they are still the same that I met four years ago. Father Seraphin, who has now passed fourteen years in this post, is at present at Milan; and the other is expected to-day from Airolo. In this clear atmosphere the cold is awful. As soon as dinner is over, I will continue my letter; for I see clearly we shall not go far outside the door.
After dinner.
It is getting colder and colder. One does not like to stir from the stove. Indeed, it is most delightful to sit upon it, which in this country, where the stoves are made of stone tiles, it is very easy to do so. First of all, therefore, we will tell you of our departure from Realp, and then of our journey hither.
Yesterday evening, before we retired to our beds, the good father would show us his bedroom, where everything was in nice order, in a very small space. His bed, which consisted of a bag of straw, with a woolen coverlid, did not appear to us to be anything very meritorious, as we ourselves had often put up with no better. With great pleasure and internal satisfaction he showed us everything,—his bookcase and all other things. We praised all that we saw; and, parting on the best terms with each other, we retired for the night. In furnishing our room, in order that two beds might stand against one wall, both had been made unusually small. This inconvenience kept me long awake, until I thought of remedying it by placing four chairs together. It was quite broad daylight before we awoke this morning. When we went down, we found nothing but happy and friendly faces. Our guides, on the point of entering upon their return over yesterday's beautiful route, seemed to look upon it as an epoch, and as a history with which hereafter they would be able to entertain other strangers; and, as they were well paid, the idea of an adventure became complete in
