By 6 P.M. the face has dissolved and gone, and the goatee has become what looks like the shadow of a tower with a pointed roof, and the shoe had turned into what the printers call a “fist” with a finger pointing. If I were now imprisoned on a mountain summit a hundred miles northward of this point, and was denied a timepiece, I could get along well enough from four till six on clear days, for I could keep trace of the time by the changing shapes of these mighty shadows on the Virgin’s front, the most stupendous dial I am acquainted with, the oldest clock in the world by a couple of million years. I suppose I should not have noticed the forms of the shadows if I hadn’t the habit of hunting for faces in the clouds and in mountain crags—a sort of amusement which is very entertaining even when you don’t find any, and brilliantly satisfying when you do. I have searched through several bushels of photographs of the Jungfrau here, but found only one with the Face in it, and in this case it was not strictly recognizable as a face, which was evidence that the picture was taken before four o’clock in the afternoon, and also evidence that all the photographers have persistently overlooked one of the most fascinating features of the Jungfrau show. I say fascinating, because if you once detect a human face produced on a great plan by unconscious nature, you never get tired of watching it. At first you can’t make another person see it at all, but after he has made it out once he can’t see anything else afterward. The King of Greece is a man who goes around quietly enough when off duty. One day this summer he was traveling in an ordinary first-class compartment, just in his other suit, the one which he works the realm in when he is at home, and so he was not looking like anybody in particular, but a good deal like everybody in general. By and by a hearty and healthy German-American got in and opened up a frank and interesting and sympathetic conversation with him, and asked him a couple of thousand questions about himself, which the king answered good-naturedly, but in a more or less indefinite way as to private particulars. “Where do you live when you are at home?” “In Greece.” “Greece! Well, now, that is just astonishing! Born there?” “No.” “Do you speak Greek?” “Yes.” “Now, ain’t that strange! I never expected to live to see that. What is your trade? I mean how do you get your living? What is your line of business?” “Well, I hardly know how to answer. I am only a kind of foreman, on a salary; and the business—well, is a very general kind of business.” “Yes, I understand—general jobbing—little of everything—anything that there’s money in.” “That’s about it, yes.” “Are you traveling for the house now?” “Well, partly; but not entirely. Of course I do a stroke of business if it falls in the way—” “Good! I like that in you! That’s me every time. Go on.” “I was only going to say I am off on my vacation now.”