I’ve watch’d the carriage travellers pass so gaily on their
    way,
  I’ve heard the capercailzie’s note at early dawning grey;
  But now, alas! my doom is sealed, I have not long to wait,
  For when the axe has laid me low the fire will be my fate. 
  Farewell to sun, farewell to storm, to birds and travellers all,
  —­Oh sad to think that one so great should have so great a
    fall!

As some of the party had gone on earlier, we found the table spread when we reached the Inn de la Poste; and after a warm at the kitchen fire proceeded to discuss the repast, of which the following is the menu:—­

MENU.

* * * * *

SOUP.

Tea._

FISH.

Cold Minnows.

ROASTS.

Remains of Cold Chicken.  Remains of Pate de Foie Gras.

COLD.

Household Bread—­very sour.

MADE DISH.

Butter.

SWEETS.

Sponge Biscuits.

DESSERT.

Apples and Oranges.

WINES AND LIQUEURS.

Vin Ordinaire, Water with very little Whisky, Kirschwasser.

We were unable to procure any addition to our meal from the innkeeper, except sour bread and sugar.  Our tea had to be drank without milk, as the cow had gone for a stroll up the mountain and was out of reach of the post-office.  Having suggested to our host that a telegram might be of use, he disappeared grinning, and in about ten minutes the servant entered with a bottle containing the precious liquid.  The shout of joy that rose to the rafters rather startled the quiet female, but it was spontaneous, not to be suppressed, and told of a happy finish to our not over sumptuous tea.

The drive from thence home was decidedly chilly, but nothing exciting happened, though occasional glimpses of the snow peaks were enjoyed, and many fine specimens of the genus bovus, dragging carts laden with trees (or all that remained of them), were passed by the way.

The entire excursion occupied six hours and a half.

A few days afterwards our sociable circle at the hotel was much reduced, and among others the Clipper family departed.  We missed Mr. Clipper greatly, for though bearing strong evidence to Darwin’s theory about the face, he was a chatty companion and capital “raconteur,” while his facility for remembering names, even of places visited in his youngest days, was really remarkable.

Nor could we easily spare the four sylph-like Misses Clipper, for with them vanished all hopes of delicious music in the evening.  Ah, that was music!  The way they played together the “Taking of Tel-el-Kebir” took us by storm.  The silent march through the dead of night, the charge, the cheers, the uncertain rifle fire, and then the thunder of the cannon was so effective, that the landlord rose in haste from his dinner, and anxiously inquired if the pier-glass had fallen through the piano; reassured, he went back to his meal, but whether the “taking of the redoubt,” or the “pursuit of the fugitives,” or even the capital imitation of the bagpipes—­which followed in due course—­interfered with his digestion (it might have been a regard for his piano), we never learnt, but his face showed unmistakable signs of annoyance for the rest of the evening.