Chamouni becomes festiveWe would fain have rested that evening, but the edict went forth that festivities were to take place in honour of the ascent, and, to tell the truth, that evening was not the least fatiguing part of the whole affair. The opportunity was too good to be lost, especially as the customary mode of testifying[pg 230]congratulations by firing off divers podgy little cannons, had been omitted. Preparations were made for a display of fireworks on a large scale. Some six rockets of moderately soaring ambition were placed in order on the grass-plot in front of the hotel. A skilful pyrotechnist, who knew the right end to which to apply the match, was placed in charge, and fussed about a great deal. A very little table covered with a white cloth, and on which were displayed several bottles, reminded the crowd of loafers who assembled expectant as the darkness came on, that a carousal was meditated. At last the word was given, and the pyrotechnist, beaming with pride, advanced bearing a lighted taper attached to the end of a stick of judicious length. A hush of expectancy followed, and experienced persons retired to sheltered corners. The fireworks behaved as they usually do. They fizzed prodigiously, and went off in the most unexpected directions. One rocket, rather weak in the waist, described, after a little preliminary spluttering, an exceedingly sharp, corkscrew-like series of curves, and then turned head-over-heels with astounding rapidity on the lawn, like a rabbit shot through the head, and there lay flat, spluttering out its gunpowdery vitals. Another was perfectly unmoved at the initial application of the kindling flame, but then suddenly began to swell up in an alarming way, causing the pyrotechnist, who had no previous experience of this[pg 231]phenomenon, to retreat somewhat hastily. However, one of the rockets rose to a height of some five-and-twenty feet, much to the operator’s satisfaction, and we were all able to congratulate him warmly on his contribution to our entertainment as we emerged from our places of security.Organising the ballA series of smaller explosions, resulting from the drawing of corks, was the next item in the programme, and appeared to give more general satisfaction. Then the bell rang, and the master of the ceremonies announced that the ball was about to commence. Some over-zealous person had unfortunately sought to improve the condition of the floor for dancing, by tracing an arabesque pattern on the boards with water, using for the purpose a tin pot with a convenient leak at the bottom. It followed that the exercise of waltzing in thick boots was more laborious than graceful. Without, the villagers crowded at the windows to gaze upon our fantastic gyrations. But little formality had been observed in organising the ball; in fact, the ceremony of issuing cards of invitation had been replaced by ringing a bell and displaying a placard on which it was announced that the dance would commence at nine o’clock. However, the enjoyment appeared to be none the less keen, for all that the dancers were breathing fairly pure air, taking no champagne, and not fulfilling any social duty. But for the costumes the gathering might[pg 232]have been mistaken for a fashionable entertainment. All the recognised types to be met with in a London ball-room were there. The conversation, judging from the fragments overheard, did not appear to be below the average standard of intellectuality. The ladies, who came from the various hotels of Chamouni, displayed, as most English girls do—pacethe jealous criticism of certain French writers, more smart than observant—their curious faculty of improvising ball costume exactly suitable to the occasion. There was a young man who had a pair of white gloves, and was looked upon with awe in consequence, and who, in the intervals of the dances, slid about in an elegant manner instead of walking. There was a middle-aged person of energetic temperament who skipped and hopped like the little hills, and kept everything going—including the refreshments. There was a captious and cynical person, who frowned horribly, and sat in a corner in the verandah with an altogether superior air, and who, in support of the character, smoked a cigar of uncertain botanical pedigree