underwood was, for the most part, taller than ourselves, and covered with a heavy dew, which, at every step, fell on us like a shower of rain. In the centre of the forest we came upon an open spot, close to which was a small rude hut, but, on examination, we found that it had been long deserted. We were much astonished, however, to observe nuinerous plants of potatoes growing wild near this desolate spot. More than once we felt sure we should not get beyond the forest glooms until the morrow, but the very thought of spending a night in such a miserable wild, without servants, bedding, food, or even the means of striking a light, urged us to renew our search for the lost path; and, at length, after toiling and climbing up the face of grim-looking rocks, holding on by brambles and bushes, we fortunately came once more upon the regular track. The villagers at Jearnleag (bribed, I feel confident, by our servants), informed us that we would have to cross over a dangerous torrent of melted snow before we reached the encamping ground; and that, as the bridge had lately been washed away, it would be necessary for us to remain some time at Jearnleag until timbers could be prepared for forming a bridge. We, however, paid no attention to their remarks, and, on arriving at this wonderful torrent, we found it fordable in many places; so, pulling off our shoes and stockings, in we went, and finally gained the other side, finding the water most intensely cold. A little beyond this stream is the encamping grounda flat spot in a hollow of the mountains. This place is known by the name of Letee, and is situated within about a couple of miles off the Bouren Ghaut, or Borenda Pass. Its appearance is wretched in the extreme, desolate, barren, and cold, surrounded by craggy peaks, crowned with perpetual snow. The scenery is, indeed, the boldest that can be imagined. Close to where we pitched our tent may be seen the ruins of a small bungalow, erected, I understand, by Lady Bentinck, for the accommodation of European travellers; nothing now remains but the bare walls, and every chip of wood has been torn out for firing. Towards evening, the clouds collected, and began to roll up the valley on to the pass; but we flattered our

selves that there would be no raiu, for we had observed that the clouds generally collected towards sunset over the crest of the higher hills, and cleared off again when the sun rose next morning, but we were sadly disappointed. To the left of our camp was a magnificent waterfall, and we decided on walking to it before dinnertime. We started off in the midst of light clouds, and after ascending the mountain to a considerable height, in order to get a finer view of the cataract, we found ourselves closely enveloped in a dense mist; but still we continued to push forward, expecting every moment to get beyond its influence. We were soon, however, compelled to descend, but not before we had become thoroughly drenched with rain. The fall, though close at hand, was now altogether hidden from our view; and we determined, as it was becoming rather late, to return to the tent as speedily as possible. Our resolution, indeed, was much strengthened, as the clouds began to clear off, and, to our astonishment, we beheld two immense yellow, bears within a musket-shot of where we were standing!

At first sight, I was taken so much by surprise, that for some moments I stood motionless, gazing at our formidable neighbours, and they also stood staring stedfastly at us. At length one of the brutes, more daring than his companion, came rolling down the mountain side towards our position at an astonishing velocity. We were in no way prepared for an attack, being armed only with light walking-sticks. Discretion,” said my friend, “is the better part of valour."

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"In this case," replied I, "there is no doubt of it." So at once off we went at full speed, running literally for our lives. I confess I did not feel at all comfortable at the thoughts of being embraced by such shaggy customers. Never before did I display such agility, bounding from rock to rock, tripping over stones, and getting up almost before I was down, springing across the mountain torrents, and taking leaps that, under ordinary circumstances, I could not have cleared at all. In the retreat, I was obliged once to halt for the purpose of fastening my shoe-tie, and S- -n got ahead of me. Then, indeed, did I feel thoroughly hor

rified at the idea of encountering the two bears alone; but such reflections nerved me to redoubled exertions. By dint of long slides and good running, I joined him again, and we both entered the tent together, thoroughly drenched, almost breathless, and very well frightened. What became of our hill-side acquaintances, the bears, I cannot say, for we never once looked back to see when they gave over the pursuit.

We found everything in a shocking state of disorder on our return, and not a servant within sight: they had all been driven by the rain to seek shelter under the adjacent ruins and rocks, where we found them shivering like aspen leaves. After changing our clothes, we ordered dinner, which consisted of three stewed pigeons (shot during the march), and an extra allowance of beer -namely, one pint-bottle each. Humble as was our fare, we enjoyed it exceedingly; and now that we were beyond the bears' clutches, our adventure Lecame the subject of merry conversation: we resolved, however, never to go beyond our tent again without loaded rifles. Our situation at Letee was the very essence of discomfort, and we saw no chance of being able to cross the ghaut so long as the clouds hung so darkly over its crest.

