w-storms, which
would cover the road still deeper, and once more obliterate the track.
This led to a fresh debate about the journey; but they were all
unwilling to turn back. Only a few miles separated them from Domo
d'Ossola, and they were assured that, if no fresh snow should fall,
they would be able to start on the following morning. This last
assurance once more confirmed their wavering resolution, and they
concluded to wait at the station.

For the remainder of that day they waited at the little way-side inn,
amusing themselves with looking out upon their surroundings. They were
environed by a scene of universal white. Above them towered vast
Alpine summits, where the wild wind blew, sweeping the snow-wreaths
into the air. In front was a deep ravine, at the bottom of which there
ran a torrent that foamed and tossed over rocks and boulders. It was
not possible to take a walk to any distance. Their boots were made for
lighter purposes than plunging through snow-drifts; and so they were
forced to remain indoors, and pass the time as best they could.

On the following morning they found every thing in readiness for a
start. In front of the inn they saw five sleds of that kind which is
universally used in the northern part of America. Each sled was of the
rudest possible construction, and was drawn by one horse; straw was
spread over the sled, upon which fur robes and blankets were flung.
The party was distributed among these sleds, so that each one should
have as light a load as possible, while one of the rude vehicles
carried the luggage.

Thus arranged, they all started off. And now, since they are all
fairly under way, I propose to introduce them, individually and
collectively, to my very good friend the reader.

First of all I must mention the fact that the party consisted chiefly
of ladies and their attendants.

Of these the most prominent was a slim, tall, elderly lady, with
large, dark, soft eyes, that spoke of a vanished youth and beauty from
her heavily wrinkled face. She was the Dowager Lady Dalrymple, and
acted toward the rest of the party in the multifarious capacity of
chaperon, general, courier, guide, philosopher, friend, and Mentor.

Next came Mrs. Willoughby, a widow of great beauty and fascination, a
brunette, good-natured, clever, and shrewd. I might here pause, and go
into no end of raptures on the various qualities of this lady's
character; but, on the whole, I think I'd better not, as they