provided by the hotel, which disagreed with him and increased his splenetic mood. Elsewhere, at more fashionable gatherings, he would have leaned against doorposts, cultivated a dejected demeanour, and got very much in other people’s way. There was a pianist who was a very clever artist, and found out at once the notes that yielded no response on the instrument, and who, like his more fashionable[pg 233]analogue, regularly required stimulants after playing a waltz. It mattered little what he played—polka, waltz, galop, or mazurka—whatever the tune, the couples all rotated more or less slowly about; so it was evidently an English gathering. At such impromptu dances there is always a strong desire to show off musical talent. No sooner did the hireling pianist desist than a little cluster gathered around the instrument, assured him that he must be tired, and volunteered to play. Finally he was induced to rest, and a young lady who knew“Rousseau’s Dream,”or some tune very like it, triumphantly seated herself and favoured the company with that air in waltz time, whereat the unsuccessful candidates for the seat smiled scornfully at each other, and rolled up their eyes, and would not dance. So they, in turn, triumphed, and the young lady blushed, and said she had never seen such a stupid set of people, and went away and sat by her parents, and thought the world was indeed hollow. The hireling came back, and all went on merrily again.Chamouni dancesIn the yard outside the crowd increased. In the midst of the throng could be seen Maurer, resplendent in a shirt the front of which was like unto a petrified bath-towel, wearing a coat many sizes too large, his face beaming with smiles and shining from the effects of drinks offered in the spirit of good fellowship on all sides. Close by stood Burgener, displaying similar physiognomical phenomena, his natural free[pg 234]movements hampered by the excessive tightness of some garments with which an admirer of smaller girth had presented him. Let us do justice to the guides of Chamouni, who might not unnaturally have found some cause for disappointment that the peak had been captured by strangers in the land. On this occasion, at any rate, they offered the hand of good fellowship, and listened with admiring attention while our guides, in an unknown tongue, expatiated on the difficulties and dangers they had successfully overcome—difficulties which did not appear to become less by frequent repetition. Let us leave them there. They did their work thoroughly well, and might be pardoned, under all the circumstances, for a little swagger.The scene closes inThe days grow shorter apace. The sun has barely time to make the ice peaks glisten, ere the cold shadows creep over again. Snow lies thick on ledge and cranny, and only the steepest mountain faces show dark through the powdery veil. Bleak night winds whistle around the beetling crags and whirl and chevy the wreathing snow-clouds, making weird music in these desolate fastnesses, while the glaciers and snow-fields collect fresh strength against the time when their relentless destroyer shall attack them once again at an advantage. The scene is changed. The clear air, the delicate purity of the Alpine tints are but recollections, and have given way to fog, mist,[pg 235]slush, and smoke-laden atmosphere. Would you recall these mountain pictures? Draw close the curtains, stir the coals into an indignant crackling blaze, and fashion, in the rising smoke, the mountain vista. How easy it is to unlock the storehouse of the mind where these images are stowed away! how these scenes crowd back into the mind! What keener charm than to pass in review the memories of these simple, wholesome pleasures; to see again, as clear as in the reality, every ledge, every hand and foot-hold; to feel the fingers tingle and the muscles instinctively contract at the recollection of some tough scramble on rock or glacier? The pleasures of the Alps endure long after the actual experience, and are but invested; whether the interest can be derived by any one but the actual investor is a matter for others to decide. For my own part, I can only wish that any one could possibly derive a hundredth part of the pleasure in reading, that I have had in writing, of our adventures.
