They appear to be fond of each other, but to other birds they are very troublesome, destroying their nests and eggs, and sometimes pouncing on the young ones, to the great vexation of the Lumleys.
4th.—Those poor travellers, whom more than a month ago I told you that good Mrs. Ando had so generously taken into her own house, have been obliged to continue there ever since; and my aunt has two or three times driven to Newnham to visit them. They have, you know, one little child, but the man seems to be dying, and his wife, a foreigner, nurses him with the most tender care. They have told their history to my aunt, and she has given me leave to relate it to you.
The young woman is a Swiss, her name is Madeleine, and her father was a merchant of Geneva, where they lived in comfortable affluence till his wife died. His affliction on this occasion was so violent that he resolved to quit Geneva for ever, and remove to a city in the south of France, where he might continue his business; but Madeleine was tired of a town life, and persuaded her father to give up commerce and retire to a little property he possessed in the district of Beaufort, in Savoy. She had formed delightful pictures in her imagination of the occupations of the farm, the vineyard, and the dairy, and she longed to realise them.
Her indulgent father yielded to her wishes, and they removed from all the comforts of Geneva to that remote and mountainous district. When they arrived, and that she saw the change which she had persuaded her father to make, she felt severe regret for having interfered; and would then have persuaded him to return, but he had arranged every thing for his residence in Savoy—he had made his decision, and he would not let it be again shaken.
His activity in a short time made the house comfortable, and he employed his time and his money in forming a garden and an extensive vineyard. The industry which he had devoted to trade, he now directed to the cultivation of the vine, and his unwearied assiduity was rewarded in a few years by a profusion of grapes, of which he made excellent wine. Every thing seemed to prosper, and Madeleine dearly loved a place where they had conquered so many difficulties, and where they had seen comfort and plenty rise out of a bare and rocky valley; a place which, with their endeavours to shelter and beautify it, and with the ornament of a remarkable group of fine old walnut trees on the hill behind the house, was now quite picturesque. The poor around them had also reason to like the change, for many a distressed family were now employed, and many an ignorant child was taught as well as clothed by Madeleine. But her father had laid out all his ready money on the vineyard and on a large stock of cattle; so that every thing depended on the success of his plans.
According to the custom of the country, their cattle were sent every summer with those of the neighbours, to the fresh air and sweet pasture of the mountains. They were all intrusted to the care of one person, who during the season lived on the top of the mountain, in a little wooden hut, called a chalet. There the milk of the cattle was collected; and in eight days after the cows had been driven up to the common pasture, the owners assembled, and the quantity of milk from each cow was weighed. The same thing was repeated once in the middle of summer; and at the end of the season the whole quantity of cheese and butter was divided in due proportion. The cattle were then driven back to the vallies, when there was a general festival, in which the whole commune joined. All the young people used to assemble at the chalet on this occasion in their holiday dresses, decorated with Alpine flowers; and with all the gaiety of youth, and with songs and dances, they attended the descent of their herds, which were also decked with ribbons, and bells, and garlands. At intervals the party sung together the touching song of the Ranz des vaches, or some of the pretty Savoyard airs.
On the morning of one of these festivals a traveller, who had missed his way in crossing the mountain, happened to apply at the chalet for assistance. The youthful crowd were actually setting out—the song which announced the general movement had already commenced—when seeing that the traveller was faint and in want of assistance, they stopped and hastened to relieve him. They gave him such refreshment as they could, and, unmindful of their own interrupted pleasures, they delayed their march to give him time to recover. When he was sufficiently revived by their hospitality, he accompanied the gay party to the village; and, charmed by their simple manners, he joined as well as he could in their happy and innocent festivity.
The traveller was an English officer, who had been wounded. He was then enjoying the bracing air and wild scenery of Savoy; and though he intended to winter in Italy, he wished to loiter a little longer among the glens and mountains of this picturesque country. Madeleine’s father was interested by his appearance of ill health, and pleased by the manner in which he expressed his gratitude for the kindness he had received, and therefore invited him, whenever his wanderings should lead him that way, to take up his quarters at Beaufort. He came more than once in the course of the autumn, and was always welcomed with warmth and hospitality by the good old Swiss and Madeleine.
At length he bade them adieu, and pursued his way to Italy, leaving them in happiness and prosperity. At the end of two years he again returned, and found them sunk into poverty and misery. The overflowing of the Doron, early in spring, had caused universal destruction in the valley: houses, gardens, and vineyards were swept away, and even the cattle, which were to have gone in a few weeks to the hills, were included in the general ruin. All was gone—a few hours had reduced these amiable people from affluence to absolute want. He who had been master there—whose active head and industrious hands had planned so well and executed so much, was now the passive object of his daughter’s cares. The shock had irreparably injured his mind, for he had spent his whole fortune in making this place for her, and he had now the melancholy consciousness that both were beggars. But Madeleine’s energy rose above misfortune. She turned her whole thoughts to the comforts of her father and the means of procuring them; and she earnestly prayed for the blessing of Heaven on her exertions.
As soon as they were settled in a very small cottage in the neighbourhood, she determined again to try the cultivation of the vine—but considerably higher on the side of the hill—so as to be secure from a second inundation. She intended to have laboured at this new plantation herself, with the assistance of one old and attached servant, but numbers of people from the neighbouring villages, who loved her and were grateful to her, insisted on being allowed to help. It is a common custom in Switzerland to plant vines on very steep hills, with alternate rows of dry stone walls, to preserve the soil about the plants; and Madeleine resolved to accomplish such a vineyard. By the assistance of these good-natured people, a small plantation was made: while some were digging, others built the little walls; and Madeleine herself guided the donkies which were laden with earth to make a sufficient soil, or with her own hands disposed it round each vine plant, and dressed the whole.