The Argosy — page 70: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

| 60 from London to Salsburg. great Alpine range of mountains to the south. When Salzburg was at length reached, we found ourselves amidst a perfect intoxication of gorgeous landscape. It was indeed wonderful. The view from the windows of the Hétel de |’ Europe could never be forgotten. Below, at some little distance, lay the town, its houses shining out white and hot in the glaring sunshine. Towering on the summit of a rock, was the castle, once the residence of the archbishops, but long since dismantled of its glories of state and splendour.. Around, stretched the mountains, pile after pile, one above another, the dazzling snow a strange, unearthly sight in the midst of heat so intense. Through the town, with the speed of.a torrent, cleaving its way between the chain of Noric Alps, rushed the Salza; sweeping on past hills and vales, wooded slopes and abrupt precipices, until at length, joining the Danube, it mingled its waters with those of that ancient river. The intense, azure blue of the sky could not very easily be found in England : and the mountains caught the reflection and tinged the snow with a colour that was not of earth. Small silver threads and streams of snow here and there ran down the slopes, until, within a certain distance of the level, they melted and disappeared. Later on, the church bells rang out ; the air caught up the reverberation ; and amidst the surrounding beauty, the mysterious, fast-falling twilight, it required no vivid fancy to believe yourself listening to a chorus of far-off, un- seen spirits, guardians of the wondrous scene. This place gave birth to Mozart. Here he lived his first years, drinking in influences that filled his heart and mind with those unutterable melodies. A strange unison must have existed be- tween his spirit and his home. His love of the beautiful gloried and delighted in the perfection of nature around him: the dignity of the snow-capped, everlasting hills; always there, always the same ; always cold, grand, silent, stern, unbending ; but lovable and soul-stirring ; true and faithful. He need never doubt how he should meet them ; how they would greet him. No frown or unkind word ; no impatience or anger. More constant ever than man’s friendship. He was born in a large, old-fashioned house, in the most unromantic part of the town ; a narrow, crowded street, shut out from all beauties. After a time his parents moved to a more open spot; and from the windows of the new home, the child could look out upon the hills and wonder : could hold commune with them in the language that no doubt was even then speaking within him. In after-life he must have cast back manya thought to this early home: have roamed in spirit, in the dark night- hours, over those wonderful mountains ; down the seething torrent, its rushing sound so much music to his ears: setting all to melody, until in a wild, incomprehensible rapture he would fall asleep, and dream of a paradise and beings not of this world. econnichoolks.com —_)