Chamouni becomes festiveWe would fain have rested that evening, but the edict went forth that festivities were to take place in honour of the ascent, and, to tell the truth, that evening was not the least fatiguing part of the whole affair. The opportunity was too good to be lost, especially as the customary mode of testifying[pg 230]congratulations by firing off divers podgy little cannons, had been omitted. Preparations were made for a display of fireworks on a large scale. Some six rockets of moderately soaring ambition were placed in order on the grass-plot in front of the hotel. A skilful pyrotechnist, who knew the right end to which to apply the match, was placed in charge, and fussed about a great deal. A very little table covered with a white cloth, and on which were displayed several bottles, reminded the crowd of loafers who assembled expectant as the darkness came on, that a carousal was meditated. At last the word was given, and the pyrotechnist, beaming with pride, advanced bearing a lighted taper attached to the end of a stick of judicious length. A hush of expectancy followed, and experienced persons retired to sheltered corners. The fireworks behaved as they usually do. They fizzed prodigiously, and went off in the most unexpected directions. One rocket, rather weak in the waist, described, after a little preliminary spluttering, an exceedingly sharp, corkscrew-like series of curves, and then turned head-over-heels with astounding rapidity on the lawn, like a rabbit shot through the head, and there lay flat, spluttering out its gunpowdery vitals. Another was perfectly unmoved at the initial application of the kindling flame, but then suddenly began to swell up in an alarming way, causing the pyrotechnist, who had no previous experience of this[pg 231]phenomenon, to retreat somewhat hastily. However, one of the rockets rose to a height of some five-and-twenty feet, much to the operator’s satisfaction, and we were all able to congratulate him warmly on his contribution to our entertainment as we emerged from our places of security.Organising the ballA series of smaller explosions, resulting from the drawing of corks, was the next item in the programme, and appeared to give more general satisfaction. Then the bell rang, and the master of the ceremonies announced that the ball was about to commence. Some over-zealous person had unfortunately sought to improve the condition of the floor for dancing, by tracing an arabesque pattern on the boards with water, using for the purpose a tin pot with a convenient leak at the bottom. It followed that the exercise of waltzing in thick boots was more laborious than graceful. Without, the villagers crowded at the windows to gaze upon our fantastic gyrations. But little formality had been observed in organising the ball; in fact, the ceremony of issuing cards of invitation had been replaced by ringing a bell and displaying a placard on which it was announced that the dance would commence at nine o’clock. However, the enjoyment appeared to be none the less keen, for all that the dancers were breathing fairly pure air, taking no champagne, and not fulfilling any social duty. But for the costumes the gathering might[pg 232]have been mistaken for a fashionable entertainment. All the recognised types to be met with in a London ball-room were there. The conversation, judging from the fragments overheard, did not appear to be below the average standard of intellectuality. The ladies, who came from the various hotels of Chamouni, displayed, as most English girls do—pacethe jealous criticism of certain French writers, more smart than observant—their curious faculty of improvising ball costume exactly suitable to the occasion. There was a young man who had a pair of white gloves, and was looked upon with awe in consequence, and who, in the intervals of the dances, slid about in an elegant manner instead of walking. There was a middle-aged person of energetic temperament who skipped and hopped like the little hills, and kept everything going—including the refreshments. There was a captious and cynical person, who frowned horribly, and sat in a corner in the verandah with an altogether superior air, and who, in support of the character, smoked a cigar of uncertain botanical pedigree provided by the hotel, which disagreed with him and increased his splenetic mood. Elsewhere, at more fashionable gatherings, he would have leaned against doorposts, cultivated a dejected demeanour, and got very much in other people’s way. There was a pianist who was a very clever artist, and found out at once the notes that yielded no response on the instrument, and who, like his more fashionable[pg 233]analogue, regularly required stimulants after playing a waltz. It mattered little what he played—polka, waltz, galop, or mazurka—whatever the tune, the couples all rotated more or less slowly about; so it was evidently an English gathering. At such impromptu dances there is always a strong desire to show off musical talent. No sooner did the hireling pianist desist than a little cluster gathered around the instrument, assured him that he must be tired, and volunteered to play. Finally he was induced to rest, and a young lady who knew“Rousseau’s Dream,”or some tune very like it, triumphantly seated herself and favoured the company with that air in waltz time, whereat the unsuccessful candidates for the seat smiled scornfully at each other, and rolled up their eyes, and would not dance. So they, in turn, triumphed, and the young lady blushed, and said she had never seen such a stupid set of people, and went away and sat by her parents, and thought the world was indeed hollow. The hireling came back, and all went