The sort of tent in which we were confined is called a "Paul," and, when pitched, is supported by two poles, one at either end, and a third, which is termed the ridge-pole, fastens on their extremes. Over this the canvass is stretched, slanting outwards to the ground, and then made fast all round with pegs driven into the earth. Both ends are alike, with the exception that one is altogether closed, and the other made to open like a curtain. Within it, in this instance, there was only room for our bedding to be spread on the floor, with a little camp-table, about two feet by three, between the two sleeping-places, the legs of this table partly resting on the beds. The rain fell so heavily, that it beat through the cloth in several places, but we had no remedy, so were compelled to bear all our troubles with patience.

Wednesday, 19th.-The night of the 21st December, at Ferozeshur, was little worse than to-day. At daybreak we left the gloomy Letee, barely able to distinguish any object in the dense

mist by which we were surrounded. We could not even indulge in our usual cup of coffee before starting, as there was no firewood with which to boil the water. The coolies did all in their power to dissuade us from crossing the ghaut until the clouds would clear off, but we preferred trying it at any risk to remaining another hour at Letee. The coolies then became sulky, and all but refused to take up their loads; the servants were equally discontented, saying that nothing but certain death, in one of its most horrible forms, was before them. A good deal of unnecessary delay was caused by these discussions, during which S- -n and myself, with two of the servants to carry our rifles, moved off towards the ghaut, seeing which, the coolies took up their loads, and the whole followed at a slow pace, growling and grumbling as much as possible. Not far from the spot on which we had encamped, we obliged to ford a number of wide streams running into the Pubur; and the latter river we forded also, near the point whence it take its rise from the snow. The appearance of the rain here was most remarkable, rushing through an arch of perpetual snow, of a semicircular shape, and most gracefully formed. By this time we were completely drenched, from wading through the river and walking in the snow. As we ascended, however, the clouds grew still darker, and it began to rain heavily, thus making our plight, if possible, somewhat more miserable.

were

We

The coolies became quite disheartened, threw down their loads, and refused to move a step further; but we heeded them not, and continued our ascent, which, from the ruggedness of the path, was slow and tiring. were followed by some of the servants, looking the very picture of woe, their heads so bound up in cloths, that the nose and eyes were the only visible parts of the whole body, for we had provided them with black blankets before leaving Simla, and in these they had entirely rolled themselves up. I am convinced that, in an emergency of any kind, there is not a more helpless animal than a native of the plains of Hindostan. He gives himself up at once, without even making an attempt to better his condition, though it might be in his power to do so.

Travelling with such attendants is most annoying, and the fewer a person can manage with, so much the better for his comfort. Large masses of granite, hurled down from the peaks above, lay heaped in confusion on our track, and completely obliterated the usual path in many places; and to discover it again, we were obliged to separate, each taking a contrary direction, and moving zigzag up the hill. The fog was so great, that, to prevent our altogether losing one another, we kept up a constant bellowing until the track was discovered again. At length, with only two followers, we reached the crest of the pass. But all we had gone through, in arriving at that point, appeared mere child's-play when we contemplated what was still before us.

The pass itself is not more than from fifteen to twenty feet wide, and stands 15,095 feet above the level of the ocean, with peaks on both sides of it 18,000 feet high. On looking over the north side of the ghaut, we could at first see nothing before us but snow; and, about half-way down, a light, white cloud hung over the face of the mountain, and altogether hid from our view any danger we might have to encounter in attempting to descend. Never did I experience more pain from cold than on this occasion; wet, fatigued, hungry, and exposed to a fierce, cutting blast.

