East of Coire and south of the lovely Prätigau, is Davos Platz, so charmingly located near the top of a pass, where it is well sheltered from the northeast winds. Besides its interest as a health resort visited by many noted people, and the beautiful scenery and healthful climate, this place derives additional charms from its legends. On the western slope of the Davos Schwartzhorn, for instance, there is a place generally known as the Dead Alp. Not a shrub or blade of grass is seen there now; so it offers a striking contrast to the many other fine pastures in that vicinity.
In olden days this desolate spot was the finest grazing-ground for miles around, for it was then thickly covered with heavy grass, and watered by springs of the freshest water. At one time the land belonged to a rich young dairy maid, who came down into the valley one fine Sunday afternoon to dance on the village green. She had so many partners, and so thoroughly enjoyed herself with them, that she did not want to go home, although she knew that it was time to milk the cows. Duty warned her to return; but the delights of dancing proved so tempting that she determined to linger, and tried to silence the voice of conscience by recklessly cursing both pasture and kine. This malediction had scarcely left her lips, when her fruitful alp was turned into a desert, her cows all vanished, and she suddenly found herself deprived of all the worldly goods she had so little known how to appreciate!
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Other Davos herdsmen, as pleasure-loving as she, once cursed the Icelandic moss or Cyprian herb which was then so rich in milk-producing qualities that they had to milk their cows several times a day. No sooner was the curse uttered than the luscious herb dried up, and ever since then it has been the poorest sort of fodder, which no animal will eat as long as something else can be found to satisfy its hunger.
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Not very far from the Dead Alp, you can see, summer and winter, a broad field of snow, far below the usual snow-line. This, too, was once a luxuriant pasture, where herdsmen were kept very busy tending their cows, and making butter and cheese from the milk they gave in such profusion.
The owner of this alp was so good and generous that the poor were in the habit of going up there for food whenever they were hungry, and there was much wailing among them when he grew ill and died, and they heard the pasture now belonged to an avaricious man. They soon found the new proprietor was even worse than they expected, for he was very cruel too, and drove all beggars away with curses and hard blows.
A poor but numerous family, travelling through the country, climbed up these heights one cold and foggy day, to beg for the food and shelter no one else could have denied them. But when they drew near the châlet, cross dogs rushed out to meet them, barking, snarling, and showing their teeth in the fiercest way. The poor people nevertheless made their way to the door, where they stood, humble suppliants, while the oldest among them described their pitiful plight and asked for aid.
The hard-hearted herdsman would not listen to him, however, roughly bade him begone with all his family, and seeing he did not immediately obey, called out to his men to drive the beggars away. This order was only too promptly obeyed. The rough servants rushed out, and falling upon the poor family, lashed them with their long whips, threw stones at them, and laughed with uproarious glee when their fierce dogs began to chase the beggars down the mountain.
Besides several old people, there were weak women and puny little children among these poor fugitives; still these cruel men felt no respect for age or sex, and merely urged on their dogs worse than ever. Their inhumanity proved too much for an old man, who, as he tottered last down the path, with torn garments and bleeding limbs, suddenly turned around and cursed their alp, wishing it might soon be hidden beneath a covering of snow that might rest upon it for ever.