on merrily again.Chamouni dancesIn the yard outside the crowd increased. In the midst of the throng could be seen Maurer, resplendent in a shirt the front of which was like unto a petrified bath-towel, wearing a coat many sizes too large, his face beaming with smiles and shining from the effects of drinks offered in the spirit of good fellowship on all sides. Close by stood Burgener, displaying similar physiognomical phenomena, his natural free[pg 234]movements hampered by the excessive tightness of some garments with which an admirer of smaller girth had presented him. Let us do justice to the guides of Chamouni, who might not unnaturally have found some cause for disappointment that the peak had been captured by strangers in the land. On this occasion, at any rate, they offered the hand of good fellowship, and listened with admiring attention while our guides, in an unknown tongue, expatiated on the difficulties and dangers they had successfully overcome—difficulties which did not appear to become less by frequent repetition. Let us leave them there. They did their work thoroughly well, and might be pardoned, under all the circumstances, for a little swagger.The scene closes inThe days grow shorter apace. The sun has barely time to make the ice peaks glisten, ere the cold shadows creep over again. Snow lies thick on ledge and cranny, and only the steepest mountain faces show dark through the powdery veil. Bleak night winds whistle around the beetling crags and whirl and chevy the wreathing snow-clouds, making weird music in these desolate fastnesses, while the glaciers and snow-fields collect fresh strength against the time when their relentless destroyer shall attack them once again at an advantage. The scene is changed. The clear air, the delicate purity of the Alpine tints are but recollections, and have given way to fog, mist,[pg 235]slush, and smoke-laden atmosphere. Would you recall these mountain pictures? Draw close the curtains, stir the coals into an indignant crackling blaze, and fashion, in the rising smoke, the mountain vista. How easy it is to unlock the storehouse of the mind where these images are stowed away! how these scenes crowd back into the mind! What keener charm than to pass in review the memories of these simple, wholesome pleasures; to see again, as clear as in the reality, every ledge, every hand and foot-hold; to feel the fingers tingle and the muscles instinctively contract at the recollection of some tough scramble on rock or glacier? The pleasures of the Alps endure long after the actual experience, and are but invested; whether the interest can be derived by any one but the actual investor is a matter for others to decide. For my own part, I can only wish that any one could possibly derive a hundredth part of the pleasure in reading, that I have had in writing, of our adventures.
Chamouni becomes festiveWe would fain have rested that evening, but the edict went forth that festivities were to take place in honour of the ascent, and, to tell the truth, that evening was not the least fatiguing part of the whole affair. The opportunity was too good to be lost, especially as the customary mode of testifying[pg 230]congratulations by firing off divers podgy little cannons, had been omitted. Preparations were made for a display of fireworks on a large scale. Some six rockets of moderately soaring ambition were placed in order on the grass-plot in front of the hotel. A skilful pyrotechnist, who knew the right end to which to apply the match, was placed in charge, and fussed about a great deal. A very little table covered with a white cloth, and on which were displayed several bottles, reminded the crowd of loafers who assembled expectant as the darkness came on, that a carousal was meditated. At last the word was given, and the pyrotechnist, beaming with pride, advanced bearing a lighted taper attached to the end of a stick of judicious length. A hush of expectancy followed, and experienced persons retired to sheltered corners. The fireworks behaved as they usually do. They fizzed prodigiously, and went off in the most unexpected directions. One rocket, rather weak in the waist, described, after a little preliminary spluttering, an exceedingly sharp, corkscrew-like series of curves, and then turned head-over-heels with astounding rapidity on the lawn, like a rabbit shot through the head, and there lay flat, spluttering out its gunpowdery vitals. Another was perfectly unmoved at the initial application of the kindling flame, but then suddenly began to swell up in an alarming way, causing the pyrotechnist, who had no previous experience of this[pg 231]phenomenon, to retreat somewhat hastily. However, one of the rockets rose to a height of some five-and-twenty feet, much to the operator’s satisfaction, and we were all able to congratulate him warmly on his contribution to our entertainment as we emerged from our places of security.Organising the ballA series of smaller explosions, resulting from the drawing of corks, was the next item in the programme, and appeared to give more general satisfaction. Then the bell rang, and the master of the ceremonies announced that the ball was about to commence. Some over-zealous person had unfortunately sought to improve the condition of the floor for dancing, by tracing an arabesque pattern on the boards with water, using for the purpose a tin pot with a convenient leak at the bottom. It followed that the exercise of waltzing in thick boots was more laborious than graceful. Without, the villagers crowded at the windows to gaze upon our fantastic gyrations. But little formality had been observed in organising the ball; in fact, the ceremony of issuing cards of