They compare a view of life with their own view, to condemn it summarily; and he was a curious object to Chillon as the perfect opposite of himself.
'I would advise you,' Chillon said, 'to get a pair of Styrian boots, if you intend to stay in the Alps.

Those boots of yours are London make.' 'They 're my father's make,' said Mr.Woodseer.
Chillon drew out his watch.

'Come, Carinthia, we must be off.' He proposed his guide, and, as Anton was rejected, he pointed the route over the head of the valley, stated the distance to an inn that way, saluted and strode.
Mr.Woodseer, partly rising, presumed, in raising his hat and thanking Carinthia, to touch her fingers.

She smiled on him, frankly extending her open hand, and pointing the route again, counselling him to rest at the inn, even saying: 'You have not yet your strength to come on with us ?' He thought he would stay some time longer: he had a disposition to smoke.
She tripped away to her brother and was watched through the whiffs of a pipe far up the valley, guiltless of any consciousness of producing an impression.

But her mind was with the stranger sufficiently to cause her to say to Chillon, at the close of a dispute between him and Anton on the interesting subject of the growth of the horns of chamois: 'Have we been quite kind to that gentleman ?' Chillon looked over his shoulder.