ift int entnuntitatim.
ENTERING SWITZERLAND BY THE
SIMPLON.-11.
From the note book of our Trovelliag Correa-
pondent.
REFUGE HOUSES
We pass at intervals square houses, built
merely of square dressed stone, substantial, but
gloomy in appearance. They are large enough
to have two or three rooms on the first floor with
a half story above. They are quite architectu
ral in appearance, all looking alike. We notice
that each one is numbered, and now we pass one
which has the word " Refuge " plainly painted
Over the door.
There are twelve of these scattered along the
pass. They were built by Napoleon Bonaparte
when he made the road, being intended to ac
commodate travellers in the winter when storms
are frequent, and when men would lose their
lives but for this temporary shelter. Certainly
these Refuges are silent monuments of the good
ness of the heart, as well as of the greatness of
the mind that could attend to such minutim,
while planning so mighty a 'work as thissplendid
mountain road. •
The valley is now getting narrower and as our
road winds among the mountains following the
course of the stream, the rocky walls, almost
perpendicular, shut out the view beyond, first
closing upon us on one side then on the other,
while the , opening beyond shows us nought. but
snow-clad summits hemming in the view,
WINDING . ALONG THE PRECIPICES
The stream is , still a strong torrent, roaring
over its rocky bed 200 feet and more below us.
The road is cut .into the mountain side at our
right, while a high retaining wall of masonry on
the left makes a dizzy precipice as we look down
upon the tops of the: tall' trees growing by the
stream. The stages would run' ugly risks of
getting a wheel down over that left edge of the
road, if it were not for the ever present granite
posts; which fringe the top•of the retaining wall.
They are about three feet high here, and not more
than ten feet apart around these dangerous
curves. Then the road is so broad and smooth
that there is no need of running near the side.
For this safety we thank old Napoleon, who sleeps
so quietly under the splendid dome of the lava
lides.
Now as we wind around the projecting moun
tain's edge, the road is so cut in the face of the
rock that we have half an arch over our heads,
while above the cutting the rock rises-perpendic
ular for 1,000 feet or more. We feel in these wild
solitudes, notwithstanding our isolation, a cer
tain nearness to home and friends, for ever at
the side of the road, rise friendly looking tele
graph poles, and we know that the wire can be
made to speak to our family and friends 4,000
miles away, and tell them how we are enjoying
these sublime crags that hem us in and shut out
our vision from the world beyond.
CROSSING THE ALPS-THE PALLS OP GONDA
A turn in the road shows us a light mist on
the mountain side to our right. We• hear a roar,
as though the stream which is now far below us
were tumbling over a high ledge. As the road
curves we see a white foaming torrent hurrying
down the mountain—a glorious sight.
We feel a tingling excitement as we strain our
eyes to take in the grand view. The torrent we
can follow for half a mile or more up the slope
of the mountain side, its course crooked and zig
zag, foaming, and white all the way, . —tearing,
leaping, boiling, roaring, it rushes down. We
try, with opera glasses, to trace it to its source in
a mighty snow-bed that has been sleeping for
centuries 'way up there on the top of the ridge ;
but the crags and the curve of the mountain
hide the upper stream from our view. The tor
rent crosses our road under a stone bridge and
rushes on, down a steeper declivity than it had
above, to join the Doveria, five or six hundred
feet below us. The excitement we feel as we
approach this sublime scene, cannot be described.
We have seen nothing so grand in all our travels.
Our hearts beat rapidly as we strain our nerves
to take it in. The torrent roars louder and louder;
we are enveloped in its mist. As we get abreast.
of it and look up the steep declivity it seems as
if the rushing foam would leap out from its
rocky bed and overwhelm us. It thunders as it
rushes under the bridge beneath us. The stone
arch-way seems to vibrate. A glance down the
torrent induces the momentary desire to jump
from the stage top over the side of the bridge and
go rushing down, riding the boiling foam into the
dark deep valley below.
At the end of the bridge we enter a tunnel
cut through the solid granite for six hundred.
feet. We hear the roar behind us, dying away,
but still feel the mist in our faces. Now
the tunnel is lighted by a window cut in the side,
which shows the perpendicular rocks of the other
side of the stream only a few feet from us. Now
all is dark again, but the road keeps its uniform
width of twenty-five feet, and we soon emerge
into the, bright sunlight, the valley being so nar
row that you could almost jump to the rocks on
the other side.
