The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-03-29
TEE CLIMBER OF
THE YOTENHEIM.
A Strange Girl Who WandGrS Over The
Norway Mountains.
She Travels Alone for the Pleasure of Climb
ing-She Hates the Roads Because
They Are Too Prosaic.

tiania, Thomas Nelson Page, T. P. O'Con-
nor, his wife, that is /, and an English girl.
We thou ht when we reached Stalheim that
we were remote from civilization, living in
the one hotel, built on a small fiat shelf of
land half way up the mountain, and oppo-
site the most magnificent mountain gorge in
the world. writes correspondent from Lon
don to the Sun. In the evening we had a
fugitive and an Irregular pest brought on
the stout and almost humanity intel
lgent Norwegian ponies. Travellers
came and went, doors slammed,
there was the pulse and quckness OF
life. We were remote, it is true. but yet we
were not, as we were later on, overawed by
the desOlatiun of the scenery and the utter
loneliness. After two days driving from
Stalheim the mountains lost every Vestige of
verdure and became gaunt, unfrlendly.
glstening triangles of stone, penetrating
sad gray sky. A mountain gorge was no
longer semi-transparent, but dark as night,
and the lakes put on an inky blackness.
They had a sort of swallowing look. And
not creature on the road, no stray travel
ing carriages, or coart, or goat. or chicken
T. P's Irish, tnrned-up, friendly, gregariouS
nose became almost straight with depression,
and dear Tom Pages kindly cocksure-
ness melted before the hundredth black
mountain. We are but specks in a monster
universe. The House of Commons, with its
beautiful groups of lights and the comfort
ing regular tick of Big Ben, faded away
into dream to T.. p. Tom Page wondered
that in this terrible black and gray world a
tear had ever been shed for "MarSe Chan"
and only the womenkind who had inaugu-
rated the tour stood Loyalty by 1.-THE mag
nificent scenery" AS cold. raw wind
blew up and something between snow, hail
and rain came along, L. =. said he didn't
care about scenery, and never did; men
and women and houses and horses and dogs
are more interesting than all the scenery ID
this world" Forum ately long, low, barn
like, forbidding hotel cut short his discourse,
and we all got down from the carriage and
entered the hall.
A BARREN PLACE.
On one side of the hotel was Il range of
blue-black mountains; on the other large
lake filed with copying ink, not a tree or
shrub or leaf of any kind. not COW or dog
or cat TO be seen. Just baroness and black
ness and silence. The drawing-room walls
were whitewaShed. The sparse furniture
was black hOrse-hair. There were two bare
tables, and in one end stove, very tall,
rigid, black and cold, reminding us, Ike the
mountains, that we were olly mortal.
Presently, when had wiped some tears
out of my eyes, induced by the cold l saw
somebody seated at one of the tables turn
ing over the leaves of the visitors book. A
little girl, | thought. So l sat down on
slippery horse-hair chair near her. When
she turned her small face to me-. 1t
was not that of a child, but of a
woman of 20 or "a years of age. Her hair
was cut short and stood right up all over
her small head as If 1t had been electrified.
Her face was very tiny and rather pale,
and her small nosa turned up like the point
of Chinese shoe, and was burned bright
scarlet at the tip. She mad small restless
gray eyes, little, round mouth filed, like
+ the majority of English women, with bad
teeth. She wore blue wooden jersey, with
a rery grubby Jaeger vest peeplng from De-
meath the sleeves, and rough blue serge
petticoat Just below her knees, blue stock
ings, and tennis shoes. A leather tourists
strap, worn across her shoulders, held her
library and her wardrobe. Her library con-
sisted of guide-bOok to Norway, cOyerless
and dog-eared as only the climate Of Nor
way and an English climber could
possibly dog-ear any book. Her wardrobe.
from the size of her knapsack, l should say
consisted OF an extra pair OF stockings and
clean Jaeger. She looked at me with her
small eyes full of good nature, and spoke in
little high voice, biting off her words
quickly, as though every moment were
precious
Just Gomez" she said.
EYES," l answered, five minutes ago.
Isn't it horribly cold?"
Don't know. Did you walk ?"
"Waik?" l looked at her blankly. had
been thinking what pioneer was to drive.
Eyes. walk. l have walked twenty-five
miles to-day"
From where?"
From the Yotenheim."
WHAT Is THE YoTENHEM?"
Her nose could not curl up in scoTn, but
her mouth did. ''Yotenhem is the range of
mountains TO your left, peaks all covered
with snow; (exultantiy) always covered
with snow" Her long thin hands were
Al. =.
she were a snow bird clawing the newly
fallen flakes. | shuddered and went nearer
the fire which T. Z. had ordered in the tall
mountain stove. Page had picked up
his ears at ~ otenheim," and now settled
himself across the table and began dis
cross-examinaton of "The Prisoner at the
Bar" Mr.. Page is a beautiful, pathetic
writer, but the blood of the lawyer is in him.
He is that before all else. The Door little
witch squirmed, for English people have
natural aversion to being questioned. Mr..
Page eros ;ed his legs, cleared his throat and
btgan: 49,.
Glow did You live on the Yotenheim?"
sin huts."
"What sort of hntS ?"
Tourists huts."
Are they cOmfortable?"
VERY. You sleep in berth, as on ship
board, with warm blanket TO cover YOU"
How long were you there?'
Five weeks"
"What did you do to amuse yonrself?"
Climbed from one mountain to another.
Most of the other people had guides, but l
never had.
why not?"
T." Not necessary. l have long been a
climber; once or twice when l was caught
in a snow-storm it was very unpleasant"
But you had something to keep you
warm-a waterproof?'
"Oh. no. don't approve of waterproofs;
they are extremely unhealthy"
Had you pleasant society?'
There were good many climbers there
from different parts of the world. but only
two English people-a man and myself"
"What had you to eat ?'
"Oh, extremely good food"
On his most judicial tones.) +" But what?"
on, coffee and cheese and pancakes"
"How were the pancakes made ?''
with an indignant fush) In the usual
way that pancakes are made. How do you
make pancake?
Nothing daunted, still iudicially. but very
| gentlyD well, in Virginia we make pan
cakes with eggs, -four and milk"
Really So they make them on the
Yotenheim."
Did you leave many climbers behind
you?D
very last person left"
just then the whirr Of bicycle wheels out
side and another Yotenheimer walked in.
He was the other, the maD-climber of En-
gland.
SHE LOOKED MISERABLE.
Poor little thing, she looked miserable
when he said he had left the huts at -
o'clock, five hours after her departure.
Meantime +. p. thawed out and rendered
| impudent by the fire, was speaking soto
| voce to Tom Page What in the dickens
| do you mean by cross-questioning that girl
in your American manner? Don't you
know we don't do things over here like
| that?' Even Irishmen think themselves at
| liberty to criticize American manners, but
| Tom Pages ancestors didn't sign the Dec
laration of Independence for nothing, so In
| a few moments he returned to the attack.
Where are you going from herer"
| She pointed one long finger at page in
| the visitors books. and Norwegian sem
tence, which fortunately Mr.. Page under
stood, as he and Mr.. O'Connor had been
| studying Morse. Freely translated it read
thus: "From Yotenheim; going God knows
whereof
| Mr. Pare. softly, "Ah, ha! and do Won