enzinuititatbaus,
ENTERING SWITZERLAND BY THE
SIMPLON.-111.
From the note book of our Travelling Corres
pondent.
A mighty peak raises its snowy head right
before us, but a few miles away. Is that the
Mount Simplon ? I ask the driver. He shakes
his head no, and points with his whip far around
to the right, but the hill-side shuts out the view.
We are now nearly as high as the top of the ridges
that enclose the valley we are following. The
little stream we have followed all day is lost en
tirely. We had made up our minds that when
that happened, we should be near the highest
part of the route. Tall snow-covered peaks glis
ten all around us. The scene becomes wild, rocky,
desolate in the extreme,—the cold air chills ua
thoroughly.
What is this large building with steeple and
bell down below the road to the right ? all alone
—no houses of any kind have we passed for sev
eral miles. The old hospice we learn. Not
used now except by shepherds and herdmen—
while up here with their flocks in July and. Au
gust. How lonely the deserted place does look
—so large, so complete, so expressive in its strue
ture, and all silent and closed. The road winds
to the right, when presently a higher peak than
we have yet seen comes into view. It appears to
be of black slate rock, towering several thousand
feet above us, and rising black and bold from the
snow-beds that lie upon the slope, forming a
sharp angle against the sky. This is Monte Leone
or Mount Simplon, its summit eleven thousand
feet above the level of the sea, and nearly five
thousand feet above our road; a sublime sight it is.
THE NEW HOSPICE
The road curves toward the peak, and in a
moment the new hospice is in sight,—a large
white four story stone building, some two hundred
feet long. Napoleon founded thi*ospice, but
left it unfinished for twenty years, w the St.
Bernard monks, in 18.25, took possession and com
pleted it. The drivers all crack their whips merri
ly as we approach this resting • place, located at
the highest point of the pass. Half a dozen or
more monks in black gowns are leaning out the
windows looking at us. Several of their St.
Bernard dogs come out wagging their tails, and
as we come abreast of the building, fresh horses
are led out from the basement, through a door
under the stone stairway that leads to the main
entrance of the building.
While the horses are changing we look about
us. Back of the hospice rises in, solemn, silent
grandeur the mighty black peak of Leone ; a
great glacier rests upon its northern side, which
slopes away gently, and the glacier stretches
down covering the whole mountain range, of
which the peak is the grand upheaved spur, bro
ken off, and showing its black perpendicular wall
only on the Southern side, from which we ap
proached it.
In front of the hospice is spread a lovely
meadow of shining green grass, all spangled over
with yellow butter-cups. A familiar looking
saw-mill stands at the edge of the meadow ; a
stream from the glacier, back of the hospice,
being its motive power. To the left, beyond the
meadow, rises another snow-covered peak, the
Stadthorn, silent, cold and glittering, balancing
old Leone against the opposite sky. What a
picture, six thousand feet above the seal Smil
ing meadow, freezing snow mountains ;—sweet
golden flowers, desolation ; stately hospice, rocky
cliffs, glad dogs, saw-mill, lazy monks, and a half
dozen stages changing horses, with the great
black peak of Leone piercing the heavens for a
back ground.
Could an artist want more striking contrasts
for a single canvas ?
THE GALLERY OF THE SALTINE
Leaving the hospice, the road clinging to the
side of Monte Leone, winds in a grand semi
circle or horse-shoe for a mile or two by the edge
of an immense gorge, or ravine. The road is
level, and we fly along the curve rapidly. At
its middle point a noisy torrent comes rushing
down from the great glacier above, that stretches,
one continuous snow-bed, from the summit of
Leone for miles along the ridge, covering the
mountain like an immense white sheet. The
torrent is led over the top of the road and tum
bles in grand cascade down into the ravine be
low. We watch it while we are approaching
around the curve. As we get close to it, the road
passes into a tunnel, part of the way cut through
a projecting rock and the remainder built in
heavy masonry, arching the road. The avalan
ches from above are too continuous, so near the
torrent, to allow the road to be cut in the side of
the mountain, and this arch'is built so that the
earth, and rocks, and trees as they come sliding
down, shall shoot over the arch-way like the
stream does, and go thundering down into the
valley thousands of feet below. We saw the
pile of avalanche that had come down last, ten
thousand tons of rock, uprooted trees, and earth
tumbled and tangled in wild confusion down the
steep at our left. We pass into the dark tunnel
or " gallerie " as they call it, and presently the
stream is thundering and:roaring over our heads.
A windOw in the side of the tunnel shows the un
der side of the sheet of water within three or
four yards of us.
