It is said that many children who live in the central provinces, away from the ocean, have a great longing¹ to see it. I who had never been away from the monotonous² country surrounding us looked forward eagerly to seeing the mountains.  
I tried to imagine them; I had seen pictures of several, and I had even painted them for the “Donkey's Skin.” My sister, when she visited Lake Lucerne, sent me a description of the mountains, and wrote me long letters about them, such as are seldom addressed to a child of my age. And my ideas were further extended by some photographs of glaciers³ that my sister brought me for my magic-lantern. I desired with all my heart to see the mountains themselves.
 
One day, as if in answer to my wish, there came a letter that created quite a stir in our house. It was from a first cousin of my father, who had at one time regarded my father with a brotherly love, but............