The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1897-07-25
JACK AND JILL.

My friend, Monsieur -. absolutely
declines to append his name to these
pages, of which he is the virtual author.
Nevertheless, he permits them to be
published anonymously, being, indeed,
a little curious to ascertain what would
have been the public verdict as to his
sanity had he given his personal inn
primatur to a narrative On the face of
it SO incredible.
How" he says, should l have be-
lieved it of another, when I have such
astonishing difficulty at this date in re-
alizing that it was Ives, | my friend,
this same little callow poupon-that
was the actual hero of the adventure?
FideIe (by which term we cover the
| identity of his wife), Fidele Will laugh
in my face sometimes, crying: Not
thou, little cabbage, nor yet ny faith
full was it that dived through half
the world and came up GREATNESS! NO,
no, / cannot believe it, We folk so
matter-of-fact and SO comical! 1t was
of Hansel and Gretel we had been read
ing hand in hand, till we fell asleep in
the twilight, and fancied this thing.
And then she will trill like bird at
the thought of how solemn Herr Gra-
| D0ISlOck OI the f1OuSl Qu Null BIdAS
| would have stared and edged apart,
had we truly recounted to him that
which had befallen us between the
rising and the setting of a sun. We
go forth; it rains-rny faith! as it will
in the Chamounix Valley-and we re-
turn in the evening sopped. Very nat
ural; but, fer a first cause of our wet
ting-ahl there we must be fastidious
| of an explanation, or we shall find our
selves in peril of restraint. Now, write
this for me, and believe it if you can.
| We are not in a conspiracy of imagi-
nation, l and the dear courageous"
Therefore do / write it, speaking in
| the person of Monsieur --, and
mainly from his dictation; and my
| friend shall amuse himself over the
nature of its reception.
| One morning Gt was in late May),
says Monsieur , my Fidele and 1
| left the Hotel du Mont Blanc for
ramble among the hills. We were a
little adventurous, because we were in
| nocent. We took no guide but our COM
mon sense, and it served us very ill
or very WELL according to the point
of view. Ours was that of the birds,
singing to the sky and careless of the
snake in the grass so long as they
can pipe their tune. OF a surety that
| is the only course. If one would make
provision against every chance of ac-
cident, one must dematerialize. To die
| is the only way to secure ones self
from fatality. Still, it is a wise pre-
| caution, I will admit, not to eat of
all hedge fruit because blackberries are
| sweet. Some day, after the fiftieth
| stomach, we shall learn wisdom, my
| F'idele and /. Fools rush in where
| angels fear to tread" That, 1 know
comes into the English gospel. Well,
I will tell you, am content to be con-
| sidered of the first; and my Fidele is
| assuredly of the second. Yet did she
| fear, or I rush in? On the contrary, I
have a little laughing thought that it
was the angel inveighed against the
| dullness of caution when the fool would
| have hestated.
Now, it was before the season of the
Alps, and the mountain aubergistes
were, for the most part not arrived
at their desolate hill taverns Nor were
| guides at all in evidence, being yet
engaged, the sturdy souls, over their
winter occupations. One, no doubt, we
could have procured had we wished it.
but we did not We should explore I'M
der the aegis of no cicerone but our
curiosity. That was native to US, if
the district was strange
| Following at first the Instructions of
Herr Baedeker, we travelled and
| climbed, chattering and singing as we
went, in the direction of the Monten-
vert, whence we were to descend upon
the Mer de Glace and enjoy the spec
tacle of a stupendous glacier
And that, L am convinced" said
Fidele, lis nothing more nor less than
one of those many windows that give
| light to the monsters of the under
earth"
Little imbecilel In some places this
window is six hundred feet thick"
''So?" she said. THAT is because
their dim eyes could not endure the
full light of the sum-
| We had brought a tin box of sand
witches with us; and this, with my
large pewter-fask full of wine, was
slung upon my back. For we had
been told that the Hotel du Montenvert
was yet closed, and sure enough, when
we reached it, the building stood black
in pool of snow, its shattered win
dows forlorn, and long icicles hanging
from the caves. The depression in
duced by this sight was momentary.
| We turned from it to the panorama
of majestic loveliness that stretched
below and around US. The glacier
that rolling sea of glass, descended
| from the enormous gates of the hills.
It's source was the white furnace of the
skies; its substance the crystal refuse
of the stars, and from it's margins the
splintered peaks stood up in a thous-
and forms Of beauty. Right and left,
in the hollows of the mountains, the
mist lay like ponds, opal and translu-
cent; and the shafts of the pine trees
standing in it looked like the reflections
of themselves 1t made the eyes ache,
this silence of greatness; and it became
relief to shift ones gaze to the reality
of ones near neighborhood-the grass
and the rhOdodendron bushes, and even
| the dull walls of the deserted auberge.
| A narrow path dipped over the hill
side and fled into the very jaws of the
moraine. Down the first of this path
we raced, hand in hand; but soon find
ing the impetus overmastering US, we
pulled up with difficulty and descended
the rest of the way circumspectly At
the foot of the steep slope we came up
on the little wooden hutch where, ordi-
narily, one, may procure a guide (also
rough socks to stretch over ones boots)
for the passage of the glacier Now,
| however, the shed was closed and ten
antleSS; and we must cen dispense
with a conductor should we adventure
further