The old monastery life so ably depicted in “Ekkehard,” by Von Scheffel, with its descriptions of the herdsmen and hermit on the Sentis, have surrounded that region with a halo of romance for all who have enjoyed the perusal of the book.
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The Sentis, with its cap of snow, is the highest mountain in Appenzell, and the goal for travellers who wish to make a whey cure or to enjoy an excursion to its summit. From the top of this mountain the view embraces the Lake of Constance, southern Germany, the Tyrolean Mountains, and the Alps in Glarus and Bern. All the way up are various pastures with their low châlets, where butter and cheese are constantly made and carried down the steep paths for consumption in the valleys. The Sentis, like all other mountains where cattle go to pasture, is supposed to be haunted by mountain-folk, who, when well treated, always helpful to mortals.
The Devil, too, plays his part in the Sentis legends, for one of them claims that a lazy herdsman once called upon him to take his cattle, so that he need no longer run after them when they strayed into dangerous places. The words were no sooner uttered than a hurricane swept down the mountain, and the terrified peasant saw Satan, riding on the wind, drive his cows over the edge of the abyss. In sudden repentance he made a sign of the cross, fell on his knees, and cried that he had sinned grievously. At those words the wind ceased, the Devil vanished; but ever since then the pasture, which had been known as the Glücksalp, or Lucky Alp, has been called Im Fehlen, or In Sin.
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Another legend claims that the Devil once came striding across northern Switzerland with a huge bag slung over his shoulder. In this sack he had packed away a large number of houses, together with their inhabitants, and was carrying them away with the intention of removing them for ever from Swiss soil. While taking a leap over the Sentis, however, he burst a hole in his bag, and the houses all tumbled down in Appenzell, where they still stand in irregular groups, just as they fell.
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The same story which is told of the Alphorn at Meiringen is also told of the heights near the much frequented baths of Ragatz, in the southern part of the canton of St. Gall. Not very far from this resort, and on the same wild stream, the Tamina, are the no less noted baths of Pfäfers, and farther up the gorge an ancient abbey of the same name, to which legend ascribes the following origin:—
In the beginning of the eighth century St. Pirminius and his disciple Adalbert preached the gospel in the eastern part of Switzerland. Their efforts were rewarded with such success that they determined to build a chapel and monastery in this part of the country. Wishing to secure the Pope’s consent and blessing for this undertaking, Pirminius set out for Rome, bidding Adalbert in the meantime select a suitable site and begin clearing ground.
After much search Adalbert decided upon a lovely sheltered valley, where the sun shone brightly, where grass and fruit-trees were abundant, and where limpid waters flowed gently through meadows and forests. He and his converts now began felling trees, but while doing so Adalbert’s axe suddenly slipped, inflicting a deep wound in his sandalled foot. The blood gushed forth, staining the chips around, and while all were trying to check its flow, a white dove suddenly alighted near them, and catching up a gory chip, flew off to a neighbouring tree. At the same moment Adalbert’s blood stopped running, the wound closed, and in a moment he felt no more pain.