I saw them off, and then plunged fathoms deep into sleep, dreaming of
a land flowing with mules and donkeys. At five, I was up, and was
surprised to find that the despised Domodossola was a beautiful and
interesting old town, with curiously Spanish effects in its shadowy
streets, lined with ancient, arcaded houses. I thought to save time
and fatigue by taking a carriage to the frontier village of Iselle at
the foot of the Pass, and was glad I had done so, for the road was
rough and covered inches deep with a deposit of peculiar, grey dust.
But things mended when we climbed a hill, turned out of the main
valley, and followed the course of the river Diveria into a lateral
gorge of the mountains, the real porchway or entrance of the Simplon
Pass.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VII
At Last!
"A Jack-o'-lantern, a fairy fire,
A dare, a bliss, and a desire."
--BLISS CARMAN.
"Here a great personal deed has room."
--WALT WHITMAN.
The further I penetrated into the mountains, the more like a vast
engineering workshop did the long Alpine valley become. Yet, curiously
enough, instead of destroying romance, this gave a certain majestic
romance of its own; the romance of man's struggle to conquer the
stupendous forces of Nature with his science. It was as if Vulcan's
stithy had been dropped down into a profound ravine of the Alps, and
the drone of machinery mingled with the music of the fleeting river--a
strange diapason.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97