Emerging into the daylight again, a view
opens upon us of surpassing grandeur.
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, JUNE 24, 1869.
A GRAND GORGE
The great horse shoe around which we are
sweeping, is from half a mile to a mile across,
with the deep ravine shelving down in the cen
tre, while all around the mountains pile up, we
can't tell how high. Five or six miles away
down the gorge, and nearly a mile in depth be
low our level sits the town of Brieg to which
we are going. It forms a beautiful feature in
the sublime panorama spread out before us, so
far away, so deep down, and its white towers
coming out in exquisite relief upon the valley.
Our road will be twelve or fourteen miles long,
curving along the mountain side, several miles to
the right above the town, and returning in zig
zags to get down to it. From the edge of the
road, where the kind little granite posts bristle
along, we look down the wild gorge at our feet
to a horrid depth.of two thousand to three thou.
sand feet, the steep sides all covered with ava
lanches tumbled and heaped in wild chaos. The
stream we have just passed under, the Saltine,
leaps in grand cascade far down among the bro
ken rocks, and goes roaring and ,rushing down
the declivity in boiling foam, white as milk, as
far as we can trace it.
Beyond the little town with its spires in the
distance, runs a good-sized river iat right angles
to the gorge into which we are looking. It is
the RHONE sweeping down from its glacier home
fifteen or twenty miles above. But across the
river what a sight ! Beyond and above the
nearer range of mountains that rises from the
river side, walling in the view up to , the
very skies, and rising thousands of feet above the
level of ADur road, the Bernese Alps pile up, in
solemn, stately grandeur, all snow-covered and
glittering against the blue vault of heaven. The
sublime, the grand, the awful, the beautiful, all
burst upon the vision atnee, as this comes into
view—would that we co linger here an hour
A I
or two to take it in. 4
DOWN THE MOUNTAIN:
We gain a few moments, for the stage-driver
dismounts here and fixes and iron shoe or clog
some fifteen inches long right under the hind
wheel. It is fastened to the stage by a strong
chain, and for the next hour we slide down the
road, three wheels turning, one wheel sliding on
this shoe. The pines begin to show themselves
again, for on the opposite side of the gorge we won
der how they stand up so straight, when the
mountain side they grow upon is so' nearly per
pendicular. Presently we leave the gorge, and
turning to the right follow the morintaiiraide l
where we pass through a grove or forest of pines
so dense that views of Brieg and the• valley 'of
the Rhone are shut out.
We descend rapidly, now turning left, now
right, and are soon among vineyards again. The
evening is fast approaching. The- sun-light dies
from the long sweep of snow-clad summits across
the valley; first in tints of gold, then of rose
color, then of cold grey. We pass in the uncer
tain light a number of squafe white-washed
houses, ten or twelve feet square and about as
high, with beautiful vineyards all around them.
We learn that they are praying stations long
since erected by the owner of the vineyard, that
the Virgin to whom the prayers are 'made, may
look specially to this vineyard, and insure a good
yield of wine every year. We count no less
than twelve of them. It would cost from three
to five hundred dollars each to build thein in this
country. • '
As we approach the town, three or four metal
covered' Oar-shaped domes on the church-towers
give the place an oriental appearance. The like
we have met nowhere else. The architect, who
ever he was, a hundred or. two years ago must
have got his ideas from the Levant.
It is nearly dark as we enter the town. It is
Saturday night, and with weary eyes, weary from
seeing so' much and looking so hard, and bodies
tired with all day's staging, we sit down to a
choice supper of speckled mountain- trout, good
bread and butter, and sweet milk. We are led
up the stbne stairway inside the hotel to our
room, and are soon sleeping soundly among these
snow clad mountains, whose summits; hem us in
on every side. G. W. llf.
THE CHRISTIAN SOLUTION OF SOOIAL
PROBLEMS.
The venerable halls of the University of Penn
sylvania are moving with a new life in these days.
The place on which they are erected, was the
scene of Franklin's kite experiment, (also the
site of the first national White House,) and it
would seem as if that old experiment was being
repeated under new forms, as the electric life
pulsates with a new rapidity. .The University
has always stood among the first scientific insti
tutions of the land, just as!our city has held the
front rank in the same respect. The Quakers
have always had a firm faith in natural science,
second only to their "dependence on the Light
within." To this day the Quaker periodicals of
our city are made up of just three ingredients,—
semi-mystical theology, philanthropy and natural
science. Quaker libraries are compounded after
the same fashion, and the big two.volumed cata
logue of books written by members of the So
ciety, shows a similar predominance of scientific
works over those devoted to any other secular
subject. Who ever read a Quaker book on his
tory or the belles lettres—to say nothing ,of suCh
subjects as music and the fine arts, which G-eorge
Fox laid under the ban?
