The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1880-11-18

III VlCkSDurR.
When the dinner was over strolled
out through one OF the lovlicst situated
villages OF the Alps.
The view down the valley we had just
assembled was enchanting. Behind the
pretty town and edged by green mead
ow sloping upward, was a forest Of tall,
dark frs, and above this an Alp, ang-
ling up the side of a steep mountain,
known to all tourists as the Rigi of the
Kernthal.
1t was only the 25th of February, but
the sun seemed as warm as in midsum-
mer. The grass, so wonderfully green,
was high enough for pasture, and
violets and daises peeped out every
where.
It was dangerously warm, in fact"
muttered the little postmaster IN the blue
cap, as handed him letter to post to
the consul at Z, saying everything was
we'll, but I couldn't possibly be back on
Saturday.
Dangerously warm, because there had
not been so much snow on the mountains
in fifty years as now, and already people
began to hear Of avalanches falling out
of season.
Bleiberg. however is safe enough, 1
thought to myself, as I glanced up the
sides of the old peak where, sure enough,
there We're oceans of snow and Ice glis-
tening in the sunshine, But it was a
mile away, and between pretty Bleiberg
and it swept like dark veil, the forest
of tall fir trees.
Il don't like tits too warm--and
there's no telling,' continued my would
be pessimist Of a postmaster. II haven't
lived in these regions nigh to fifty years
for nothing. Showing all winter. and
hot sun and daisies in February, aren't
natural. 1t means avalanches to some
body somewhere"
had almost forgotten that, as I left
the house of my fair entertainers, I was
informed that it was carnival-day in the
village, and that at three o'clock must
be on hand to see the procession. It was
already after three, and I hurried back
to be offered good place to see from, at
the upper chamber window of Miss Ma.
got, where, joined by her mother, we
awaited the boys in striped trousers and
masks, and the men with music and flags.
1t was novel sight, as the long process
sion filed up the road and approached
the house where we were waiting. The
contrast of the bright colors Of the cos
tunes and flags with the green foliage
and the greener grass at tho road sides;
the comparative silence, disturbed only
by the echeing Of the notes of music from
the lofty rocks; the seeming dim1nutivc~
ness Of everything-of the men, of the
thread-like roads, of even the houses and
trees, as seen under the shadow of the
towering mountains all added impress
siveness to the thing.
There were possibly hundred per-
sons in the procession, with a score of
boys following at the sid es, and ak the
villagers looking on. Suddenly the mu-
sic ceased; there was an awful whizzing
in the air; cry Of ''Avalanchei" AVA
lanche!' and an instant roaring and crack
ing, az of falling forests. In ten short
seconds an awful flood of snow, mangled
trees, ice and stones passed the house like
the swell of mighty sea. Everything
shook: The procession disappeared as if
engulfed by an earthquake. Houses,
right and left, tumbled over, and were
buried in one single instant The air
cooled for moment, and again hot, was
rent with the screams of the mangled
An awful catastrophe had befallen us
the wrath of the mountains was uf;on
the village! For moment we stood par
alyzed-speecbless.
My first impulse was to rush to the
street, and to drag my companions with
me; but there was no street. Even the
garden had disappeared in foam of
snow and ice. We thought of the back
window at the embankment, but as we
tore it open, single glance toward the
mountain told US the horror was but be-
gun. ''The forest'' we all shouted in a
breath: 1t was gone, all gone las if
mown by mighty reaper, and masses of
other snow seemed ready to slide. The
white brow of the mountain still CLEAN
ed in the sunshine, and seemed to laugh
at our desolation. Another whizzinp. n
roar, and with our own eyes we saw the
side of the mountain start. Instantly and
together we sprang down the steps INTO
the lower room. There was a roll Of thun-
der, mighty crash, and then all was
darkness. We were buried alive beneath
an avalanche.
What my first thoughts were am un-
able to recall. I only remember our
fearful cries for help; how we shouted
separately, and then united on one word,
crying out together again and again, and
our only answer was the silence of the
grave.
Every soul in the village, probably,
had been killed, or like ourselves, buried
beneath the snow and ice of the noun
tain. 1t was only after we had exhausted
ourselves with vain cries for help that we
meditated on helping ourselves. We had
not been injured. We remembered that
We were in the little sitting room down
stairs, the windows only of which seemed
broken in, and filled with snow, ice and
stones. The stairway was also filled with
snow and debris of crushed walls. Above
us all was desolation.
The furniture in the room seemed all
in its proper place. We could move
about, but it was becoming terribly cold.
and We felt the sleepy chill, that dread
tul precursor Of death by freezing, over
coming US. Once we were certain that
we heard voices above us, and again we
shouted to try to tell them that we were
still alive. We listened-the voices had
gone-we were aban d0ned to our fate.
For hours we had alternately shouted
and listened, until we sank down in de-
spair. It must have been midnight when
In our groupings about the little chamber,
our hands came in contact with a wax
candle, and in few moments we had
light--light to die by.
Hours went by. I don't know whether
we we sleeping or freezing, when 1
started at hearing cry:
"A light! lig ht!''
l sprang to my feet and again the voice
cried, "A lightl'
In ten minutes three half frozen, half
insane human beings were lifted from
the grave into the gray light of morn
ing. A Kindred noble souls had labor
ed the long night through, seeking the
buried. -
Every man and woman from everr vil.