A RAINBOW
We descend from the stage and look down
over the precipice to see where the stream is—
how deep down. It is hundreds of feet below,
and has shrunk to one-fourth its former size.
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JUNE 17, 1869.
The rocks forming the two sides of the chasm
approach each other within a few yards. They
tower up nearly one thousand feet above us, two
perpendicular walls facing each other, and leav
ing only this crack or fissure through which the
stream is struggling. It is tumbling over the
rocks, and sends up clouds of silver spray which
fill the notch. But the sun is shining right down
to the very bottom of the deep chasm—and a
lovely rainbow rests against the dripping walls
of rock. Bright tufts of green grass shoot out
here ;and there from little shelves in the rocky
wall, and with the white boiling foam below, the
wet rocky sides, black and. brown, the
• rainbow
among the spray, and the,green fringes of grass
all lit up by the brilliant sun s which cannot shine
down in this deep chasm more than. five or ten
minutes during, the day, make , a picture as strik
ingly beautiful, as; can well be imagined. A priest
in his black gown,, travelling in one of the stages,
had ' also' dismounted ;and leaned over the preci
pice with. me. Ile could speak neither English.
nor French; but with a face beaming with. de.
light, he, muttered something I could not:under
stand, and hurried off to mount the,stage. But
my head becomes dizzy looking, down. the gorge
the rushing water seems to make rocks and. all
move, along. What if should lose my 'hold on
this sapling as I lean over ,
We mount the. stage, turning our backs •upon
scenes we would love ;to spend the day, amongst,
for we have greater heights beyond which must
be scaled before night. - The valley widens again
as we leave this narrow gorge; :but the winding
course of the stream shuts out any view beyond ,
a few hundred yards,;. the .rocky barriers !over
lapping each t other, and each corner of rock as
we wind round it, opening a, new, valley to the
vision. A few stunted pines and, blahs. grow
where a patch.of soil has, caught 4 on the ,rocky
steeps, but most of 'the mountain sides .are bare
rocks with streams: coming down here: and. .there,
from the snow-beds-above. Emerging from 'an
other tunnel; we seem to be . walled in totally;
but a closer view shows the road 'marking its zig
zag way up the face of the mountain that closes
in the view. A friendlY hamlet shows itself at
the foot'of the ascent, the first house we have
seen for many miles. Certainlya glad refuge
for man and beast mhen ,the storm king sweeps
these defiles and sends his blinding snowy t& fill
up the gorges and Mae the read and coyer, the
rocks and trees with his white mantel':
HIGHER LATITUDES
We dismount and walk up a _'steep"path,
leaving:the stages to drag their slow Way up 'the
zigzag road, while we sit on a 'high rook and'
watch them. We look down upon the valley ;ye
have just left, and enjoy the 'grand panorama.
From our elevated position we can see-the mouth
of the tunnel we last emerged from; then, one
rocky edge after the ;other around- which' the
road had been winding. The broad.road looks
like a narrow footpath as it follows the 'S treim.
The stages are here, we mount and are soon
climbing higher zigzag roads until we find our
selves on a plateau comparatively level.
SKY FARMING
All around us are green meadows, with little ca
tages here and there, cows feeding in one lot and
peasants cutting the hay in the next. Women
are doing most of the work. Thare are four or
five of ' them 'to every one man. The. bright
scarlet scarf or ha.nilkerchef covers their heads.
It is tied under the' chin and hangs in
, a point
behind. Some are turning the bay,
o thers raking
it into ricks, others assisting the men in loading
it on little wagons'. We notice little 'narrow Ca
nals, two feet wide and 'nearly as deep, running
here'and there all over the meadoivs. They are
fed from the melting snows 'at the' side `cif the
valley, and find 'their way into the stream in the
centre--after running back arid' forth' 'through
every field.
We were much surprised to, find these beauti
ful. culti , iated fields after having clinibed so high;
and leaving behind us' a desolate' barren' district,'
shut in by rocky walls where not a house, nor a
man, nor an animal' had been visible for 'miles.
