re was not a sound, save
the dipping of the oar. We tasted the black water. The Dead Sea cannot
be salter. We were hushed and oppressed, as if each felt the weight of
the great mountain-mass over us.

The miners were not at work on that day, but like gnomes they were
silently coming and going in the shadows, never omitting the "_Glueck
auf!_" as they met and parted. There were long, weary stairs to climb.
Finally we came to a little car running on a narrow inclined track. In
this we went rapidly through galleries and dry chambers, and finally
were propelled into the daylight with an unexpected velocity. We had
become quite accustomed to our attire, but declined the proposition of
the photographer, who wished to turn his camera upon us for the benefit
of friends in America, and we gained the dressing-room with much more
composure than we had felt when leaving it.

It is believed that these mines were worked in the first century; and
many a grave has been opened in excavating which gave up bones and
copper ornaments once belonging to Celtic salt-miners of the third and
fourth centuries. Towers erected in the thirteenth century are still
strongholds. The whole region, too, is full of salt-springs. The lofty
mountains and rich valleys, the sequestered lakes and blue-gray rivers
with their waterfalls, and the old castles, quaint costumes, and
legends, make it a tempting country for such ease-loving travellers as
were we five, and for the intrepid Alpine climber it offers almost as
much as any part of Switzerland.

That night we drove into Mozart's birthplace just as the Salzburg chimes
were playing an evening hymn of his composing. The curate and Elise
seemed to have found something down in the salt-mine of which they did
not choose to talk, and, as we bade each other good-night, Cecilia said,
"I'm glad I did it, but _I_ wouldn't go down there again: would _you_?"
and Sarnayana and I thought we wouldn't; but the others looked as if
ready to repeat the excursion the following day.

P.S.--Elise and the curate are to be married, and the parish is to have
a shepherdess. Cecilia, Samayana, and I have no doubt of its being a
love-match. She never could marry him after seeing him in a salt-mine
costume if she didn't love him. MARGERY DEANE.

ANTHONY CALVERT BROWN.

First, as my grandfather used to tell, there were the woods and the
Oneida Indians and the Mohawks; then the forest was cleared away, and
there was the br