The Argosy — page 332: what you’re looking at

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

Over the Spliigen. | 311 at its tremendous precipices which seem as if they would close on any traveller who is so presumptuous as to attempt to make a way through them. It is not a cheerful scene; not even when, as was the case the day we were there, the sun is shining with all its brilliancy and the sky is of a deep, clear blue. Looking up from its depths we seem to be shut out from the world, to be piercing our way through the bowels of the earth. The long tunnel, called the Verlorenes Loch, is more dismal still ; it is narrow, long and dark, and every sound re-echoes from its walls. - As we turn and gaze at the ruined castle of Realt and the beautiful valley of Domschleg, lying bright in the sunshine, it is like taking a farewell of life. This is a charming picture with its frame of black rocks and its fringe of dark pine trees, but the tunnel is damp and we dare not linger long. We pass out and look over the precipice at the young Rhine—the only living thing, it seems, as it hurries on eager to be free, anxious to play its part in the world, and to bear its burden as a noble river should. At the second bridge, one of the most striking objects, we sit on the broad parapet to rest. We can scarcely see the river now, and the cliffs almost meet overhead. It is strange, indeed, that anyone should have thought of making a road through such a cleft as this ; and we speculate, as we look around us, on how it came to be done, and talk of the scenes that have taken place along the pass, and wonder at the daring and courage of the men of old. “Who,” questions Lucy, “would think of bringing an army through here in these times ?” and we proceed to discuss the changes that have taken place in modern artillery, and other subjects of which we are equally ignorant. This parapet, with its broad stone facing, is a great comfort to Lucy, who is apt to turn giddy on an unprotected precipice. Now she sits tranquil and enjoys a scene which to her is new and strange. Our driver, Anton, is an intelligent young fellow, and very attentive ; he is much discomforted that it is only possible for him to com- municate with Lucy through me, as Lucy does not understand German. He is, I see plainly, much struck with Lucy’s beauty, and as he cannot address her, tries to make up for it by plucking flowers and offering them to her whenever we stop. Lucy accepts these expressions of good-will with great good-nature, and smiles her thanks, supremely unconscious of the havoc a glance from her blue eyes makes on the poor man’s susceptible heart. We did not hurry ourselves, for we had arranged to stay the night at the village of Splugen. I did not expect to find good accommodation there: one rarely does in the smaller inns on the mountain passes ; but in view of the advantage of affording proper rest to the invalid, we were prepared to accept a few disagreeables. Later on I certainly regretted that I had not pushed on that night to Chiavenna—but [I must not anticipate. What befell us the next morning might EGOMIIGIOOKS (CO)