The word alp iignifies a mouhtain pasture, and it
is these pastures, these green meadoWs high up
among thd mountains that havel,iven the name
to the whole region.
DINNER NEAR THE CLOUDS
We come to tbe little village of Simpione at
which we stop for dinner. Our appetites are
sharp, and the smiling fields around give us hope
of a good meal. We are not disappointed. Away
up here so near the clouds, we are soon enjoying
a well arranged, well cooked dinner. They give
us a course of soup, then delicate mountain trout,
then splendid mountain mutton, good beef,
stewed fowl, potatoes, peas, and . lettuce, stewed
pears for dessert, with good milk, butter, honey,
and cheese. The rye bread is ,excellent. White
and red wines too 'were set before us, but we
needed no stimulus to coax an'appeiite.
Who would have expected such a table among
these Alpine heights, more than four thousand
feet above the sea, nearly twice as high as our
Allegheny mountain range 7
As we leave the town, the - road ascends more
rapidly, and before long the valley grows more
narrow. Cultivation ceases; but again we enter
another valley, and here are smiling fields, and
farm-houses. We are coming nearer the clouds.
COLD. DESOLATION
The stream we have' followed all day is still
near by, but is shrunken to a rivulet. We are
travelling along a wide valley. On either hand
the mountains rise, a quarter to a half mile away,
their rocky sides lifting themselves, in some
places, quite precipitously, with a continuous
covering of snow all along, while in others the
mountain slopes up more gradually, the snow be
ginning as low down as the level of our road, and
covering the entire slope. Two rocky peaks pro
jecting here and there are again covered with
snow higher up. We are above the growth of
pines, for not a bush of any kind appears along
the hills. The snow banks come nearer to us on
either hand. Here are twenty or thirty cows
feeding in a meadow, and at the edge of the
field begins the snow bank that stretches up to
the top of the peak. It is getting colder every
minute, and we put 'on our overcoats, and un
bind tbe shawls for the ladies. Here are a few
scattered chalets made of logs or of stene; with
in a quarter of a mile of the eternal snovi. Their ,
are occupied, we judge; only a couple of In onths
in summer by the herdmen who tend thesr cat
tle. There are no - gardens around them, and no
evidences of regular' farm life.
Pretty flowers are growing at the ' , roadside,
however, and we 'pluck a nosegay. The wild
rose is not frightened out , of its life by these great
glaciers blinking alit..The little blue bell man
ages to maintain its existence, too, and' these
little yellow flowers shine happily among the
scanty tufts of moss. G. W. M:
THOUGHTS , FOR THE SUMMER.
" Wherever you may be—should you be
among friends or among strangers, among the
people of, the •world or the friends of the. Re
deemer,lhese vows: will.remain with you." " Ye
are not.your, own ; ye are bought with a price."
' Almost every one who reads these Words will re.
cognize them as being taken, the first from the
solemn charge given .by our oministerato•those
who come out from the- world to join themselves
to the people of God—the last from the gentle,]
,yet stirring words of the Apostle Paul, as he
i
'sought to win Christians to more entireself t .con-J
secretion. Let us think, for a 'moment of these
familiar words, and see if there is not that, in
them, which we should carry with
,u,s ; in ; all. ()ur,
summer wanderings, and which should help. i J us,
to walk worthy,of - thp name ,we bear. „
The vows which we thus,; solemnly, and, irrevo
cably take upon us, "in the, presence of God„
angels, and men"l—what are they ?, ,;They are,
vows of.. entire, willing consecration. of, • all that
we.have and are to the service of 9.04;,, vows,of
attachment to, and, covenant-union, with, His,
Church—of separation from the world., ,Follow
ing us everyere,covering all actions and all,
words, they lay a gentle but firm hand upon us
when we are tempted to sin, they bar our way
when, we walk towards paths of , worldliness or
'vanity, they incite and • inspire us to active labor
for the)ilaster, if, we only feel ,and; realize them
as, they , reo upon us. They are, • there, whether
we think of them or not—we cannot• shake them
off, CT go frombeneath them. We have deliberately
assumed them, and, we can, never revoke the
covenant thus made. Our, blessingor, Rur, purse
it, must be forever'. ,
, And it is a joyful,, blessed service t 6; which.
