could not impede its progress, until having half-exhausted itself in spray, it reached a solid bed of stone, and finally disappeared among the dark-green fir-trees of the narrow valley below. While Hamilton looked in silent admiration down the precipice, A. Z., her husband, and the two guides disappeared in the cavity of the rock behind the waterfall, and seemed greatly to enjoy his surprise when he discovered them sitting under the trees at the other side. While one of the guides unpacked his canvas bag, and laid the contents on the nearest rock, Hamilton joined them, and they remained beside the waterfall more than an hour, enjoying their frugal repast while resting in the shade, and tranquillised almost to laziness by the sound of the rushing waters. Baron Z— was, of course, the first to move. “Ah, there is a _châlet_!” exclaimed Hamilton, pointing towards some small wooden buildings on a green hill before them; below which a second waterfall, forming natural cisterns in the rocks, fell in cascades from one to the other. “A _châlet_ at last!” “We call them _Senner_ huts here,” said A. Z. “When men have the charge of the cattle, they are called _Senners_; when women, _Sennerins_. Let us go to where that girl is standing at the door of her hut; she seems an acquaintance of our guide’s. These _Sennerins_,” she continued, looking attentively at the one who was now about to supply them with cheese and butter—“these _Sennerins_ are the theme of almost all the national poetry and songs here in the mountains.” “They would not inspire me,” said Hamilton, laughing. “I see nothing very poetical about them, if this one may be taken as a specimen.” “You do not understand their manners or mode of life,” said Baron Z—. “Their isolated situation and primitive occupations are poetical—these mountains and endless forests are poetical—there is poetry in the sound of the bell, which answers to every movement of the grazing cow—in the tinkling of the little bells, which, like castanets, denote the quicker motions of the goats!” “True,” said A. Z.; “and you would find that round-faced, thick-legged girl picturesque, if not poetical, could we remain long enough for you to hear her singing to assemble her herd, and see her surrounded by her cows and goats this evening.” “Shall we not pass the night in one of these sorts of huts?” asked Hamilton. “Not in a _Senner_ hut,” replied Baron Z—. “It is the woodmen and foresters’ _châlet_ to which we are going; the ground is Austrian, but the woods are Bavarian; and it is through the _Klamm_ that the wood is drifted for the salt-works at Reichenhall.” “Through the _Klamm_,” repeated Hamilton, slowly and musingly. “You look as if you did not know what the word _Klamm_ meant,” observed A. Z. “I must confess I do not, although I looked for it yesterday evening in my pocket dictionary. The explanation was a spasm in the throat; or, close, solid, narrow——”