All the rest has been carved away by rain and frost; and some day the Matterhorn itself will be carved away, and its last stone topple into the glacier at its foot.

See, as we have been talking, we have got into the woods.
Oh, what beautiful woods, just like our own.
Not quite.

There are some things growing here which do not grow at home, as you will soon see.

And there are no rocks at home, either, as there are here.
How strange, to see trees growing out of rocks! How do their roots get into the stone?
There is plenty of rich mould in the cracks for them to feed on-- "Health to the oak of the mountains; he trusts to the might of the rock-clefts.
Deeply he mines, and in peace feeds on the wealth of the stone." How many sorts of trees there are--oak, and birch and nuts, and mountain- ash, and holly and furze, and heather.
And if you went to some of the islands in the lake up in the glen, you would find wild arbutus--strawberry-tree, as you call it.

We will go and get some one day or other.
How long and green the grass is, even on the rocks, and the ferns, and the moss, too.