these vows bring us, if ,we only bow to the easy
yoke and lovingly take the light burden. It is
a service which is more blessed, the more e.ntire
ly and devotedly it is .followed. If. we try to
make as little as possible ,of our vows, and keep{
them as, negligently as we can without actually ;
renouncing them, they will be only a weariness 1 1
and a weight to us. -But, if we daily take them
to,our hearts anew with; joy and; gratitude, and )
ever strive, to feel their gentle, hol,y influence;
they will be, like, the pressure of a, mother's lovy
ing hand, and not like the stern grip
. of , ,a jailor,
from which lye would gladly escape.],„
" Among the,people of the WOrl4 . thp friends,
of the Redeemer!' his comparatively easy to
acknowledge and be faithful; to, our vow,s, when,
we are surrounded by those who.
_are under . the
same, who will uphold, us in our. efforts ,to keep . ;
them, who, will rejoide if.we are true to them, and
mourn if we are unfaithful. When those around
us are " friends of the Redeemer,'.' it is not hard
to range ourselves with them, and call Him our
friend. But "among the people' of the, world,"
how is it then ? Ah, many a weak Christian
aye, and many a strong one too, has found out
what a different thing it is to declare friendship,
for One who has,to others " no beauty that, they
should desire Him." The temptation is so strong
to hide the love for, this " despised and rejected"
One in tbeir own hearts, outwardly to appear the
same with the people of the world around, and
only to do, small service secretly for Him, which
will be very likely soon to fade away into no service
at all.
And where are those binding Vows all this
time ? They are there—upon their hearts and'
consciences just as much as if they were. at the
communion ; table in their own church; never
leaving them or lifting their sacred obligations
for, an instant—calling upon them for the ':same
consecration, the same obedience, the same holy
living, the same separation from an' evil world,
the same open, fearless acknowledgment of Christ
as their Lord and Saviour, as if none but His•
loving friends were there.
Shall we thus keep our vows, fellow Chris
tians, during the coming summer, when we leave
our homes to seek health and recreation ? Shall
we faithfully remember them WHEREVER we go,
whether " among the people of the world or
the friends of the Redeemer ?" Shall we so live
under them, that they shall be a glad and willing
service, instead of a hard and wearing bon
dage ? -.-
We have no right to do other or less than this,
for we " are not our own, we are bought with a
price." All that we can offer to God in our vows
or give Him in our hearts and lives, is His al
ready by the right of creation, and ten fold more
by the right of redemption. It is the beauty
and glory of His plan, that He lets us make of
ourselves a free-will offering-.
Let us then in all solemnity and earnestness
renew our vows of consecration, and in the
strength of our God seek more faithfully to keep
theM. DORCAS HICKS.
MINISTERS' . SALARIES.
We have already written, more , than , °nee,
about the low salaries, of many of our faithful
ministers. In numerous cases the salaries have
not advanced according, to the change of the
times, and we continue to,lear of cases •of real
distress ,on .this account. This: is; especially true.
in some, of-our country, and village parishes. We
fear some of the good people are not thoughtful
enough in regard to this:matter. In every call
to a pastor,-it is , stipulated that he is to be-"free
from worldly care." How' can be be so, if his
salary regularly falls short of his most economi
cal and necessary expenses? How can he be a
successful minister,: thus fettered and embar
rassed all the time ?
But often ;it is still harder, when the salary is
not,only too small, but too slowly and too irregu
larly paid. We recently, heard of a good •and
faithful minister, whose:people were so tardy in
the payment of his small stipend, that he, finally
agreed to throw off a considerable: sum, which he
did not. know. how to spare, if they would only
pay hire: the rest, .and, continue, afterward to pay
promptly. ,They consented, and , made a good be-,
ginningg but s , it was of •nouse. ' • The old, habit,
had become - chronic. In•a short time they were
as.much in arrears as ever. They could not have
realized.what daily suffering. they were inflicting
upon their devoted pastor and.his fatally.
