The Monikins | Page 4

manner I became possessed of the manuscript.
Such a desire is too just and natural to be thwarted, and the tale shall be
told as briefly as possible.
During the summer of 1828, while travelling among those valleys of
Switzerland which lie between the two great ranges of the Alps, and in
which both the Rhone and the Rhine take their rise, I had passed from
the sources of the latter to those of the former river, and had reached
that basin in the mountains that is so celebrated for containing the
glacier of the Rhone, when chance gave me one of those rare moments
of sublimity and solitude, which are the more precious in the other
hemisphere from their infrequency. On every side the view was
bounded by high and ragged mountains, their peaks glittering near the
sun, while directly before me, and on a level with the eye, lay that
miraculous frozen sea, out of whose drippings the Rhone starts a
foaming river, to glance away to the distant Mediterranean. For the first
time, during a pilgrimage of years, I felt alone with nature in Europe.
Alas! the enjoyment, as all such enjoyments necessarily are amid the
throngs of the old world, was short and treacherous. A party came
round the angle of a rock, along the narrow bridle-path, in single file;
two ladies on horseback, followed by as many gentlemen on foot, and
preceded by the usual guide. It was but small courtesy to rise and salute
the dove-like eyes and blooming cheeks of the former, as they passed.
They were English, and the gentlemen appeared to recognize me as a
countryman. One of the latter stopped, and politely inquired if the
passage of the Furca was obstructed by snow. He was told not, and in
return for the information said that I would find the Grimsel a little
ticklish; "but," he added, smiling, "the ladies succeeded in crossing, and
you will scarcely hesitate." I thought I might get over a difficulty that
his fair companions had conquered. He then told me Sir Herbert Taylor
was made adjutant-general, and wished me good morning.
I sat reflecting on the character, hopes, pursuits, and interests of man,
for an hour, concluding that the stranger was a soldier, who let some of
the ordinary workings of his thoughts overflow in this brief and casual
interview. To resume my solitary journey, cross the Rhone, and toil my
way up the rugged side of the Grimsel, consumed two more hours, and

glad was I to come in view of the little chill- looking sheet of water on
its summit, which is called the Lake of the Dead. The path was filled
with snow, at a most critical point, where, indeed, a misplaced footstep
might betray the incautious to their destruction. A large party on the
other side appeared fully aware of the difficulty, for it had halted, and
was in earnest discussion with the guide, touching the practicability of
passing. It was decided to attempt the enterprise. First came a female of
one of the sweetest, serenest countenances I had ever seen. She, too,
was English; and though she trembled, and blushed, and laughed at
herself, she came on with spirit, and would have reached my side in
safety, had not an unlucky stone turned beneath a foot that was much
too pretty for those wild hills. I sprang forward, and was so happy as to
save her from destruction. She felt the extent of the obligation, and
expressed her thanks modestly but with fervor. In a minute we were
joined by her husband, who grasped my hand with warm feeling, or
rather with the emotion one ought to feel who had witnessed the risk he
had just run of losing an angel. The lady seemed satisfied at leaving us
together.
"You are an Englishman?" said the stranger.
"An American."
"An American! This is singular--will you pardon a question?--You
have more than saved my life--you have probably saved my reason--
will you pardon a question?--Can money serve you?"
I smiled, and told him, odd as it might appear to him, that though an
American, I was a gentleman. He appeared embarrassed, and his fine
face worked, until I began to pity him, for it was evident he wished to
show me in some way, how much he felt he was my debtor, and yet he
did not know exactly what to propose.
"We may meet again," I said, squeezing his hand.
"Will you receive my card?"
"Most willingly."
He put "Viscount Householder" into my hand, and in return I gave him
my own humble appellation.
He looked from the card to me, and from me to the card, and some
agreeable idea appeared to flash upon his mind.
"Shall you visit Geneva this