The Irish standard., 1904-12-17
Laughter
Amid Tears
By MARGARET ]. GATES

HE car was almost due at the sum-
i NIT of the Gornergrat. The chill
air from the glacier fields pressed a
stimulating finger on the pulses. The
ice of the surrounding glaciers was dull
green and deep.
The Little Traveller, wound to the
meek in thick plaid shawl, stood wait
ing with her aunt. They were going
down on the last car which made the
trip that day. They had wished to spend
the night on the top, for Elizabeth. the
sc'o.ain of this brief summer outing,
but to siye Re crte:s and Die
. :te obeyeS lie soldier.
Vt, alas, ~ .-.~.-t. VS. iac!irg.
: y had added o:.ce ana again the col
ssmls in their account book, and the
result came ever the same, with the
tiresome inflexibility of mathematics.
The two hungry sightseers were at last
enjoying Switzerland after months of
longing. But their rule must be kept
so many marks a day, and prices at the
dip-top houses have all the rarity of
nhe altitude where they flourish. So
this pleasure must be given up.
For once l am almost satisfied"
sighed Elizabeth. 1T would be too
glorious to see sunrise here, too. We
must be content with our half-loaf."
The electric car came slowly creeping
up the steel way, bringing noise, dis
dnrbing element, taste of modern i'm
proyement, into these silent heights.
Elizabeths green touring. hat bore
puff of feathers on a quivering wire.
Each time they trembled, if you cared
aDr Elizabeth you must look to see il
she, too, trembled. "One look, dear
aunt, one long look to fix this picture
" my mind. How dull the four walls
Sd the sewing will be after this feast
ice and snow. Just see how clear the
is, and how near the other peaks
\ )k. | am going to that rock to look
a1' the Matterhorn. There is time to
spare. The car is not pyet, and it waits
before going down again. Come"
The rose color OF the afterslow on
snowy SUBMITS deties the common
sense. Even the solid fields of white
slipping down the channels between
soaring peaks, these have chilled
Borcery OF their own. Imprint the scene
on your mind, Elizabeth. 1t will always
stay. 1t is, as you say so hauntingly
beautiful and remote.
The dependence, the finteness of
daily life is the chain by which the spir-
itnal delights must be confined. And no
Joy is sufficient to itself, even observa-
Of No
little Swiss watch, a delicate toy, the
Drlce OF which had shortened the pleas
gre trip two weeks, the watch pinned
con Elizabeth's breast, continued tick
Ing and ticking, leading time captive,
and leading Elizabeth and her aunt from
Hbe rock with its mighty outlook back 20
the little station. The car stood ready
dor the descent, with perhaps a 80 Sec
onds to spare.
The morning of the same day George
aNerner, young student, had arrived
sat Zermatt. His face was long by ma
uure. and now it was long from fatigue
and what else? Perhaps it was fatigue
alone. He was always jolly in con-
Tersatlon, therefore he must be ALWAYS
happy. A smile came quickly to his
face when he met friend. When left
asnne it died quickly away. But always
his interest in others was there.
Young blood must flow little faster
ut seeing the noble view which is the
hearts desire. George had dreamed Of
this hour, and now as he sat on the
ascending car, here was reality. His
reddish hair blew back from his tenn
pies, white from the confinement of
study.
4 The summer was almost past, but near
Xhe summit there were no plants to
mark the change of season by their
brighter colorng. The stony bed of the
NEW steel way was hardly adjusted, and
aharrenness ruled under foot.
. but raise your eyes, George There
stand the monarchs of Switzerland.
The nyes must be kept always open. He
Exnows this, for when the lids shut quiet
lily lss sees many far-away things.
Though the scenes shift, in each one
lis q figure buoyant with life and some
times wearing a plaid shawl and an AL
pine hat which shades the blue eyes be-
meath. In fact. the familiar eyes are
sAD shaded that when George looks into
tfneim the vision always fades; he opens
This own eyes and signs himself back into
tthe present moment.
Life would be quite another thing il