We heard : of another people who were well
cured oftheir dilatoriness. They called., a pas- ,
tor. Ile knew something .of their bad habits,
and , said; itt , ,a fair business way, ci My salary.must
be paid,promptly. If, at the end of the quarter,
it is not, inland, you must not expect 3a single
sermon more front me, while that is due." - •One
of i their town number, said it was the beat thing
that ever occurred for that society.. After. that
they found no difficulty in paying the salary
promptly. They only, needed to know that it
must be done, ; and,it was done.,
,We knew another clergyman •whose people
were quite in,.arrears when he was about to leave
them. < He. called upon the Trustees, but they
bad no . money for him. "No matter," he said',
"just;: give me your note, and it is the same
thing.", But they were, , quite,,surprised at the.
suggestion. They had never giv,en a note. They
were still owing the previous minister; he never
asked for note.
''But, gentlemen, you hired me, and agreed
to pay me so much for , my services. Of course,
you. will pay Irke,,by cash, ,or. by note of band,
S,)-IrPly, that is the only proper business way to
settle the, matter.", , • , .
"But, could you , not go, round, and colleet •it
yourself ? " they,asked. " Your predecessor did
50.," , • , ;
And we were told that, he took old notescof one
pan i against, another, and collected what he could
and as he, could,, and i finally, had ;to jeave, the
parish , still owing ,him considerable. His suc
cessor preferred not to, try that way ; and so he
insisted upon, the note, which was rejuctantly
given, but finally paid, principal and interest,
which, surely, was no more than the minister's
due. We cannot suppose there are many par
ishes
, disposed to treat their ministers in this
way. But from what Iwe, hear in various quar
ters, we are quite sure there are not , all the
thoughtfulness, and consideration with people
that there , should be on this subject.
JOSIAH - . BISSELL.
In the recent Semi-Centennial discourse before
the Pxesbytery of Rochester; the following men
tion was made of one !of the reinarkkble.men who
laid the foundations of the city of Rochester; and
whose name we give ab&ve. As an ' illustration
of his energy, his building'a Meeting-house in a
Week was:cited. > It was on this wise; and we
doubt if even Chicago' can match it.'
Rev. Joel Parker, a dieentiate just from the
Seminary, had commenced preaching, with great
success; in a school-house on the East side of the
river.: After, a •few Sabbaths the- place 'was toO
strait for thear,:. A. conferenoe was held on Mon.
day morning, , to see what should be done.
Most naturally it was suggested. that they should
hire; a , hall:
_Mr. Bissell said, "dNio, let us 'build
a house ,for•ourselves." OthersJsaid "Ne can
not wait for that we need! aqlace o no e."-
" But," said Mr. Bissell,," ire can build: 8:: house'
by next Sunday." They replied, " That' is im
possible." He said; " It Is 'not' impossible. If
we could make a thousand dollais • by building a:
store-house for flour: this Week, weshould. do it;
and it's a pity if we cannot do as much for our
Master as we should for ourselves." Further
objections being made he said, "Put me on the
building committee, and it shall be done—we will
worship in the new church next Sunday."
They put him on the committee, and that very
hour he began to make his contracts. He en
gaged one master mechanic, with his men, to fell
te trees (which were still standing green in the
woods), and to lay out and erect the frame; an
other set of men were to be ready to put on the
siding and roof the moment the frame was up;
and still another to go right along at the same
timei`with the floors, windows and doors • and an
other to prepare benches and pulpit. And when
he engaged each man to do his work by a given
day and, hdur, he.offered, in each case, a consid
erable 'bonus, if the man would complete his job
a few hours earlier than the time specified ; thus
working ahead of time. There are not many of
us who do' that.
There was no apparent hurry or confusion, and
yet the house was done on Saturday night, as he
piomisedi; they Worshipped in it on Sunday ; and
by his wise thoughtfulness,it was so put together,
in two separate frames, that it could easily be
separated, as it was afterward, and converted into
two dwelling-houses., Of course, it was a very
plain building, but answered its purpose well un
til a more substantial' edifice could be erected.
He was a man of mighty impulses and resist
less energy, until ant early,death transferred him
to higher .spheres and more intense activities.
He died in 1831, at forty years of age; but al
ready having lived a small century, if life be
measured, not by empty years, 'but by worthy
deeds. C. P. 13.
OLIMATE IN GEOLOGIOAL PERIODS.
One of the most startling geological revelations
nan i derti days is the demonstration, that at so
comparatively recent a period as the Miocene a
temperate.climate prevailed in the Arctic circle,
and poplars, planes; and lime trees grew within
twelve degrees of the pole. Beds of fossil-plants
of this, epoch have been found in Iceland, on the
Mackenzie River in' North Canada, in Banks
land, in North Greenland, and' in Spitsbergen.
