LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2167, 4 February 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A MOUNTAIN ADVENTURE. In 1851 I made a tour with a party of friends through the picturesque snd beautiful country ot Switzerland. We l*f t Geneva by boat, and proceeded to Vilieneuve, situated at the other extremity of the lake, where we took carriages to Martigny. The pass of the Tete Noire is one of the most remarkable in the world. High, precipitous mountains, covered with firs, arise on either hand, revealing a deep, dark chasm, into whose depths it is impossible for a traveller to g*zo without turning dizzy. At its bottom wen da along, over rocks and boulders, a little Btream of water, caused by the drippings from the sides of the mountains, and in the wet reason, when swollen by rains, it assumes the proportions of a gigantic torrent as it dances along in giddy swiftness, and is lust in the valley below.

The road at this point is but a m?re bridle-path, over which it is impossible f _>r wheeled vehicles to pass, and is hewn in the solid rock on the mountain side. The sun never shines in the ravine, nor dries with its warm rays the rank wet sides of the defile. From the Tete Noire it was a gradual descent until we reached the valley at the head of which stands Mont Blanc, and whero stands the pretty little village of Ohamouci.

One morning, shortly after our arrival, Madame B , one of our party, and myself started alone to vIbU Mcr de Glace, some fifteen miles distant.

Passing several parties of excunioni*t?, we had aoaomplished nearly half the distance when we stopped at the doir of a pretty little vine-clad cottage for a drink of the 000 l water whioh was gurgling along in a little stream near by. A stout hard looking man of about fifty was engaged in planting flowers in a peal little garden, and in answer to our request for a drink of the sparkling water, entered the cottage, and returned bearing a pitcher of it, with which we allayed our thirst

While thna engaged, I noted that he kept eyeing my companion closely, and as we were about moving off he said—- ' Are yon not Madame 8., who twenty years ago visited this Chamonni, and had for your guide Pierre Blanoot f ' Yob,' replied my companion. 'I am the, and in yon I recognise my old faithful Pierre, the preserver of my life.' ' Ah, Madame,' said he, seizing hei hand and holding it between his rough palm*, while tears rolled down his cheeks, ' I have longed for years that this time might oome, when I should be able to thank my benefao tress for the Mornings she has heaped upon me. Come here Marie,' cried he to a matronly looking woman who stood In the door of the cottage, 'come here and kiss onr benefactress' hand. She is the good angel who has been the canse of all onr comforts, and for whose safety wo have prayed for twenty years.' ' Stop, Pierre,' said madame, embarrassed, bat not displeased at bis expression of gratitude ; ' yon must recollect that it is I, not yon, who am the obliged party. To yon I owe my life, far yon preserved it once when in imminent danger, and my husband merely bestowed on you a present for your faithfulness and devotion in the hour of trial.'

'But,' continued Pierre, with warmth, 'Monsieur's gift enabled me to buy this little place, and to leave the perilous life of a guide, and to marry my dear Marie, whom before that I could not wed, as I had no home for her.'

Amid the blessings of Pierre and his wife, we rode off. For some distance we pursued our way in silence. At length Madame B. said—

'Yon must think the scene y«u have just witnessed a very strange one; the gratitude of this simple hearted peasant, and my emotion at seeing him, must have struck you as singular; and now that I have mastered my feelings I will relate to you, if you wish, the circumstances under which he saved my life.'

Eagerly signifying my assent, end owning that the affecting scene had greatly excited my cariosity, she continued as follows:

'Twenty-two years ago next spring I was married to Monsieur B, in Paris, and immediately started on an extended wedding toor. Switzerland was in onr route, and having visited Berne, Constance, and Geneva, we came here. My husband, on the recommendation of a friend, who was about returning to Paris, engaged Pierre Blanoot as oor guide, and a well-informed one he prove 1 to be. Not only did he know all the pi sees of interest in the neighborhood, and take delight in pointing oat the best views in the lovely londscspe, hat his strength was such that he would lift me in and out of the saddle and help me over the dangeoas plaoes, as thcogh I were an infant in his brawny arms. •One day we made the trip we were making together, when an accident befell me, whioh resulted quite seriously. 'After walking a good disance on the Mer de Glace, we started to return to the house, and were obliged to cross several huge blocks of ice. Pierre was in front with a hatchet, catting little steps for us to desoend by, when, in some unaccountable manner, 1 slipped and strained my ankle severely. The pain was intense, so that 1 was obliged to be carried back to Chamonni. ' For several weeks I kept my ronm, but at last, feeling much better, we started on an excursion to an old saw-mill, from which an exceedingly fine view was obtained. ' Unable to mount a mule, my husband procured for me one of th ee curious vehicles we met to-day, called a ' char a banc' You notice how comfortable they are made fur rough roads, being nothing more than a long spring board extended from the forward and hind wheels on which is fastened a sea*, in which the passenger sits sideways. Well, Pierre carried me down and seated me in the 'char-a-banc,'mounted a kind of b >x there is in front, and we started off. My husband, armed with a stout Alpine staff, walked at our side for a while, when, saying that he knew of a shoit cut over the mountain, he left as, promising to arrive at the old mi; 1 before as, and have oar lunch in readiness, ' Alas, he little dreamed cf the danger I would be placed in, or the wonderfa. escape from death I should experience before we again met. • After following for several mi'es the old bed of a stream in the valley, we entered a dark gorge, and commenced the ascent. The scenery was most picturesque. On eitner side were heavy masiiea of fit trees, and the ground appeared carpeted with beautiful mountain flowers, so nameious in this district.

I have forgotten the name of the mountain we were ascending, bnt I recollect well the loveliness of the road. At last we crossed a foaming, angry torrent, and commenced following it to it 3 source, for it was on this stream that the mill was situated. • The road waß built on the top of a cliff overhanging the water, and bo narrow that It was impossible for two wLeeled vehicles to pass. At intervals a place was excavated in the bank for parties going up to wait until parties descending had passed by. • The old mill was tituated high above at the distance of about a mile, and Pii-rre had juot |pointed me out its site, when be nttered an exclamation of surprise, and jumping from the box ran a few yards in front.

Looking in the direction he had taken, I saw a sight which curdled the blood in my veins, and appeared to freeze my heart.

• Coming round a curve in the road, and very near to us, was a runaway mule, attached to a load of lumber, which, striking his heels as be bounded a'oug, goaded him on in his mad flight. 'I he danger of my situation flashed on my mind in an instant. As I have said before, the road was on y wide enough for one wagon to stand in, and I realised at once that one of us most go over the bank. Even were I out if tha 'oara-banc,' it would be very doubtful if I escaped, for the wagon behind the mule swayed fearfully from one side to the other, as it kept increasing its frightful velocity each moment. I think I never suffered more anguish of mind in a few minutes than I did at that time. All the events of my past life flashed through my brain like lightning, and mingled sceneß of years ago, with those of the present time. I knew that at the mill was my good husband, anxiously looking out for us, and I grieved to think how hoarorstrloken he would be when word waa taken to him of my fearful death. • But all at once a ray of hope entered my heait, and I oompreh ended why Pierre had left the bcu bo cadd«nly. Thero be etood,

fl mly braced, in the oenter of the road, » few roHf in front of me, wa*o iDg, with thsmoat Intense earnestness, every motion of the enraged "unle who, with glaring eye-balls and distended nostri'a, apparently unoonscions of all nave his extreme terror, was tearing down upon him with an almost kraBietible power. At last (I say at hut, for th»few seconds that brief scene occupied seemed: to me like age ), they met. Like an avalanehsdid the Infuriat d mule come against Pierre. who, instead of being overthrown, as I expected, by a skilful display of his immensestrength, hurled the mnle from him, over the orocipice into the depths below. ' I bad, at the instant of the collision, closed my eye*. I heard the crashing of ths mule and wagon as they went rolling down. the steep bank into the water 200 ft below, and, realißin.- that I was saved, the revulsion of my fuelingH was Rnch that I ffcinted. 'Vt hen,? recovered my senses, which I did in a short time, 1 fount myself in my husband's arms He had from a distance, witnessed the event, and hurried to my side.*

All parts of Cyprus have been visited fey BDvere thunderstorms, whioh have dons great damage to property. Five houses ia liimasol were washed away by the heavy rains.

Mount Vesuvius (a recent Naples telegmx* says) is now very active. Lava continues flowing from the crater, and present indications point to the probability of menaced eruptive energy.

A steam tramway, branching from lbs Olampino station of the Oampagna, and connecting Marino and the Alban Hills with Borne, is stated to have been inaugurated.