invitation had been replaced by ringing a bell and displaying a placard on which it was announced that the dance would commence at nine o’clock. However, the enjoyment appeared to be none the less keen, for all that the dancers were breathing fairly pure air, taking no champagne, and not fulfilling any social duty. But for the costumes the gathering might[pg 232]have been mistaken for a fashionable entertainment. All the recognised types to be met with in a London ball-room were there. The conversation, judging from the fragments overheard, did not appear to be below the average standard of intellectuality. The ladies, who came from the various hotels of Chamouni, displayed, as most English girls do—pacethe jealous criticism of certain French writers, more smart than observant—their curious faculty of improvising ball costume exactly suitable to the occasion. There was a young man who had a pair of white gloves, and was looked upon with awe in consequence, and who, in the intervals of the dances, slid about in an elegant manner instead of walking. There was a middle-aged person of energetic temperament who skipped and hopped like the little hills, and kept everything going—including the refreshments. There was a captious and cynical person, who frowned horribly, and sat in a corner in the verandah with an altogether superior air, and who, in support of the character, smoked a cigar of uncertain botanical pedigree provided by the hotel, which disagreed with him and increased his splenetic mood. Elsewhere, at more fashionable gatherings, he would have leaned against doorposts, cultivated a dejected demeanour, and got very much in other people’s way. There was a pianist who was a very clever artist, and found out at once the notes that yielded no response on the instrument, and who, like his more fashionable[pg 233]analogue, regularly required stimulants after playing a waltz. It mattered little what he played—polka, waltz, galop, or mazurka—whatever the tune, the couples all rotated more or less slowly about; so it was evidently an English gathering. At such impromptu dances there is always a strong desire to show off musical talent. No sooner did the hireling pianist desist than a little cluster gathered around the instrument, assured him that he must be tired, and volunteered to play. Finally he was induced to rest, and a young lady who knew“Rousseau’s Dream,”or some tune very like it, triumphantly seated herself and favoured the company with that air in waltz time, whereat the unsuccessful candidates for the seat smiled scornfully at each other, and rolled up their eyes, and would not dance. So they, in turn, triumphed, and the young lady blushed, and said she had never seen such a stupid set of people, and went away and sat by her parents, and thought the world was indeed hollow. The hireling came back, and all went on merrily again.Chamouni dancesIn the yard outside the crowd increased. In the midst of the throng could be seen Maurer, resplendent in a shirt the front of which was like unto a petrified bath-towel, wearing a coat many sizes too large, his face beaming with smiles and shining from the effects of drinks offered in the spirit of good fellowship on all sides. Close by stood Burgener, displaying similar physiognomical phenomena, his natural free[pg 234]movements hampered by the excessive tightness of some garments with which an admirer of smaller girth had presented him. Let us do justice to the guides of Chamouni, who might not unnaturally have found some cause for disappointment that the peak had been captured by strangers in the land. On this occasion, at any rate, they offered the hand of good fellowship, and listened with admiring attention while our guides, in an unknown tongue, expatiated on the difficulties and dangers they had successfully overcome—difficulties which did not appear to become less by frequent repetition. Let us leave them there. They did their work thoroughly well, and might be pardoned, under all the circumstances, for a little swagger.The scene closes inThe days grow shorter apace. The sun has barely time to make the ice peaks glisten, ere the cold shadows creep over again. Snow lies thick on ledge and cranny, and only the steepest mountain faces show dark through the powdery veil. Bleak night winds whistle around the beetling crags and whirl and chevy the wreathing snow-clouds, making weird music in these desolate fastnesses, while the glaciers and snow-fields collect fresh strength against the time when their relentless destroyer shall attack them once again at an advantage. The scene is changed. The clear air, the delicate purity of the Alpine tints are but recollections, and have given way to fog, mist,[pg 235]slush, and smoke-laden atmosphere. Would you recall these mountain pictures? Draw close the curtains, stir the coals into an indignant crackling blaze, and fashion, in the rising smoke, the mountain vista. How easy it is to unlock the storehouse of the mind where these images are stowed away! how these scenes crowd back into the mind! What keener charm than to pass in review the memories of these simple, wholesome pleasures; to see again, as clear as in the reality, every ledge, every hand and foot-hold; to feel the fingers tingle and the muscles instinctively contract at the recollection of some tough scramble on rock or glacier? The pleasures of the Alps endure long after the actual experience, and are but invested; whether the interest can be derived by any one but the actual investor is a matter for others to decide. For my own part, I can only wish that any one could possibly derive a hundredth part of the pleasure in reading, that I have had in writing, of our adventures.