As the Quakers founded, the city built. The
geni us loci is a broad-brim, and we accept the
municipal traditions which originated in the meet
ing house, with as little hesitation as we accept
the rectangular streets and the brick and marble
house fronts bequeathed by the brethren of
Penn.
THE CITY AND SCIENCE
The result as we have hinted is that our city
is the chief scientific city of the nation. The
proceedings of some of our Scientific Societies
are heralded in the London weeklies. The medi
cal department of the University and the Jefferson
College rank respectively first and second among
the medical colleges of the country. The head
of the great " U. S. Coast Survey " was selected
from the Faculty of Arts of the University, and
we believe that other professors rendered efficient
and valuable aid in the work. The most perfect
series of meteorological observations ever taken
was at our Girard College, in the famous obser
vatory' which the City Councils have let go to
ruin since Profs. Bache and Frazer left it. When
Prof. Silliman was chogen Professor at Yale, he
came to Philadelphia to complete his studies be
fore,entering on his duties. He, indeed, taught
the New• Englanders a few things on his return,
and an imported Swiss has added somewhat to
their stock of information, but,
"They didn't know everything down in Judee."
' THE UNIVERSITY AND CULTURE.
There is, however, something higher and in a
broad view more valuable than mental acqusition,
viz.: culture. The' bread and butter" aspect of
knowledge is not the truest. And in this point
of view the University has still higher claims
upon the public, as being (with the slight excep
tion of our schools of art), the Only public insti
tution in our midst devoted to culture, or (as our
fathers called it,) to "liberal education."
The Faculty of Arts in the University is be
ginning to attract the attention which it deserves,
now that the brilliant results expected from some
other schemes are discovered . to be only in the
programme. A movement for an increased en
dowment has' secured pledges of some $150,000
from the citiiens, and while the city itself has
(like some churches) a convenient debt, to serve
as an excuseyfor want of generosity and liberality,
and so cannot afford to sell the Trustees any land
at less than its full price, there are evidences
enough that individuals are coming to appreciate
the municipal value of the institute.
MR. COLWELL'S GIFT. -
— One of tille - iias furnished on a zeowit-Sahir,_
day evening, when Fred. Fraley, Esq., in intro
ducing Dr. Mcllvaine of Princeton to an audience
assembled in the chapel, announced that Stephen
Colwell, Esq., had presented it with his unrivalled
library of 5,000 works on political economy, col
lected in two hemispheres at a cost of some $15,-
000 or $20,000, but whose value—taken as a
whole—is beyond any possible estimate. Mr.
Colwell's object is to make the University a cen
tre of sound teaching on this subject, - which is
of so :great importance to the interests of our city
and State. In conformity to his wishes, the Trus
tees have founded a "Chair of Social Science and
Kindred Subjects,P. and it is hoped that the
manufacturers of the State will give liberally for
its endowment.
DR. HVILVAINE'S LECTURE.
Dr. Wllvaine, in commencing his lecture, re
marked that this was one of the most complete
libraries on the subject that ever had been col
lected. It is not a miscellaneous collection, but
embraces a single subject, and covers the entire
literature of tbit subject in several of the leading
modern languages. It was given with a definite
purpose, that of making the subject an integral
part of the education here given.
Social Science, of which he was now to speak,
is a very wide field. It contemplates all social
(i. e., all human) life. It is a field sown full of
wild and premature theories, which like most
such theories grew out of the love of system,
which made men too impatient to examine into
all the'facts. A distribution of labor is needed in
the cultivation of this field, but in fact, it had
never been divided up for that purpose, since
every theorist chose to occupy the whole. English
writers had been the first to occupy it, and this
fact has given them a prestige which enables
them to keep possession of it yet, to a great ex
tent, and even in America. Probably John
Stuart Mill is to-day the most widely quoted au
thority on the subject. Yet English influences
have so distorted and perverted the minds of
English writers on this topic, that the greatest
care must be exercised in receiving their state
ments. He specified the following points in proof
of this.
(1.) These writers, attempt to treat political
economy—or the science of wealth,—as an inde
pendent science, when ; in fact it can only be pro
pertly discussed as a branch of social science. As
a consequence, they make,wealth everything, and
man nothing, or, at least. nothing more, than a
means to the end, which is wealth. Their prin
ciple justifies the spoiling of men for the sake of
wares to export.
.[A heresy, we note, as old as
the days of Isaiah at least. "I will make you a
man more precious than fine gold; even a man
than the golden wedge of Ophir," says the LORD.
