flower fields, the sparkling waterfalls, and the coloured glaciers, all mingled, till the gazer was oppressed with their very beauty.

Well, in this village lived an Alpine guide, named Ulric, with his good wife and their little daughter, Annette. A peaceful life they led, with no yearning after gain, no deeprooted love of gold to corrupt their hearts; for, thank God! that yearning and that love clings only in all its strength to great cities, and has not yet found its way to the free mountains and the wild woods of the brave Swiss; but still Ulric had had his sorrows, for death reigns alike every where, and his tears had mingled with the tears of his wife, in falling on the little graves of children who had past away to God; but all this was as a dream, now; and Annette was left to be their comfort, her voice fell in its merriment on their ears, and gladdened their inmost spirits, and they felt no trouble.

It was in a low-built chalêt, or mountain cottage, that the guide and his family dwelt. On the ground floor were stables for the mule and goats: while an outside staircase led to the dwelling-rooms above; all was perfect in its simplicity, and the scent of the Alpine strawberry flowers made the clear air sweet.

Little Annette used to tend the goats, and lead them to the green meadow land in the early morning, and at twilight she returned for them again, when though the sun had set on all around her, she could still watch its beams, gilding and brightening the strange and beautiful summits of Mount Blanc and the Jung-frau mountains. Oh, those were happy walks to her through the wild passes, where the roe-buck and the chamois bounded, and above which

the eagle of the Alps hovered! sometimes she could hear the storm gathering under her feet, and the thunder rolling beneath, while free from danger, she looked on the bright blue sky above.

In these walks Annette was often joined by her cousin, Pierre, a poor silly boy, who was harmless and good-natured, and she liked him to be with her; for in Switzerland, those who are thus afflicted meet only with respect and love, and are called in their language, "Souls of God, without sin;" how happy if all felt for them like this.

One evening, when Annette and Pierre were returning homewards with their goats, the boy, after keeping his clear meaningless eye fixed for some time on the mountain tops above their village, turned to Annette and said in a low voice," The great snow-ball of the mountain will be falling on us all soon; and the goats, and you and I, cousin, will be still in one white grave.'

Accustomed as the little girl was to hear the strange incoherent ramblings of the idiot child, these words startled her, and she looked quickly up.

Then her eye following his, fell upon one of the mighty masses of loose snow that overhung the village, and seemed only waiting for a breath to hasten its fall, and though she must have seen it often and often before, yet never till now had she thought it looked so large and terrible; taking Pierre's hand in her's, and bidding him think no more of a foolish fancy, she hurried home, and after leaving the goats in the stable, ran up the winding staircase into the cottage. Father," said she, as she entered, "will you come outside for a moment, and look at the great snow flake up the mountain; it seems larger than ever, to-night?"

Ulric smiled kindly on his little girl, and followed her out into the green meadow, at the side of the chalêt. For some time he looked attentively at the mass of snow, without speaking, then laying his hand on the fair head of his child, he said-"The snow from the sides of the mountain have swelled that great mass fearfully, Annette; but I do not think there is any fear for us, and we must pray that God will cause it to fall on the other side of the mountain, where no people dwell." And fervently did the child so pray, before she slept that night, and she made poor Pierre kneel down too, and say the words after her.

Next morning, when she awoke, all fear had past away, and the songs of the child Annette were as sweet as ever; but at noon, when she came in from the goat walk, her young face was saddened to hear that her dear father had been sent for, to follow his occupation as guide to an English party, who were going across Mount St. Gothard into Italy, by the Trembling Valley, and he would not return for many days. Neither Annette or her mother feared for Ulric's safety, as they knew he was the best and boldest guide of the Alps, and his constant journeys of the kind had given them a feeling of security; but they sorrowed for his absence, and the hardships he might have to undergo. Annette begged to be allowed to go with him some part of the way, to the village where he was to meet his employers, and return with Pierre in the evening time, and this wish was granted.

It was a lovely morning, and while Pierre ran on in front gathering blue flax flowers in one valley, and making hard ice balls in the next; Annette, by her father's side, was listening to his accounts of some of his adventures.

He told her that in many places amidst the mountains, the drivers of mules fill the bells which hang to the necks of their animals, with hay, and do not even dare to speak, lest the motion of the air should shake the mighty masses of snow above them; and they constantly fire off their pistols, before entering a valley, to try the firmness of the great snow flakes that surround it. He also told Annette about the Trembling Valley, which is a bridge formed of perpetual ice, that shakes under the feet of the traveller, while from beneath it, the moaning and sighing of the goldsanded river Tessin can be plainly heard.

"But, father," said Annette, when he had finished speaking; "you must often feel frightened in these fearful places; I wish you would be a guide no longer, and come and live always at home in our dear village."

་

"There might be as much danger there as elsewhere, Annette, if God willed it so, but as yet He has led me unhurt through all perils, and I feel no fear; last autumn, I was with a party in the Simplon, whose Irish servant used to say, in all difficulties, Cheer up, my friends, for every dark cloud has a silver lining;' and truly I have found it The words were interpreted to me, and I have never forgotten them; and now, my child," added Ulric, as they reached the appointed place of separation, "we must part;" and he bent down to kiss Annette's fair cheek, but the cold was on it. This is the cloud," he exclaimed, look for its silver lining."

so.

"But father! my father!" sobbed the child,

should be hurt; if you should never come back to us.'

if you

We must not look on the dark side of things, Annette;

but I hope it will be otherwise; though even if it were so, the cloud of death, too, has a silver lining in the bright beyond, where we shall all pray to meet. Return to your mother, my little girl, and be her comfort. I have been on more dangerous expeditions than this, unhurt; God will preserve me;"-and with a long kiss, they parted.Which was to be in the greatest danger, before they met again, the father, in his wild and fearful calling; the young child in her cottage home, the Lord of Heaven only knew, and in mercy he hid that knowledge from their hearts.

or

Ulric then turned to Pierre, who with an earnest face, had been listening to the last part of their conversation, and bid him be a good boy, and take care of his cousin on her way home; for words like these gave pleasure to the poor half-witted child, and did no harm to others.

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Sadly did Annette turn towards home, and Pierre wishing, in his own strange way, to see her smile again, drew closer, and whispered in her ear those words, of which he could scarcely understand the meaning, but whose sweet sound alone had caught his fancy, Every dark cloud has a silver lining.' Then she looked up at him and did smile, and Pierre having seen what he wanted, bounded off towards the village, whilst Annette lingered a moment to watch that bright promise repeated in the sky, for it was sunset time, and there was much silver and many clouds above.

One cold evening, not long after Ulric's departure, his little daughter, on her return from the pasture, was in the lower part of the chalêt, engaged in milking the snow-white goats, which were her constant care.