The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-12-24

/
! described conditions in a single hour, even IL
| they were correctly stated. But, on the whole,
the SUMPTION appearing to DC the hopetuilerr route,
little or no part in the discussion, and scarcely
| spoke.
| To Geneva, to Lausanne, along the level mar.
| gin OF the lake to Vevay, so into the winding
| valley between the spurs of the mountains, and
| into the valley of the Rhone. The sound Of the
| carrlage-wheels as they ratified on, through the
| day. through the night, became as the wheels of
great clock, recording the hours. No change
| of weather varied the journey, after it had
| hardened into a suen frost. In q sombre yell
low sky they saw the Alpine RANGES; and they
| saw enough of snow on nearer and much lower
hillcps and hillsides, to sully, by contrast, the
purity of lake, torrent, and waterfall, and make
| the villages look discolored and dirty. But no
/ snow fell, nor was there any snow-drift on the
| road. The stalking along the valley of more or
| less Of white mist, changing on their hair and
| dress into icicles, was the only variety between
| them and the gloomy sky. And still by day, and
still by night, the wheels. And still they rolled,
| in the hearing OF one of them, to the burden,
| altered from the burden of the Rhine:-"The
time is gone for robbing him alive, and must
| murder him."
| They came, at length, to the poor little town
| of Brieg, lat the loot of the Simpon. They came
| there after dark but yet could see how dwarfed
| mems works and men became with the immense
| mountains towering over them. Here they
mus lie for the night; and here was warmth of
| fire and lamp aud dinner and wine, and after.
| conference Tesounding, with guides and drivers.
| No human creature had come across the Pass
| for four days. The snow above the snow.line
| was too soft for wheeled carriage, and not hard
enough for sledge. There was snow in the sky.
| There had been snow in the sky for days past,
| and the marvel was that 1t had not fallen, and
| the certainty was that 1t must fall. No vehicle
could cross. The journey might be tried on
mules, or it might be tried on foot; but the best
| guides must be paid danger-price in either case
and that, too, whether they succeeded in taking
| the two travellers across, or turned for safety
| a Id brought them back
| diepuesiO 0hpOrpiznr M nori
| whatever. He sat silently smoking by the fire
until the room was cleared and Vendale referred
| to him.
Bah I am weary of these poor devils and
| their trade" he said, in reply. always the
| same story. 1t is the story of their trade to-
| day, as it was the story of their trade when l
was a ragged boy. What do you and want?
| We want knapsack each, and mountain-statf
| each. We want no guile; we should guide
| him; be would not guide us. We leave our
portmanteaus here, and we cross together. We
| have been on the mountains together before
| now, and am born, and l know this
| Pass-Pass ! rather High Road-by heart.
We will leave these poor devils, in pity, to trade
| with others; but they must not delay to make
| pretense OF earning money. Which is all they
| mean.n
Vepdale, glad to be quit of the dispute, and
| to cut the knot, active, adventurous, bent on
getting forward and, therefore, very susceptible
| to the last hint readily assented. Within two
hours they had purchased what they wanted
for the expedition, had packed their knapsacks,
At break of day they found half the town col.
| lected in the narrow street to see them depart.
| The people talked together in groups; the guides
| and drivers whispered apart, and looked up at
| the sky; no one wished them good journey.
As they began the ascent CLEAN of sun s6one
| from the otherwise unaltered sky, and for
moment turned the tin spires OF the town 10
| silver.
| out while he spoke). perhaps our example
will open the Pass on this side"
| "No: we shall not be followed" returned
| 0benI eizer, looking up at the sky and back at
the valley. 1--WE shall be alone up yonder"
ON TIE MOUNTAIN.
The road was fair enough for stout walkers,
aud the air grew lighter and easier to breathe
as the two ascended. But the settled gloom
remained as it had remained for davs back.
| Nature seemed to have come to pause. Tue
sense of hearing no less than the sense of sight
was troubled by having to wait so long for the
| change, whatever 1t might be, that impended.
The silence was as palpable and heavy as the
| lowering clouds, or rather cloud, for there
seemed TO be but one in all the sky and that one
| covering the whole of 1t.
| Although the light was thus dismally shrouded,
| the prospect was not obscured. Down in the
| valley of the Rhone behind them, the stream
could be traced through all its many windings,
| oppressively sombre and solemn in its one
! leaden hue, colorless waste. Far and high
above them, glaciers and suspended aValanches
| overhung the spots where they must pass bv-
| and-by; deep and dark below them on their
| right were awful precipice and roaring torrent:
| tremendous mountains arose in every VISTA
| The gigantic landscape, uncheered by a touch of
| changing light or a solitary ray of sun was vet
terribly distinct in Its ferocity. The hearts of
| two lonely men might shrink little, If they
| had to win their way for miles and hours among
| a legion of silent and motionless men-mere men
| like emselves-all looking at them with fixed
| and frowning front. But how much more when
| the legion is of Natures mightiest works, and
| the frOwn may turn to fury in an instant
As they ascended, the road became gradually
more rugged and difficult. But the spirits Of
| Vendale rose as they mounted higher, leaving
| so much more of the road behind them con-
| queIed. 0brenreizer spoke little, and held on
| with determined purpose. Both, in respect of
| agility and endurance, were well qualified for
| the expedition. Whatever the born noun
taineer read in the weather tokens that was
| illeeIble to the other, he kept to himself
| 'Shall we get across today?' ~ asked Vendale.
'No," replied the other. ''You see how much
| deeper the snow lies here than it lay half
| league lower. The higher we mount, the
| deeper the snow will lie. Walking IS half
II we get as high as the nth Refuge, and lie to-
| night at the Hospice, we shall do we'll"
| ''Is there no danger of the weather rising in
the night" asked Vendae, anXiously, "and
| showing us upW
relzer, with a cautious glance onward and up
ward, "tO render silence our best policy. You
| have heard OF the Bridge of the Ganther"
II have crossed II once"
| "In the summeIW
'Yes; in the travelling season."
| eyes; but IL is another thing at this seasony
| with sneer, as though he were out of temper.
This is not a time OF year, or state OF things,
| on an Alpine Pass, that you gentlemen holiday
travellers know much aboutn
"You are my Guide.n suid Vendale, good
| humoredly. ~ trust to your
81 am your Gbide," said Obenreizer, land
| will yuide Won IN vour iourney,s end There Ia