Children's stories; Europe -- Juvenile fiction; Travel -- Juvenile fiction
but never more wonderfully than on that day. Long after the distant
peaks flamed in the ruddy light, they rode in shadow; but turning
suddenly round a corner, the sun came dazzling through a great gorge,
startling them with the splendour it brought.
Down went the carriage-top, and standing bolt upright, three pairs of
eager eyes drank in the grandeur and the beauty that makes the crossing
of the Simplon an experience to live for ever in the memory. Peak after
peak of the Bernese Oberland rose behind them, silver white against a
wonderful blue sky. Before them Monte Rosa, touched with the morning
red, and all around great glaciers glittering in the sunshine, awful
gorges with torrents thundering from the heights above, relics of
land-slides and avalanches still visible in uprooted trees, boulders
tumbled here and there, and ruins of shepherds' huts in solitary nooks
where sheep now feed.
The road crept in and out, over frail bridges, spanning chasms that made
one dizzy to look into, through tunnels of solid rock, or galleries with
windows over which poured waterfalls from the treacherous glaciers
above. This road is a miracle in itself, for all nature seems to protest
against it, and the elements never tire of trying to destroy it. Only a
Napoleon would have had the audacity to dream of such a path, and it is
truly a royal road into a lovely land.
Passing the diligences the little carriage went rapidly on, and soon
the three were almost alone. Out leaped Lavinia and Matilda, and walked
along the level way that curved round a great gorge.
'Go on and let me be. It is all so magnificent it almost takes my breath
away. I must just sit a minute, like a passive bucket, and let it pour
into me,' said Lavinia, in a solemn tone.
Mat understood; for her own heart and soul were full, and with a silent
kiss of sympathy, walked on, leaving her sister to enjoy that early mass
in a grander cathedral than any built with hands.
In spite of the sunshine it was very cold, and when the three met again
their noses looked like the eldest Miss Pecksniff's, 'as if Aurora had
nipped and tweaked it with her rosy fingers.' Subsiding into their
places with pale, excited faces, they went silently on for a long time,
with no sound but the chime of the bells on the horses who were covered
with a light hoar-frost. Wrapped up to their eyes, like Egyptian women,
sat Livy and Amanda; while Matilda, having tried to sketch Monte Rosa,
and given it up, made a capital caricature of them as they ate cold
chicken, and drank wine, in a primitive manner, out of the bottle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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