Chamouni becomes festive
Chamouni becomes festive
We would fain have rested that evening, but the edict went forth that festivities were to take place in honour of the ascent, and, to tell the truth, that evening was not the least fatiguing part of the whole affair. The opportunity was too good to be lost, especially as the customary mode of testifying[pg 230]congratulations by firing off divers podgy little cannons, had been omitted. Preparations were made for a display of fireworks on a large scale. Some six rockets of moderately soaring ambition were placed in order on the grass-plot in front of the hotel. A skilful pyrotechnist, who knew the right end to which to apply the match, was placed in charge, and fussed about a great deal. A very little table covered with a white cloth, and on which were displayed several bottles, reminded the crowd of loafers who assembled expectant as the darkness came on, that a carousal was meditated. At last the word was given, and the pyrotechnist, beaming with pride, advanced bearing a lighted taper attached to the end of a stick of judicious length. A hush of expectancy followed, and experienced persons retired to sheltered corners. The fireworks behaved as they usually do. They fizzed prodigiously, and went off in the most unexpected directions. One rocket, rather weak in the waist, described, after a little preliminary spluttering, an exceedingly sharp, corkscrew-like series of curves, and then turned head-over-heels with astounding rapidity on the lawn, like a rabbit shot through the head, and there lay flat, spluttering out its gunpowdery vitals. Another was perfectly unmoved at the initial application of the kindling flame, but then suddenly began to swell up in an alarming way, causing the pyrotechnist, who had no previous experience of this[pg 231]phenomenon, to retreat somewhat hastily. However, one of the rockets rose to a height of some five-and-twenty feet, much to the operator’s satisfaction, and we were all able to congratulate him warmly on his contribution to our entertainment as we emerged from our places of security.
Organising the ball
Organising the ball
A series of smaller explosions, resulting from the drawing of corks, was the next item in the programme, and appeared to give more general satisfaction. Then the bell rang, and the master of the ceremonies announced that the ball was about to commence. Some over-zealous person had unfortunately sought to improve the condition of the floor for dancing, by tracing an arabesque pattern on the boards with water, using for the purpose a tin pot with a convenient leak at the bottom. It followed that the exercise of waltzing in thick boots was more laborious than graceful. Without, the villagers crowded at the windows to gaze upon our fantastic gyrations. But little formality had been observed in organising the ball; in fact, the ceremony of issuing cards of invitation had been replaced by ringing a bell and displaying a placard on which it was announced that the dance would commence at nine o’clock. However, the enjoyment appeared to be none the less keen, for all that the dancers were breathing fairly pure air, taking no champagne, and not fulfilling any social duty. But for the costumes the gathering might[pg 232]have been mistaken for a fashionable entertainment. All the recognised types to be met with in a London ball-room were there. The conversation, judging from the fragments overheard, did not appear to be below the average standard of intellectuality. The ladies, who came from the various hotels of Chamouni, displayed, as most English girls do—pacethe jealous criticism of certain French writers, more smart than observant—their curious faculty of improvising ball costume exactly suitable to the occasion. There was a young man who had a pair of white gloves, and was looked upon with awe in consequence, and who, in the intervals of the dances, slid about in an elegant manner instead of walking. There was a middle-aged person of energetic temperament who skipped and hopped like the little hills, and kept everything going—including the refreshments. There was a captious and cynical person, who frowned horribly, and sat in a corner in the verandah with an altogether superior air, and who, in support of the character, smoked a cigar of uncertain botanical