring, foamy cascades. Two miles of it,—and then we crossed the plank bridge over the “highway,” and were at the Sutherland Falls Huts.

With what thankfulness we regarded them, for oh! we were weary! Rest at last, and change into dry clothes, and the welcome warmth of a big log fire, hot water to bathe our cold and aching limbs in,—all these we anticipated joyfully.

And with what a crash our chateau d’espagne fell to the ground!