and artistic peeps such as may be equalled in the Himalayas, but surely are nowhere surpassed on this planet of ours.
Beyond the flat rise snowy cones and isolated pinnacles, and the eye follows peak after peak, and snowfield after snowfield, till vision loses itself amid the blinding whiteness of Mount Earnslaw, uncontaminated as yet by the touch of human tread.
A Mr. Mason owns a very beautiful bit of fairy land here, adorned with beauteous vegetation, and which goes by the name of Paradise. It is not inaptly named. On the hither side a Mr. Haynes, an Irish storekeeper, has recently purchased a property; and, with Hibernian humour, has christened it Purgatory, because, as he says, "you must pass through Purgatory before you reach Paradise."
We have just been lucky enough to get a glimpse of Earnslaw's hoary crown. Now a wild blinding sleet comes down, and hides all the glorious panorama from our gaze; and, as the steam whistle screams hoarsely, as if in emulation of the shrieking storm, we seek "the seclusion that our cabin grants" to thaw our icy feet and fingers, and muse on the marvellous glory of crag and peak, and lake and fell that enwraps us all around.
At Kinloch, the tourist will find every comfort at Bryant's Hotel. At Glenorchy, on the other side, Mr. Birley has clean and comfortable quarters at your disposal, and is attentive to your every want.
