University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER 13

Lucerne

My Mother:

Where is my letter? Why do you not write every day?

We left Interlaken by steamer to Brienz; thence by rail to Meiringen; then over the Brunig Pass to Lucerne. Mother I was so ill on the horrid boat that when we changed to the puffing little train I felt like hugging the engine. The trip should have been one of exceptional beauty, but Providence was unkind; the rain came, obscuring all things. We reached Lucerne at noon hour, and although the rain was falling forlornly, we decided to follow the program, visit the points of interest this afternoon, and thus have Sunday truly our own. Clad in short skirts and rubbers we braved the weather. When I stood before the Lion of Lucerne[1] I exclaimed that to view it was worth the facing of an Oklahoma cyclone. Could I say more, indicative of my appreciation? The glacial gardens are a kind of pleasure ground, containing several places of amusement and many things of interest. The glacial pots, with rapidly whirling rocks, gave Ed much satisfaction, and in one mysterious dark cave he boldly seized the gyrating rock to discover how it worked. The lion was my delight, I loved him so I could hardly tear myself away. How I wanted him for my own!

After leaving the gardens we walked across the ancient covered bridges, inspecting their queer pictures. My me! The olden days were strange days and tastes were odd. Think of always passing to and fro over a bridge bedecked with startling views of the vagaries of death. We located the cathedral, with the monster organ, and tomorrow we attend mass there at nine-thirty. By this hour Mr. B. had left us to our own devices, and the rain coming in such torrents, we decided to see a few shops. We found them filled with beautiful embroideries and also crowded by tourists. You know how I declared that this American would not visit the stores. Well, dear, I am sure Ed is not permitting me to miss many. He calls shopping his recreation after so much history. Truly, I believe he frequents them to chat with the clerks and see the beautiful women who throng the aisles.

We have an elegant room on the second floor, with a balcony, and oh, so many mirrors. Ed declares he will not be able to exist any more without mirrors to see himself "all ways at once." He never before realized he was such a fine looking man. The room assigned us was tucked away off upstairs. My lord would not permit me to seek it by elevator or stairway, declaring that a second floor room must be given us. How he manages without paying any extra charge I know not, yet always the man in control yields, and we are comfortably located according to Ed's desires. For some reason our party was divided here, half at this hotel, half at another. We are so sorry. "The family" are all so charming, we can ill spare one. Mr. B. is with us, hence we feel that we have a distinct advantage. The rain has not abated; I am inclined to think it will continue for forty days and nights. We have not left the hotel since dinner. The streets are not alluring in their wet state, and the storm is too electrical for pleasure. I shall retire early and try to sleep ten hours, so until tomorrow, good night, sweet Mother.

Sunday--Raining, raining! The heavens frowning with disdain, caring little for our disappointment. We toiled through the storm to the cathedral at nine-thirty, listened to a long sermon in French. I trust Ed's soul was benefited thereby. As I could not comprehend a word and my skirts were far from dry, I sat there in a very uncomfortable state. At last it ended and the great organ pealed forth in the music of a magnificent Mass. I could not pray, so I folded my hands and whispered, "Dear Lord, do please consider this rapture a prayer of praise." I forgot the rain, my wet garments, all my little woes, and ascended right to the gates of paradise.

Sunday is not a day of absolute rest in Lucerne. Many of the shops were open, but the rain was so wet we did not linger, too eager to reach the hotel and dry shoes. We spent the day in visiting with the members of the party, recalling past pleasures and anticipating the future. I confess to several waves of homesickness.

The ocean looms so formidable on such a stormy day, and my heart cries out for you.

