The Argosy — page 338: what you’re looking at

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

An Eventful Ffourney to Rome. 315 before starting by the eleven o’clock express for Macon. ‘There we enjoyed a good supper and some excellent wine in a little inn near the station ; and, better still, obtained six hours’ sleep in bed—the only time we were between the sheets until our arrival in Rome. Leaving Macon at six in the morning, we began the ascent of the mountain from San Michel about three in the afternoon. At that period, before the tunnel was made, a single line on a novel principle, called Fell’s Railway, crossed Mont Cenis. Our train consisted of one first-class saloon carriage only; and we numbered fourteen passengers, ourselves being the only English. There was not a great deal of snow on the French side of the pass, and everything went well at the beginning. It was dark before we arrived at the Grande Croix, the last station near the summit. We had some hot wine there, and felt very comfortable, little dreaming what was in store for us. But soon after, we perceived the engine had some difficulty in forcing its way through the snow, and occasionally came to a full stop. However, we still forced ahead, although slowly, not anticipating anything of a serious nature. We were congratulating ourselves that the worst was probably over, and that we should descend the mountain safely, when suddenly the engine ran into five feet of snow, half burying the train behind It. Two of the guards entered the carriage, bringing with them a shower of drift, which covered us with minute particles of ice. They announced the impossibility of proceeding further. ‘¢ But what are we to do?” we cried. ‘Chi lo sa?” and a shrug of the shoulders was all the answer we received. ‘The engine was embedded in the snow (which was rapidly extinguishing the fires) and could not move either way. To stay in the carriage was out of the question. ‘The hot water in the foot-pans would shortly become lumps of ice, and the wind was drifting the snow in such quantities as to make it extremely likely that our fate was to be buried alive. I went outside the carriage door for a moment, to see for myself the aspect of affairs, but was up to the middle in snow directly I stepped from the Rein Beis: ‘and the cold was so intense that I could scarcely face the wind and drift even for afew moments. Fortunately for us, the train had been stopped near Refuge No. 2; and after some delay (my wife being carried by the driver of the engine, who, curiously enough, proved to be a Scotchman, from Edinburgh) we all got safely housed within a hut about twelve feet square. A small stove was placed near the centre of the room, in which we quickly lit a fire and made a circle round it, discussing our pro- spects, and the necessity of breaking up the few benches and stools which comprised the sole furniture of the Refuge, in the event of our small supply of wood failing. In this wretched hut, with the temperature outside far below zero, we spent eighteen hours without food. Luckily I had plenty of COMICOOOKS.C©