But do more than this. Relate the story of Good Will. Tell the person whom you are asking to subscribe why you want the subscription, and why you want it now. Tell him or her that Good Will Farm, while in Maine, takes boys from any part of the country, and is therefore not a local, but a national enterprise. Say that it is a house for an Industrial school that the Order is to build. The Farm is in good hands, and the school itself will be well conducted. Our task is only to put up the building, not to conduct the school. Say that during the last few years—two or three—more than 700 poor boys have applied for admission to Good Will, and had to be refused it for lack of room. These boys were deserving. Say further that if you get the subscription the school will be built, and, by turning a house now used for the school into a dwelling, more boys can be taken—boys of five, six, and seven years of age, who are now homeless, may be given homes, school advantages, and a chance to become useful Christian men.
During the next two weeks will you get this subscription? Talk it up—and get it. The appeal is not made to the Order. It is made to you. If you do not wish to cut out the coupon, make a pen one nearly like it, ask us for duplicates, or send on the subscription without a coupon, simply saying that you got it to help the school, and that you want 50 cents of the $2 given to the Fund. Be sure to give the subscription address, and your own name for the Honor Roll.
Come on, dear friends, let us build this school-house.
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when accompanied by an order For a NEW subscription to Harper's Round Table and One Dollar and Fifty Cents. The intent of this Coupon is to pay you for inducing another person, not now a subscriber, to subscribe for Harper's Round Table for one year. This Coupon has nothing whatever to do with your own subscription; that is, with the copy you expect to read next year, it matters not in whose name it be ordered, and will not be accepted as payment for any part of it. It is good for its face in the hands of any person who performs the work indicated, whether said person is a subscriber or not. HARPER & BROTHERS.
A Drive in Switzerland.
We have been passing three weeks of our summer vacation at Mühlenen, a tiny village in the Bernese Oberland, where there are so many interesting things to write about that the only trouble is to know with what to begin. One beautiful drive we took would, I think, interest our Table, so I shall do my best to describe it.
Mühlenen lies in a lovely and fertile valley called the Frutigthal, through which winds a rushing river, the Kander. A great deal higher up than Mühlenen, about nineteen kilometres away, is the village of Kandersteg, 1156 metres above the level of the sea, and just at the entrance of the celebrated Gemmi Pass. To this little village, one cloudless summer day, we—my aunt, a dear friend, my sister, and myself—decided to drive, and, what is more, we determined to be unconventional, and go without a coachman. In Switzerland a lady never drives herself, and it is even seldom that a gentleman does so, but we knew that people would shrug their shoulders and say: "Ah, well! they are only Americans," in a tone that implies, "they know no better, and are up to anything wild and dangerous," so we have gone alone from time to time during the past year.
At half past seven we were safely installed in the "Einspenner," as they call the one-horse vehicles there, and Lenore, being driver, tried her best to crack the whip in a professional way, ejaculated "hui! hui!" and wound up the brake. In German Switzerland one must say "hui hui" to make a horse go, while in the French cantons "allez houp" is the usual way. Our Table probably knows that every carriage has a brake, which is put on at every slight decline with the greatest care. As we came into the main road to Frutigen all eyes were turned towards the beautiful Blümlisalp, which rose in its grandeur before us, and no wonder, for it is a sight one never tires of. Before us lay the peaceful green valley, the picturesque old peasant houses dotted about, and to the left the quaint little village of Reichenbach, with its old church-tower bearing the date 1546. On the right, rising about 300 feet away, the dark Niesen towered up towards the sky, at its base the Kander, whose music lulls us to sleep every night, and straight before us the Blümlisalp, Gerihorn, Wildstrubel, and many other mountains.
We drove on to Frutigen, passing many sheep, cows, and goats, being driven by peasant owners to the cattle market which was to be held next day. Most of these peasants laughed at our driver, making some good-natured remark, others passed nodding "Gott grüss Ihnen" (God greet you), as is the custom. Frutigen is the most important village in the valley, and is also quite modern looking. A large fire there some time ago burnt up a great many houses, which have been replaced by stone buildings which look very stiff and ugly in comparison to the wooden chalets. Just on the other side of Frutigen is a hill on which the ruins of the old castle of Tellenburg are to be seen. Fellen was the old German word meaning tax or tribute, and the people of the valley had to pay tribute to the barons who lived in the castle. The last baron, Anton von Thurm, was deeply in debt and sold the whole valley to Bern for 6200 Gulden.
About an hour from Frutigen is the "Blauseeli," or little blue lake, which I once described in a letter to the "Post-office," before our Order existed. A little further on is another ruin, exceedingly picturesque, and situated just as I imagined a castle should be, on a high, almost inaccessible rock. The owner was also Anton von Thurm, a wild, cruel tyrant. He and his followers were greatly feared throughout the valley, and yet the people had to pay him tribute. Once he had the fine idea to exact a herd of young cattle from them as that year's payment, and when the peasants begged and implored him not to, he simply laughed them to scorn.
The people held a counsel and decided to kill the wicked baron. They decorated the asked-for cattle, dressed themselves in their Sunday best, and started off to the castle apparently peaceful, happy, and resigned, but in reality each with a hidden weapon. The baron heard in some way that there was a plot against him, and at the last minute fled over the border, back to his castle in the canton of Valais. The people arrived only to find the Felsenburg deserted and the doors closed against them. Filled with rage at being robbed of their prey they beat in the doors and destroyed the castle completely, leaving it the ruin we now can see. I think they served the Baron Anton right.
After passing the Felsenburg the road goes up in zigzags to the Kander Valley. All the way we had a most beautiful view of the whole Frutigen Valley with mountain chain of the Viesen in the background. The houses began to be very interesting now, for almost all have texts or inscriptions burned on the outside, as well as dates. We stopped to read some of them, and I copied this one for the Table.
Gebauen durch Johannes Brosser und sein Ehgemahl Maria Ogi. 1m 1556 Jahre. David Würner Zimmermeister war.
Gott bewahre dieses Haus,
Und die da geben ein und aus.This last is evidently original poetry, meaning, "God protect this house, and those who go in and out of it." Some of them are texts from the Bible, and I think the idea very beautiful. Others have no texts nor verses, but tell who built the house, who owned it, and some give a long list of the people who lived in it, what their profession was, etc. One house evidently was the first work of some proud young carpenter, for he wrote, "Johann Hari was carpenter and twenty-two years old."
I said we stopped the horse to read these texts. How most of the Knights and Ladies would have laughed could they have seen how we stopped him. If I saw an interesting looking house, I had to say that I wanted to read what was on it quite a while before we came to it. Then Lenore would brace herself and pull up the horse, but instead of stopping like a well-bred animal he would walk on and on till finally, when Lenore had no "pull" left in her, he would stop. Not that he was a fiery, spirited horse. Alas! no. It was just as hard to make him start after he had once been persuaded to stand still, and as for trotting— We all combined our voices in a loud "hui, hui," at the same time flecking him continually with the whip, to make him go out of a creeping walk.
At Kandersteg we went to the Hotel Gemmi for dinner, and while waiting till it was ready amused ourselves by reading the queer verses written all over the dining-room walls. At another table were some travellers, two of them unmistakably American, and it sounded very homelike to hear "all right," instead of "quite so." I was buying photographs for my collection later, and an English lady came up and spoke to me. During the conversation I said something about America. "Are you American?" she said, incredulously. Upon my replying in the affirmative she went on, "Why, reely you have no accent at all." We arrived in Mühlenen at seven o'clock in high spirits, and much delighted with the beautiful day.