Our hostess is a remarkably handsome woman, with a wonderful figure, so tall and willowy. She said her brother resided in the Indian Territory, U.S.A., but seemed to think the name of a town a superfluity; persisted in saying, " surely you know him, such a little place is the Indian Territory." The hotel is filled to overflowing, the parlors are utilized as bedrooms. We are quite near to the barracks and this appears a favorite place for the soldiers to dine. Today a dinner was served quite a number of them in the private dining room. Many ladies were of the party, and the merriment was prolonged and hearty. It is very cold this evening, I am wrapped in a feather quilt, and even then am cold. Is it possible that you are struggling to keep cool in our far-off home? There is a strange little porcelain stove concealed in a hole in the wall of this room, and I am tempted to request a fire. Ed has retired beneath an avalanche of feathers. I have, until tonight, persuaded him to use only the blanket provided. I am sure to be awakened by a fearful tumult. As I know he will dream horribly beneath such warm coverings. We lose two of the party here, the Misses--. They go directly to Paris to select a trousseau for the younger sister, and then home and a wedding.

You will pardon me, dear heart, for leaving you so early. This has been an uneventful day, yet I am so cold if I had the most interesting news to chronicle I could not do it with the smallest degree of comfort. If the rain would cease, and the good old sun shine out.

Goodnight--goodnight.

Monday.--First by boat, then by rail, to the summit of Mount Rigi, on the stormiest day we have encountered. The wind blew in great gusts, the rain came in vast sheets, and the vivid flashes of lightning made me sit very near to my dearest. All the beauties of nature were hidden by the dense rain and thus we have missed some of the most magnificent views in Switzerland. Mr. B. brought us out to be happy, and we determined to be happy, so we beguiled the hours with laughter and song. "How Dry I Am," was a favorite ditty, and "the Old Folks at Home," second choice. There are several good voices in the party, and Miss L., of New York, is a most obliging leader, always ready to warble, tell stories or join in a laugh.

When the station at the summit was attained it surely required courage to face the storm and thus reach the hostelry many steps above us. We were sadly buffeted by the wind and drenched by the rain ere we entered its hospitable doors. We were huddled about a monster porcelain stove, half frozen this July day when Mrs.--created a diversion by fainting, and in our solicitude for her welfare we forgot our discomfort. I am glad to state she soon recovered and was quite able to enjoy the excellent lunch served. The question how to make the hours pass pleasantly was quickly settled, an excellent floor and a piano suggested dancing. In a short while all who could were "tripping the light fantastic."

Your son could not dance because of the altitude. He tried courageously, but his breathing was so labored I begged him to desist. I did not notice the change, except a slight sensation of fullness in my ears. When one by one the dancers dropped exhausted, we gathered around the great stove, told stories, and persuaded the young lady from Australia to read our palms. I think, mother, you would like Miss B. I am greatly interested in her, more so because she can ill conceal her dislike of Americans. I must become better acquainted with her and learn of her country.

The return to Lucerne was accomplished without accident, but not a glimpse of the far-famed scenery was afforded us. Ed purchased thirty-seven Edelweiss flowers for one franc on the summit of Rigi. I was so afraid he would lose them I determined to carry them myself, and thereby hangs a tale. When we left the boat at Lucerne we hurried to the cathedral, as it was the hour of the organ recital, tickets one franc-fifty. We seated ourselves well to the front and I went without delay to paradise. How I dreamed, and dreamed again. Life was all before me, now joyous, now sad. I ached with the pleasure of existence, then stumbled beneath the burden of life. I was weary, I was triumphant, I was a distressed mortal, I was a god. I had lost all count of time, the world was no longer my resting place. When Ed touched me as the last note died away, I arose and left the church as in a dream--the said dream cost me my precious flowers. I did not discover my loss until the hotel was reached. Ed declares the moral is: "Wives, trust your husbands." Lucerne, her lion and her organ shall be locked in my memory cabinet, and when I am home again I shall open the door for you, dear. Tomorrow we bid Switzerland goodbye, for "across the Alps lies Italy," and oh, I am so eager to see that fair country. Do not let the children forget Auntie. I am always thinking of them, and hardly a day passes without their uncle mailing a card to one of them. I wish you, sister, and the children were with me, then my happiness would be complete.

Sweet dreams of me.

Lovingly,

C.