Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1870-08-27
Letter from Rev. Mr.. McGiffert.
NUMBER Five.


ty Of finding time TO write while passing from
place TO place and from sight TO sight shall
do my best to bring II forward crowding as
much into as little space as possible. Ny last
brought my tour as far as Basle, we having
just LEFT behind us the gathering clouds Of war.
and found shelter in this peaceful land. But
though 10 country at peace, we still found
about us constant indications of war, most of
the force of this little nation being called into
the army at an expense Of $4,000 day. TO
sustain M armed neutrality, and protect the
border from the contestants / will confne
this letter TO our travels in eastern Switzer.
land and across the Alps to Italy.
Our first destination was Lake Lucerne,
which we reached by very crooked railroad
finding lis way among the hills, which, to our
inexperienced eyes, seemed mountains. We
have found in our trip. no town more charm
ingly stuated-more beautiful in its surround
ings than the little village Of Lucernr. AS we
look out from our chamber window we see
the lovely Lake, and rising close beside it, the
first of the Alps, rugged mountain 700 feet
in hight. called Mount Pilatc, from an old ira
diton that PLATE wandered here and cast him
self from its summit. Europe is full of such
traditions, interesting to the traveller, and the
people, but too obsurd to merit transportation
across the Atlantic. We went by steamboat
to the head of the Lake and how shall de-
scribe its beauty, and the grandeur of the in
closing mountains? Our guide books say it
is in vain to attempt its description. Poets
and painters have alike failed, and we, who
are neither, will not attempt their work. I'm
agine yourself, Mr.. Editor, sailing between
hills on each side 5000 feet in hight, with love
ly villages gathering themselves at the foot,
wherever the prccipice leaves standing room,
and then, while every one is admring the
scene, and calling il the finest they have ever
bebeid, turn around a sharp bluff, and behold
instantly rising before you, and about you on
each side, mountains whose tops tower far to-
ward the blue sky, and bear on their SUBMITS,
full in view, vast fields of the midsummer
snow. 1t was our first view of the snow clad
Alps, and the passengers shouted with one ac-
cord, nor were we ashamed to Join them. One
peak directly in front, rose 10 the hight of
5000 feet. We have travcrsed since, many of
the famed lakes of Switzerland and Italy, we
but we have found no scene that equals in
beauty, or surpasses in grandeur that panora-
ma on Lake Lucernr. We may find the
scene more grand; we do not believe it will he
more beautiful, when we stand on the Mer dc
Glace and look up to Mont Blanc.
Two miles above Lake Lucerne, we found u
dirty, miserable village, yclcpt Altdorf, in
teresting as the spot,-according to tradition
where William Tell shot the apple on his sons
head A monument is erected on the spot
where Tell STOOD and fountain where his son
stood. By the way, this country-and by this
we mean Continental Europe-so far as we
have seen it, or rather its cities and villages,
abound in fountains. They are in almost ev-
cry public square, with statucs--some of them
quite eaborate-and to them the thirsty way
far"r resorts. They add much to the beauty
and comfort of these European towns. From
Altdorf we returned to Lucerne, as our course
across the Alps lay in another direction.
Thence we passed to Zurich, a thriving man.
ufacthring city, mainly interesting as the home
of the warrior reformcr, Zunglius. In the
Arsenal we saw his coat of mail, battle-axe
and sword-also the steel bow with which
Tell shot the apple. For the truth of this
latter do not vouch, though l took the bow
in my hand, and aimed with it at the head of
a companion. The apple was not there or
might have tried my skill in archery. Fiom
Zurich by lake to Rapperschwyl; note this
town mainly as an exercise in sprlling-and
thence by rail to Chur, a small, old-fashioned
town at the head of railroad communication,
where we rest for the Sabbath. And let me
say here, that have never before known how
to prize the rest of this precious day. / do not
know how those excursionists and we meet
them on every hand, endure, who forget that
there is Sabbath.
And now across the Alps We engaged a
carriage, as the diligence is very uncomtorta-
ble and unfavorable for sight seeing. Our
course was by the Spugen Pass from Chur
to Lake Como. By three o'clock, Monday we
reached the celebrated Via Mala, and leaving
our driver TO follow, we walked the four miles
which it extends, This lisa fearful gorge, be-
tween precipitous, often over.hanging bluffs
1900 feet high-the Rhine rushing l50 feet be-
low The road is cut in the face of the solid
rock, occasionally tunneled, and though almost
frightiul in appearance at times, is perfectly
safe, being guarded by strong stone walls
This diligence road is n wonder of engineer
ing. In one place particularly, it descends a
cliff, which no man could climb but for the
road, by series of doubling back and forth
so that we stood at the foot and saw the road
above us passing from side to side of the cliff
thirteen times On the second day, at noon
we reached the summit of the pass, and wan.
dering, to secure a shorter path, on foot, we
became separated, and / concluded to clint
the mountain, and secure trophy of the snow
which giistened above our heads. 1t was Il
toilsome undertaking, but l accomplished it
and was well repaid as bathed my hands and
face in the perpetual snow, and carried some
of it in a handkerchief to my companions,
whom found becoming anxious as to my
fate, but sorry enough that they had not been
with me. as divided the trophy among them
The summit of the Pass is 67S3 feet above the
sea: the spot where gathered the snow, il
perhaps 1900 feet higher. have not space
or rather you have not, to detail all the va
rious incidents of this crossing of the noun
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