Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. But Miss Stanley took no notice of these things. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. But to England we will go. ’ He gestured towards the fulminating general. It was then, I am sure, empty.
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