University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER 12

Interlaken

My Dear Mother:

I am disappointed. I fully expected a letter from you today Ed tried to cheer me by saying tomorrow would bring a long one. I hope so.

We reached Bale about thirty minutes before the arrival of Tour No.--from Heidelberg. We were joyfully welcomed, and it was a delightful sensation to be "home again." At Berne a stop of thirty minutes afforded us a street car ride, and I found a moment to purchase a spoon. As to the city, I can only say it looked very prosperous, and the shops were inviting. When we returned to the station we found Mr. B. anxiously checking off his numerous charges. Our worthy professor and his wife came hurriedly just as the train started. This, we thought completed the number, but in a few moments we found that the two ladies from Massachusetts were not with us. The conjectures were many as to their behavior when they realized the situation, alone in a foreign land. Ed declared that we need not worry; they were daughters of the Pilgrim Fathers, and such a little adventure would only give them pleasure. Mr. B. assured us that they would be in Interlaken in thirty minutes after our arrival.

The first glimpses of the mountains were very fascinating, and as we penetrated farther and farther the view became more entrancing. The air is so invigorating, and the eye so pleased by all the surroundings that it is impossible not to be happy.

When we reached Interlaken we were in the very center of beauty; green fields, torrents, everlasting hills clothed in verdure, picturesque houses, and, above all, the shining, snowcapped mountains. We are up the side of a little hill, in the quaintest hotel, beneath whose many windows a mountain stream flows noisily. Ed declares from our window he can see the fish leaping the whirling waters. I think he has fish on the brain, for we did not cross a bridge in our walk about the village without stopping to learn over the side, and call, "See! There he is! What a whopper!" I looked carefully, and not even a little fish would jump for me. Ed can tell you the prices demanded for horses, the wages of coachmen, the usual fares, etc. You see, he decided to investigate a very fine livery stable, and after allowing him ample time to inspect the horses, I found it necessary to pretend faintness to get him away. He claimed he was in search of "local color." On the one principal street we found shops galore, filled with every imaginable kind of souvenir. How can the tourist escape? After dinner we again visited the shops, finding the busy throngs very interesting. Here all are pursuing pleasure, and the city has the air of a holiday. This evening I heard so many English voices and saw so many faces typically American that it was difficult to realize that this is Europe. Ed purchased souvenirs for the ladies' of my home club, dear little edelweiss pins. I am sure they will be pleased.

Shopping wearies me, and thus quiet early I was ready to return to the hotel. Ed is sleeping, with the noisy torrent as a lullaby, and I think it would be wise for me to follow his example. Mr. B. informed us that tomorrow would be spent in carriages, climbing the mountains to the glacier of Grindewald. I never know when to say good-night, dear mother. A talk with you is such a pleasure. I always think of "just one more thing." How I pity the children who have never known a mother's love. What a dreary place this old world would be without you.

July 17.--We have been favored with glorious weather; a brilliant sunshine, breezes blowing softly, like the balmy days of Indian summer. The carriages accommodated six passengers. The horses were noble animals, well fitted to draw such a load and to add to their comfort, and thus to ours. A little distance from the city boys appeared bearing monster bushes with which to keep off the mountain flies. The youngsters also carried blocks of wood, to place beneath a wheel when the driver wished to rest his team. We were seldom without a child toddling beside the carriage, urging us to purchase bits of lace. We only bought one little doily, as I did not care for the kind shown. We had our two young men and the " lost" ladies in the carriage with us. Ed asked the two ladies to accompany us, as he insisted that he deemed it necessary to "have an eye on ‘em." The company increased our enjoyment of the drive, as you know we like to share our enthusiasm. I wish I could paint you a word picture of that still, slow climb, the winding road, the echoes here and there, the sweet voices of children, the joyous laughter of care-free tourists, torrents tumbling down the mountains, green fields, gardens so steep that surely the plants dare not slumber lest they lose their foothold and fall far below, goats everywhere, beautiful Swiss cows with tinkling bells knee deep in the hillside grass; then, far above, the vast panorama of the snow crowned Alpine giants. Mother, our Rockies are so sombre in their limitless grandeur, the Alps are so intimate in their beauty. Our mountains tolerate us; here you are invited to rest and be happy. No long stretches of sage brush, of dust blown valleys. You do not cry aloud at the awful loneliness. Nature is kind, and has clothed her Alps in radiant garments. It is like this, Mother mine. Our Rockies have been alone so many aeons they do not need us. These Alps have so long cradled mankind they would be inconsolable without them. Which do I prefer? Truly I cannot say. I have Rocky mountain moods and Alpine moods, so I, like the little boy, "choose both."

It was the hour of noon when we clattered up the main street of the village of Grindewald. At the hotel selected by Mr. B. we descended from the carriages, and in a short while, with a guide, proceeded to walk to the glacier. The tiny path was so steep and the atmosphere so light I would have given up and sat by the wayside if Ed had not urged me onward. When we reached the entrance to the tunnel cut in the heart of the glacier for the benefit of tourists, I was glad I had persevered. The ever watchful Mr. B., before entering the cave, urged us to resume the wraps discarded in the climb. We were so grateful for his thoughtfulness when we retuned to the sun. At the very end, in a tiny chamber, we were greeted by a dear little Christmas tree. It is a pleasing climax, and I thought of the delight such a tunnel and then a tree would afford sister's boys. The descent was easily accomplished. Being told our path was over age-old ice, Ed declared he shared the sentiments of the people of Missouri, and hence he drew his knife and investigated. Beneath a layer of earth he found the ice. It was very warm, almost hot, and I could not suppress the wonder that the ice did not melt. Ed wished to take a trip in a basket high about the glacier. I saw many make the ascent, but I declined, having no desire to hang suspended by a thread between heaven and earth. An awkward waitress gave Ed's London suit a gravy bath at luncheon. The manager was apologetic, and the girl frightened, but alas! the glory of the suit, wherein he hoped to dazzle his Oklahoma friends, is forever dimmed.

The boys changed things a bit this afternoon, Mr. R. returning to Interlaken, the willing captive of a young lady of Tour No--, that he had met in Brussels. Mr. M. captured a pretty girl from the same tour and brought her to the city in our carriage. I know he hoped to occupy the high seat where he might whisper sweet nothings, but Ed and Miss C. were in possession when he arrived. I felt rather sorry for the young people, yet I was amused, they tried so hard not to appear disappointed. The afternoon drive was far more gorgeous than the morning, the western sun so longingly kissed the earth, and, as the hour of his departure drew nigh, he excelled himself, bathing the valleys in golden light, touching the snow-capped mountains with vivid crimson, rapidly giving to us a succession of impressions too beautiful to be real. Ed is sure this is his "promised land" and now he wishes to live here.

I was so weary from the exertions of the day that I determined to retire before dinner. After a rest of thirty minutes, I arose, dressed and was not only desirous of dining, but was ready to explore the city once more. There are so many Americans here, and, as elsewhere, they are too noisy, too loud voiced in their patriotism. I believe in loving your country, yet it is surely unnecessary to parade the flag of the United States and swagger as if the universe belonged to us, and it was only by our magnanimity other countries are permitted to exist. I regret to state, Mother, that women are the worst offenders in this manner. I often wish to exclaim, "For heaven's sweet sake, lower your voices; let your country and your state have a rest. There are others, you know."

Tomorrow we are off. Just think how we flit from place to place. Ed is in his element. I must confess that I would prefer my pleasures not so overwhelmingly rapid. Good night, and goodbye until we reach fair Lucerne.

Lovingly,

C.