is no vegetation at all in these high altitudes, only the sides of the mountains are covered with thickets and bushes, where flocks of sheep and goats were grazing, under the guardianship of wild-looking shepherd boys. The great silence is only interrupted by a far-off ringing of bells from an Alpine village belfry, far below us. As we got higher up, the road was deep in snow, which continued to fall heavily. We ascended further and further and finally emerged upon a plain with a mountain lake formed by the melting of the snows, and came to the top of the ascent, having reached the height of over 23,000 feet. Suddenly after a steep ascent, we saw before us a tall lonely mass of grey stones, built upon a rock. It was the “Hospice” a sort of hotel, which used to be a monastery. Two big dogs of the St. Bernard breed welcomed us with joyous barkings. We ordered a dish of macaroni and a flask of _chianti_, and started back to Goeshenen. The atmosphere was chilly and the harsh, bleak wind made me shiver. Our driver taking pity on me, put his rug around my shoulders, but, alas, it appeared that it had many holes. Our train left early in the morning, and we had to be up before six. We hastened to the railway station and took seats in the last car, in order to see the entrance of the great St. Gothard tunnel. The guide cried out “_Partenza!_” the train moved, and we went with a rush into the black unknown for more than twenty minutes. A wavering light glowed here and there at long intervals. When the train flashed out of the tunnel, we entered the Canton of Tessino. Our train slid down zigzags through narrow passes, from valley to valley. After Chiosso—the Italian frontier—the railway line ran through comparatively flat country. At about nine in the evening we arrived at Milan. CHAPTER XXIX MILAN