The snow got deeper and deeper. Presently we passed a carriage abandoned on the side of the road, farther on a dead horse, and again a form, which looked terribly human, covered by a white pall. After a while we came to a wider part. On the right was a sloping mountain-side half covered with snow, half with golden narcissus, and showing a dry watercourse, dotted about with huge stones. On the left was a smooth field of snow, across which wheel marks could be distinguished. “We must cross here,” said Peppino, “as someone has before us; the snow is doubtless hard, and by whipping up the horses I will get you over. The road is impossible.” My husband was not of the same opinion. He considered the watercourse a better road than a snow-field, and the presence of stones made him surmise that the bottom was hard. The matter was hotly discussed, but finally my husband gave in, seeing that Peppino knew the road and he did not. Away we galloped--bump, bump, bump. Then, without warning, there came a tremendous crack, and, lo and behold! there we were, sitting in our carriage, whilst the horses and Peppino continued with the wheels! It was, of course, a terrible dilemma, but again I had to laugh; it was really too funny. My husband and Peppino carried me and the children and perched each of us on a stone, where I stood on one leg and cawed like a crow. “One should always take misfortunes gaily,” I said. That was the last straw; my better half had to laugh, but the smile was rather sickly. Then we held a council of war. Peppino, good man, saved the situation. “I will go back with the horses and fetch the carriage we saw abandoned at the side of the road,” he said. “I know the owner, and will take the responsibility for borrowing it on my own shoulders.” So off he went, whilst we cawed to one another from stone to stone and ate snow, there being nothing else to do. Before long Peppino returned triumphantly with the borrowed carriage, the luggage was transferred, and we started off again, leaving our first equipage standing disconsolately in the snow. All went well until eight o’clock, although my husband and Peppino had constantly to push at the wheels. They both looked ten years older than at the start, so lined and weary were their faces. At about eight we came to a narrow track, a real road winding round the mountain above a fathomless precipice. On each side the snow lay in drifts of five and six feet deep, and the centre track showed no sign of previous passage. We had not gone fifty yards along this road when the horses stopped and the wheels disappeared in a drift. Yelling, pushing, and pulling had no effect whatever. The horses were then harnessed to the splash-board, but their strenuous efforts only resulted in tearing it from the body of the carriage.