The Brother, who showed me to my berth, was very young and very good-natured. He brought to me in my room all that I wanted, instead of obliging me to go to the refectory for my supper, where, as it happened, I should have met again the Italian players I had run away from some hours before; for they had followed me on to the Hospice. I might have guessed that they would not have stayed at the inn. Perhaps my alpenstock, and very dusty feet, had some weight with the good man.
September 9.—Was up, and out of my room at 5 A.M. Found no one stirring in the Hospice but a lad and a girl. Both appeared to be about fourteen years of age. For an early traveller to begin the day with, there was plenty of coffee and milk, and of bread and butter, in my room; the remains of the bountiful refection of yesterday evening. On my asking the young people where I was to find some one to whom I might make an acknowledgment for the hospitality I had received, I was told that it was the custom for the visitors to make their offerings in the chapel, putting them in a basin which was shown me behind the door. I left them in the chapel, discussing the amount I had deposited. Having complied with this ceremony, I started for Brieg. As the road was good, and the whole of it downhill, I walked at a good pace, and had completed the sixteen miles at 9.15. There is a short cut by which you may be saved the long détour by Berisal, and lessen the distance, as the books say, though I do not believe the books upon this point, to the amount of five miles. I did not look for this short cut, for fear that my attempting to take it might issue in a loss of time. When you don’t know the country, the short cut often proves the longest way.
Soon after commencing the descent you come to the galleries, partly excavated in the rock, and partly formed of very massive masonry, through which the road is carried along the flank of the Monte Leone, and across the gorge of Schalbet. These galleries, as well as the Houses of Refuge and the Hospice, shelter the traveller from the storms and avalanches, which are frequent in this part of the pass. The great Kaltenwasser glacier of Monte Leone hangs over them; and the torrent from it slips over the roof of one of the galleries. To find yourself in this way beneath an Alpine torrent, and to look into it, as it dashes by, through an opening in the side of the galleries, will give to some a new sensation. This is the head-water of the Saltine, which joins the Rhone at Brieg. As you pass along this part of the road you have before you the terrific forces, and savagery, of Alpine nature; but you reflect that civilised man has been able, if not to overcome them, yet at all events to protect himself from them. You think that it is something to be a man; or, with less of personal feeling, that civilisation has endowed him with much power. These scenes stir the mind. They enlarge thought, and strengthen will. Below Berisal the torrent of the Gauter, an affluent of the Saltine, is crossed by a massive stone bridge. This is so lofty that it appears a light and airy structure; still it possesses what it requires, a great deal of strength, to enable it to resist the blasts created by the falling avalanches, which are frequent in this neighbourhood. You are surprised at coming so soon in sight of Brieg, and of the valley of the Rhone. You see that you have now completely surmounted the great barrier nature interposed between her darling Italy, where you were yesterday morning, and the hardy North, of which you rejoice to be a child. Perhaps you will think that it was not ill done that you crossed it on foot.
CHAPTER VIII.
BRIEG—THROUGH THE UPPER RHONE VALLEY BY CHAR TO THE RHONE GLACIER—HÔTEL DU GLACIER DU RHÔNE
Happy the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound;
Content to breathe his native air
On his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,