Chap. xiii. V. 12.]
~,t : (2) The minds and theories and the.very, con
sciences of Euglish authors have been ; moulded
and perverted by the great fact of English pau
perism, which originated in the abolition of feudal
serfdom. The serfs were emancipated from the
constraint which forced them to be productive
members of society in some degree, but not edu
cated, and so sank into the rank of dangerous
and unproductive classes, becoming paupers in
great numbers. The fact was emphasized as of
significance to Americans at the present moment.
The English tried to abolish pauperism by abol
ishing the paupers. In one year of Henry VIII.,
28 ; 000 of them were hung for vagabondism.
Pauperism is the striking anomaly in Eng
lish society. What is to be done with it ? Justify
it by constructing a theoretic system, which as
cribes it not to the faults and wrong-doing and
errors of man, but to the laws of God. Like our
own institution of Slavery, this Pauperism has
been a moulder of the minds, the sensibilities, the
consciences of men. And how do these writers justi
fy it ? By asserting that the human procreative
power is so much greater than the earth's produc
tive power that, in the long run, the food must be
come too few for the mouths. This is Ricardo's
theory of rent. It rests on suppositions which
are coolly assumed as facts,—such as that in the
settlement of any country, the new settlers will
always bring the best lands first under cultiva
tion, and as the country fills up, the worse lands
will be occupied last, and thus a given amount
of labor will meet with a smaller return. What
is the fact in this case ? Just the opposite of
the theory. As illustrated in a broad way by
the settlement of our own country—the barren,
cold, rocky lands, as of New England, are first
Occupied; afterwards the broad, rich prairies and
the fertile bottom lands which must be drained
before sowing. The first settler is weak in his
loneliness; but every accession to the num
bers is an increase of his power over nature,
because it is an increase of cooperation. The
experience of every colony would show that the
facts are just the opposite of the English as
sumptions, that the increase of the number of
liven make life the more valuable and labor more
profitable.
The ground had first been
. surveyed by a
Philadelphian, Henry C. Carey, and all the as
sumptions on which Ricardo's theory is based,
were shown by him to be groundless. That the
importance of this issue might not be judged to
be exaggeraged, he quotes John Stuart Mill's
statement, that if the law were , otherwise, the
whole of political economy would be the reverse
of what it is. The law is otherwise, and politi
cal economy is just the reverse of what the
English represent it.
- - h ew: , corn_
pelled to admit that the facts, as given in the
returns furnished within the present century, do
not bear out the theory. How do they explain
this ? By asserting that the law is thus and so,
but that its inevitable effects have been averted
by the influence of exceptional causes, such as
the progress of civilization, which by making
man more the master of nature, has enabled
him to extort from her exceptionally larger re
turns. Here it is coolly assumed that the pro
gress of civilization is an exceptional fact, not a
law to be relied on; that, in fact, the law is bar
barism and relapse, the exception is civilization
and progress
SOCIETY AN ORGANISM
He quoted from Godwin's " Political Jus
tice" an impassioned protest against such hor
rible and virtually atheistic theories, and
passed on to the discussion of the distinctively
Christian aspect of the subject. Social science
would—when properly cultivated, furnish the
great final argument for the truth of Christianity.
The great scientific conception of society pre
sented in the New Testament—and especially by
the most scientific of the Apostles, Paul—fur
nishes a basis for the discussion of the whole sub
ject. Society is a body—an organism, a sta4-
ment preeminently true of the Christian Churc h
but true also of the national societies which'
Providence has established on the earth. From
this simple fact, could be drawn, by analogy, all
the essential truths of Social Science. Society
has a right to control its organs (individuals), for
the good of the whole, whatever Free Traders
may say of letting things alone. Society is
bound to cherish, educate and employ its or
gans ; the duty of obedience on their part im
plies the correlative right to labor and live. The
lecturer touched on the education 'given by our
public schools, and the necessity of giving it
more of an industrial character. The organism
is more perfect, in proportion to, the subdivis
ions of its organs and their work. A. polyp is
but a stomach, while a man stands at the top of
the scale because of his highly complex or
ganic structure. So the social plan, which
sets all classes to the single work of pro
ducing raw materials, as our anti-tariff men pro
pose, is trying to take us back to the condition of
Ireland, where the simplicity of employment
brings every man, into antagonistic competition
with his neighbor,'and by this single repulsive
force scatters, her people over the world in search
of work, whereas a just division of employment
would' unite them in prosperity. In the present
system they cannot even command what their
country actually produces. Food was exported
from Ireland in immense amounts in the very
year of the famine.
