The Argosy — page 155: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

From Salzburg to Gastein. Iq! “Thike it,” he replied. “ It is warm in winter. One of my sisters works in the fields : that would not suit me. The other is a servant.” ‘Do you earn wages? ” “‘ Not yet, Herr. Next year I shall begin.” ‘How do you manage about clothes?” “IT sometimes have them given to me. Sometimes a little money, too. My sisters help meas far as they can ; they can’t do much.” ** Do you like apples ?” I asked, after we had walked a little way in lence. “Qh ja!” And this time the gleam of intelligence was unmistakable. I had taken one from the tea-table as a curiosity, the biggest and ruddiest of its kind ever seen. Here was a good opportunity of dis- posing of it. The boy turned it critically round with both hands,” smelt it, and finally crammed it into his pocket with a smile of satisfaction. “‘T like apples,” said he ; ‘‘and this is a beauty.” “Why don’t you eat it?” He shook his head. “By and by. Not now. We are coming to the waterfall.” We had reached the foot of the mountain, and could hear the water dashing over the stony rocks. <A short, steep ascent, and we came.to it. Dusk was growing apace, and much of the beauty of the scene was fast disappearing with daylight. But on the other hand there was that mysterious atmosphere of holiness and repose over nature that always accompanies the twilight. We clambered up to a small wooden bndge thrown across the chasm, whence could be obtained the best view of the dashing fall, both above and below. The spray flew over in a shower, but who cared when so spell-bound? It was a sight not to be lost, though the volume of water was less great than rumour had led one to anticipate. Its situation was completely romantic. The solitude at this darkening hour seemed excessive, striking the senses with awe. No sound save the roaring of the waters, no sign of human habitation but the mill below ; of which the stream in its course worked the wheel. Not until darkness had quite crept over all did we turn back. As we descended the path towards a picturesque hut built of rough logs of wood, the mill door opened, and a woman with a lighted candle issued forth. We all reached the hut together, and then observed that it contained photographs, stones, bits of wood, and other curiosities for sale. Even here, at this hour of the night, when one might have thought to escape under cover of the darkness, the inevitable bargain had to be made. So after due examination of the relics, we were set free of the toils with a view of the waterfall and a fossil stone. The candle was extinguished, and the solitary but civil and pleasant woman walked back to her mill. As the door closed behind her witha click, | COMIC OOKS .CO_pmd