A huntired,,and , forty-four species of flowering
plants and nine ferns have been described by
Professor.Neer. Seventy- c eight of these were
probably trees andtfty'shrUbs. There were no
less than thirty-One Conifers; among which were
four species of -Sequoia, allied , to the gigantic
Wellingtonias,of California (a group which was
abundant in Miocene times), and three of these
were - also inhabitants of Central Europe. Species
of Thujopsis , aud Salisburia, genera now found
only in Japan, inhabited Spitsbergen and North
Greenland, along with beeches, oaks, planes, pop.
lars, maples, walnuts, limes, hazels, and even a
magnolia. Among the shrubs were buckthorn,
holly, dogwood, and hawthorn ; while ivy and
vines twined - round the forest trees, and large,
broad`-leaved ferns grew beneath. their shade.
Many of the limes, plane; and oaks had very
large.leaves, and the tulip-trees and maples bore
large fruits; in some cases even the flowers are
preserved, and the specimens are so abundant
and so' perfect, that it is impossible to escape - the
conclusion that all the plants grew upon the spot,
and that the climate must have been at the very
least as mild as that of the South of New Eng
land at the present day. Yet in North Green
land an enormous glacier now covers the whole
country, leaving only a 'narrow strip of land free
from ice in summer, and no woody vegetation but
'a few dwarf willows can exist.
Here, then, we have absolute proof that the
warm climate which • Characterized the Miocene
epoch in'the north temperate zone extended into
the Arctic regions; and it is Professor }leer's
opinion that forests might then have flourished
at the North Pole itself. But although this is
by far the most striking and the most satisfacto
ry case, it is not the only - indication of a mild
'Arctic climate in past a@ es. Ammonites, B elem
and,ate Ichthyosaurns have been ound in
Oolitic rocks about ,717 ° . N.—animals which we
are, almost certain , could not have inhabited a
frozen, sea.. Coal and characteristic coal-fossils
have been found about the same latitudes. Attain,
iti the oldest Of all the formations which produce
sufficient 'organic .remains- to afford any indica
tions of climato—the Silurian—Encrinites, Cor
als, and Mollusca, have been discovered in the
Arctic regions, and seem unmistakably to indi
cate a, warm and open sea where there is now an
altnost perpetually frozen ocean.--London Quar
terly Review. _
RAIN AND HAIL MARKS.
In some of the older rocks small hemispherical
impressions are found, . which exactly resemble
the marks left on a surface of fine sandy mud by
a shower 'of rain. Circular pits of various sizes
are thus formed with a somewhat. raised rim,
and they are often all adittle deeper on one side,
showing the direction of the wind when the
droim fell which produced. them. Fine speci
mens of these rainprints were obtained by Sir
Charles Lyell hour the mud flats of the bay of
Fundy, in Nova Sccihia,,where in summer the
sun dries and hardens the ; surface so rapidly that
the succeeding time l covers them over with a
layerof sediments; arid thus effectually preserves
them. A cakeotthis dried mud can he split,
and will sometimes show the rain-marks and their
casts on two, opposite surfaces. Now the mark
ings on, certain Triassic and Carboniferous shales
of. North America correspond 'in the minutest
partidafir4 to these recent rain-prints, and even
agree with them in 'the average size and depth of
the pits, so' that we:learn t not only that rain fell
in, those; early times, but that the general atmos
pheric conditions werp so similar that the size of
the drops was aboup the' same as they are •now,
that the sun shotie'out" afterwards and hardened
the surfaoe, and'UtieWithin a few hours the tide
flawed gently ova that ancient shore and depost
p_reserving layer,,of sediment. There is a
stratum of Triassic, shales in New Jersey which
preserves layer' upon layer of these rain-prints ,
and among' them M. Redfield', 'the well-known
meteorologist, has detected curious indented sub
angular impressions: which• exactly correspond
to the marks produced by, a.
.storm of angular
hail; a most curious corroborative proof of the
striking similarity our' present climates to
those of the most ancient geological periods.—
London Quarterly Review.
C. P. 8.,
grtintatt.