pedigree provided by the hotel, which disagreed with him and increased his splenetic mood. Elsewhere, at more fashionable gatherings, he would have leaned against doorposts, cultivated a dejected demeanour, and got very much in other people’s way. There was a pianist who was a very clever artist, and found out at once the notes that yielded no response on the instrument, and who, like his more fashionable[pg 233]analogue, regularly required stimulants after playing a waltz. It mattered little what he played—polka, waltz, galop, or mazurka—whatever the tune, the couples all rotated more or less slowly about; so it was evidently an English gathering. At such impromptu dances there is always a strong desire to show off musical talent. No sooner did the hireling pianist desist than a little cluster gathered around the instrument, assured him that he must be tired, and volunteered to play. Finally he was induced to rest, and a young lady who knew“Rousseau’s Dream,”or some tune very like it, triumphantly seated herself and favoured the company with that air in waltz time, whereat the unsuccessful candidates for the seat smiled scornfully at each other, and rolled up their eyes, and would not dance. So they, in turn, triumphed, and the young lady blushed, and said she had never seen such a stupid set of people, and went away and sat by her parents, and thought the world was indeed hollow. The hireling came back, and all went on merrily again.
Chamouni dances
Chamouni dances
In the yard outside the crowd increased. In the midst of the throng could be seen Maurer, resplendent in a shirt the front of which was like unto a petrified bath-towel, wearing a coat many sizes too large, his face beaming with smiles and shining from the effects of drinks offered in the spirit of good fellowship on all sides. Close by stood Burgener, displaying similar physiognomical phenomena, his natural free[pg 234]movements hampered by the excessive tightness of some garments with which an admirer of smaller girth had presented him. Let us do justice to the guides of Chamouni, who might not unnaturally have found some cause for disappointment that the peak had been captured by strangers in the land. On this occasion, at any rate, they offered the hand of good fellowship, and listened with admiring attention while our guides, in an unknown tongue, expatiated on the difficulties and dangers they had successfully overcome—difficulties which did not appear to become less by frequent repetition. Let us leave them there. They did their work thoroughly well, and might be pardoned, under all the circumstances, for a little swagger.
The scene closes in
The scene closes in
The days grow shorter apace. The sun has barely time to make the ice peaks glisten, ere the cold shadows creep over again. Snow lies thick on ledge and cranny, and only the steepest mountain faces show dark through the powdery veil. Bleak night winds whistle around the beetling crags and whirl and chevy the wreathing snow-clouds, making weird music in these desolate fastnesses, while the glaciers and snow-fields collect fresh strength against the time when their relentless destroyer shall attack them once again at an advantage. The scene is changed. The clear air, the delicate purity of the Alpine tints are but recollections, and have given way to fog, mist,[pg 235]slush, and smoke-laden atmosphere. Would you recall these mountain pictures? Draw close the curtains, stir the coals into an indignant crackling blaze, and fashion, in the rising smoke, the mountain vista. How easy it is to unlock the storehouse of the mind where these images are stowed away! how these scenes crowd back into the mind! What keener charm than to pass in review the memories of these simple, wholesome pleasures; to see again, as clear as in the reality, every ledge, every hand and foot-hold; to feel the fingers tingle and the muscles instinctively contract at the recollection of some tough scramble on rock or glacier? The pleasures of the Alps endure long after the actual experience, and are but invested; whether the interest can be derived by any one but the actual investor is a matter for others to decide. For my own part, I can only wish that any one could possibly derive a hundredth part of the pleasure in reading, that I have had in writing, of our adventures.