The Swiss are considered an honest people, but they either show great carelessness or we have several times been cheated. At the Baths of St. Gervais, upon paying for our dinner, they did not return to us enough change; we both knew they did not, and yet the man who took the money declared they did, and as we had not time to contend the case, we let it go. To be sure, there is some dishonesty everywhere, and some honesty that is a little hard to understand. The whiskey case might have been of that class; something like the bills of some American dressmakers, who, after charging for every possible thing that could be used in making a dress, modestly put at the end of the long list: ‘Findings, one dollar.’ I have never been able to find out the definition of that word ‘findings.’
LETTER VII.
Martigny.
Our ride of thirty miles has been delightful. There is no railroad, of course, from Chamouni to this place. We passed many pedestrians of both sexes, with their bags and waterproofs strapped across their backs, following in a line like a row of ants, apparently having a jolly time seeing Switzerland on foot; also passed parties on mules. The scenery was glorious all the way. We looked back to take our last view of Mt. Blanc and the Mt. Blanc range and the lovely valley below. Our road was good, but in some places so narrow, and the ravines so deep on the one side and the mountains so high on the other, that it gave us a little anxiety; but our driver was very cautious, and soon inspired us with confidence. Up and down we went, constantly seeing new and wonderful views—deep gorges, waterfalls, and the green-clad mountains; and at last, through a tunnel cut through a solid rocky point of the mountain that blocked the road, we came to Tête Noire, where we stopped to refresh man and beast.
Upon going in to dinner we were surprised to see there two ladies whom we met at Chamouni the day before, and who were travelling alone like ourselves. They told us they left at eight o’clock, after being assured that no others at the hotel desired to come with them, as far as was known; so they had a carriage to themselves as we did, when we should all have been glad to have made the trip together. Was that a mistake also? After dinner we continued our journey, with four other carriage loads in our train, which made the trip seem very social and jolly. We passed through a beautiful forest, and then into an opening past houses far apart, pasture lands, and fields of pretty wild flowers. Here we saw pansies growing wild in great profusion, and the lovely pink, and crimson yarrow. In our descent of the Col de Forclag we had a fine viem of the Rhone valley, and at about six P.M. reached Martigny. Switzerland is indeed mighty; and its great mountains, its lakes and valleys, make us cry out, in truth, ‘Great is Thy firmament, O Lord, and wonderful the works of Thy hand!’ Martigny is a small village in the valley, where we are to spend the night.
Thursday, July 12th, 1888.—We can see, in the distance, St. Bernard covered with snow, and would like to see the celebrated hospice, the self-sacrificing brothers and their noble dogs, but shall not take the time this season, but hope to, some time. Of the two great gifts, memory and hope, I know not which gives us the most satisfaction. There is but little of interest at Martigny—a good place to rest; and feeling entirely refreshed we left at nine A.M. for Interlaken in steam-cars, which seem quite a novelty to us now. I think I was rather glad to get out of the mountain region for a little while: one’s eyes grow weary with the looking up and the looking down, and the mind tired in the appreciating of so much sublimity at once. The country we came over was charming; fields of wild flowers of every color looking as if arranged by an artistic hand, and the hillsides covered with vineyards. Our road, for a long distance, kept near Lake Geneva; the water looked as deeply blue as a sapphire, and the sail-boats and steamers passing each other made a pleasing scene.