finally had to give it up; but we found a fragment that had once belonged to an opera glass, and by digging around and turning over the rocks we gradually collected all the lenses and the cylinders and the various odds and ends that go to make up a complete opera glass. We afterwards had the thing reconstructed, and the owner can have his adventurous long-lost property by submitting proofs and paying costs of rehabilitation. We had hopes of finding the owner there, distributed around amongst the rocks, for it would have made an elegant paragraph; but we were disappointed. Still, we were far from being disheartened, for there was a considerable area which we had not thoroughly searched; we were satisfied he was there, somewhere, so we resolved to wait over a day at Leuk and come back and get him. Then we sat down to polish off the perspiration and arrange about what we would do with him when we got him. Harris was for contributing him to the British Museum; but I was for mailing him to his widow. That is the difference between Harris and me: Harris is all for display, I am all for the simple right, even though I lose money by it. Harris argued in favor of his proposition and against mine, I argued in favor of mine and against his. The discussion warmed into a dispute; the dispute warmed into a quarrel. I finally said, very decidedly,—
"My mind is made up. He goes to the widow."
Harris answered sharply,—
"And my mind is made up. He goes to the Museum."
I said, calmly,—
"The Museum may whistle when it gets him."
Harris retorted,—
"The widow may save herself the trouble of whistling, for I will see that she never gets him."
After some angry bandying of epithets, I said,—
"It seems to me that you are taking on a good many airs about these remains. I don't quite see what you've got to say about them?"
