whether we act in accordance with, or in opposition to this Divine plan?
Towards noon we were again in motion. The road, but which is indeed no road, now continually follows the ever more rapid and abundant Reuss. The miserable path seems less dangerous than that of yesterday, and we begin to descend. The tract through which we pass is a petrifaction, without beauty or vegetation, but lovely cascades roar and glitter in the mountain, and the sun passes joyously over the rigid heights. Our road lies across many mountain streams, the only enliveners of the desolate region.
At length we reach a few poor houses. It is the little inn “Realp,” where a Capuchin monk finds the traveler room to rest and refresh himself. We also solicit the good father's hospitality, because there is no other shelter on the road to Andermatt, the goal of our day's journey. We halt here, but are somewhat astonished when, instead of a Capuchin monk, a rosy young girl, with a red bow of ribbon on her throat, comes to meet us at the door. Within the salle, we found the father, who was playing cards with two shabby-looking semi-gentlemen, and two, ditto, half-grown boys. He was a large, jovial-looking man, good-natured and kind, but bearing very little resemblance to the model hermit of these parts,—Nicholas de Flue. After he had welcomed us, and given orders about our dinner, he asked permission to continue his game, which we, of course, gave. The rosy maiden, in the mean time, laid the cloth, and served us up a very good little dinner, for which a reasonable charge