The interests of society cannot safely be left
to take care of themselves. They must be
guarded and protected by general laws, and by
educational influence, which shall dispel scepti
cism, elicit interest and quicken thought.
Dr. ilicilvaine, as already announced, h as
been elected to the new chair of Social Science,
and we hope that
.he will see his way clear to its
acceptance. ON THE WING.
REV. A. M. STEWART'S LETTERS,—N O ,
%XXIV.
"Far out upon the Prairie."
While yet our so late national struggle for ex
istence raged to its culmination, this place was
our Western Ultima Thule—save on the Pacific
—the far away, poetic region of civilization ; be
yond which only the hardy adventurer, the
trapper, the hunter, or the overland tourist ven
tured. Four years ago it was a merovillage,
numbering some three thousand mixed people.
Now it is a city of twenty-five thousand inhabi
tants, with all the appliances and intensities
of American travel, trade, manufacture and com
merce.
It would be a misnomer, under our present
condition of trade and travel, to call this or any
other city inland, by which runs a navigable
river, and through which railroads course. For
situation, Omaha stands very beautifully, al
ready rising far up on the banks and bluffs on
the sun setting side of the Missouri, and nest
ling among beautiful groves of young timber.
" The Father of Waters," would seem more ap
plicable to the Missouri than the Mississippi,
hurrying past this place its floodtide of mud-red
waters, which afford navigation for steamboats
for two thousand miles above and two thousand
below. Council Bluffs, on the opposite side
the river in lowa, is a rival institution. But in
our western march of empire, when towns or cities
are divided by rivers, the western division al
most invariably excels. The adjacent section
and region beyond, so fast settling, are wonder
fully fertile, and these, with the longest naviga
ble river in the world, would have made Omaha
in time a city of some note. Like many others,
however, in our country, it has been hurried
into importance by that wonderfully modern
civilizer and equalizer—the railroad.
Here is the starting point' westward for the
Great Union Pacific Railroad. The accumula
tion and transfer of material within the past
three years, for more than a thousand miles of
continuous track, would of itself, demand the
combined energies of a small city. Hence,
Omaha has, within this short period, increased
twenty thousand: The workshops of the road
here are expanding to the employment of twelve
hundred workmen.
The jammed and lumberifyg nh o .av
here in all its ancient glory and import
ance. The impression is now generally given the
public ihrough the press, that there is continuous
rail from New York to Sacramento. This is not
precisely true. The great River, with its muddy
waters, rolling between Council Bluffs and
Omaha, Nebraska, has not yet been bridged.
Passengers, freight, everything have to cross by
ferry. There are omnibuses at both sides of the
river. And this must continue for a year or
more. A bridge has been commenced which
is to cost two millions of dollars, and to be so
massive and of such magnitude as not to be com
pleted within a single season.
RELIGIOUS CONDITION
If Henry Ward Beecher be an oracle on
Church influences, "That divisions give strength
and efficiency," then should the people of Omaha
be all speedily converted and in the way of
sanctification. Nearly all our modern sects are
represented here; the Catholic Church having
the most costly and permanent building and
largest membership, as is its wont; a New School
Presbyterian with an embryo Old School Church;
three Episcopal churches with a bishop ; two
Methodist churches; one Congregational;
Baptist, Lutheran, Campbellite, and Scandina
vian.
The New School congregation, Brother Dim
mick, Pastor, is well organized and in good
working order. . Worship is now held in the
basement of anew and beautiful edifice, soon to
be completed at a cost of thirty five thousand dol
lars. Thirty thousand of this has already been
'raised and other five is to be forthcoming before
the dedication. Good.
INTERVAL.
Since crossing the Missouri river, last Feb
ruary, the intervening months have been spent
in eastern cities and places, in considering
church interests and in happy communings
with friends;'during which time, dear Editor,
you have not heard'from me by letter. The in
terests and incidents of those eastern matters
seemed too near your editorial sanctum and be
neath your personal vision for me to write about,
though never so interesting as then. Being
thits far back towards the Pacific side, you have
this running sketch, and hereafter may expect to
hear regularly 'of matters, persons, things and
places, which may interest myself, and with the
hope that they may interest your 'readers.
OMAHA, Nebraska, Tune, 1869. •
—A great deal has been published latels'
about the adulteration of liquors; but a promin
ent liquor dealer wrote in self-defence, The
only poison in the drinks I make and sell, is the
alcohol itself." We commend this honest testi
mony to those gentle Men who are furnishing
their tables with pure liqUor. Is' not alcohol
the "adder" of which Solomon writes ?