cluded all possibility of leaning one's body far enough out to see between it and the cliff. Turning round once again, I saw the Tartar on a convenient shelf below, giving me a pantomimic performance, suggestive of the velocity acquired by falling bodies, and of the squashy conditions induced by the sudden impact of the human frame on hard rock or ice. As it appeared just possible to throw the sack down to the Tartar's ledge, I determined to risk that course. So, slipping my arms out of the bondage of detestable straps and deaf to the urgent entreaties, I might almost say tears, from above, I entrusted the precious sack to the tender mercies of the law of gravitation. The sack reached the ledge with great facility. It strove to check its further fall, stretching its straps over the rock like long sinuous hands, but to my horror I saw its efforts were fruitless, and amidst a lamentable howl from Zurfluh our tent, bedding, and soups disappeared over the cliff. My appreciation of the discomforts involved by its loss was temporarily overbalanced by the delightful ease of movement so attained. The Tartar, wholly indifferent to tents, bedding, or other western luxuries, smiled approval, and I gathered from various remarks and gestures that he had ceased from contemplating the lurid horrors of that nether world allotted to the infidel, and was pleased that one more chance was to be granted me of embracing the teaching of the true