We stood in this position for about fifteen minutes, anxiously looking out for the coolies to come up and point out to us some way of getting down, but not a man of them was within hail; and we determined, rather than stand in such misery, to run every risk, and at any rate make the attempt. We made use of our walking-sticks in forming rests for our feet, and, in this way, got down about twenty feet, to where a large square rock projected through the hard mass of snow, but beyond this we dared not venture, and, therefore, we climbed back again, to await the arrival of the paharies (mountain-men.) After sitting a considerable period under the shelter of the rocks, deliberating on what was best to be done if the descent over the snow proved impracticable, we decided on going back to Letee, and afterwards winding round to Mussourie, and from thence return to Simla through the mountains. Just at this moment, our

attention was arrested by the sound of voices, and, on looking round, we were well pleased to see all our servants and coolies in the mouth of the ghaut. Here they halted, and asked for a present of money that they might erect two piles of stones to commemorate our passage over the snow. We were glad to do anything that might tend to put the fellows into a good humour; so I handed them a rupee, promising, at the same time, that they should have more on our arrival at the first village. They were not long in raising a couple of cairns, and then we called out for a guide. It was apparently a common practice to erect these piles of stones on the occasion of any one crossing the ghaut, and on both sides of the pass we observed several; they were of a conical form, and stood a little higher than a man. Having by this time induced one of our followers to show us the way, we followed him until he came to the mass of rotten rock which we ourselves had previously attained alone, and then, looking down the shining steep, he, with a very grave face, pronounced it impossible to proceed further; but his countenance soon betrayed him, and, seeing his own danger when it was too late to retract (for one touch from us would have hurled him into eternity), he commenced cutting footsteps in the snow with his small axe. We promised him a piece of money if he did his work well, and this had a wonderful influence on him; and he was in such a hurry that he made the intervals between each step so wide, that it became very hazardous work to stretch and push one's foot over the slippery surface. Cold as I felt while standing on the crest of the pass, I was soon in a disagreeable glow of heat-a circumstance to be explained only by the exciting sensation such a frightful descent produced. When we had got beyond the part considered dangerous, the guide pointed out the direction in which we were to proceed, and returned for his usual load, which he had thrown down at the top of the pass. After we had got to the foot of the snow, we found ourselves on a level field of ice, which extended for a considerable distance, and in many parts lay with open jaws, ready to receive any unfortunate soul who might happen to make but one false step. Numbers of the hill

In the olden time, when fairies sometimes sojourned with us, there was one who was loved by a rich and powerful child of earth. She was beautiful, and he said that he would love her always with a love unchangeable as were all things in fairy-land; so she trusted him, and gave to him her own true heart, and bound her beautiful life to his.

But as the years went on, while her love was yet fresh and deep, he wearied of her; and then, weeping bitterly, she said, "I will go away. He will never love me any more. I will go back to fairy-land." For in fairy-land there was no sorrow, and she thought that she should there forget her earthly love. But the gay songs and merry dances brought no joy back to her heart; the ceaseless sunshine of the never-ending summer day seemned but to mock her sorrow with its brightness; and, solitary amidst all her gay companions, she sat, still weeping for her own lost love, and wearying so to close her eyes for ever, and to die. But death cannot enter into fairy-land, and the deserted one wept on, sorrowful and hopeless, for she had no power again to return to earth.

"You have grieved long enough," the fairy-queen said, angrily. "Cease your tears now, and join us in our merriment again."

Then the desolate one knelt down, and murmured, passionately,

"I cannot cease from weeping, for my heart has in it only love and tears! Oh, let me go again! The snow is on the earth; let me go and live beside my love as a snow-flower!"

RICHARDSON.

ground, their dark, mourning figures passing darkly against the canopy of snow; and amongst them there was only one still clad in the white, glittering robes of fairy-land.

And she returned not with them; but, when they reached a great and stately house, sank down before it, and the snow closed round, and hid her in its shroud for evermore. Then, with a low, wailing sound of sorrow, like the sighing of a far-off wind, the solemn train swept back. *

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The sun rose on the earth-a winter sun, cold and bright-and it shone abroad, sparkling on the white veil beneath which all nature lay and slept; but where the sorrowing child of fairyland had made her grave, there had sprung up a little bed of delicate dark leaves, and from the midst of them a solitary snow-white flower arose, with its pale head bowed down, as if in deepest sadness.

"Ah, it is lovely! Gather it for me my sweet snow-drop!" a beautiful woman said to one who stood beside her.

He stooped to gather it, but, as he touched the flower, a low voice of unutterable sorrow whispered, weeping, through the leaves, "Oh, love me now! Give not all thy love to her, for I have come back from fairy-land to live thus again with thee!"

And ever since that day, when every other flower has died, the solitary snowdrop rises from its cold, white bed, and men rejoice to see it blossoming in the sunless winter days alone; but while they love it for its pure and simple beauty, they know not that the first snow-drop that ever bloomed had its root far in the depths of a broken heart.

G. M. C.