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<h2> CHAPTER XXX </h2>
<h3> [Harris Climbs Mountains for Me] </h3>
<p><br/></p>
<p>An hour's sail brought us to Lucerne again. I judged it best to go to bed
and rest several days, for I knew that the man who undertakes to make the
tour of Europe on foot must take care of himself.</p>
<p>Thinking over my plans, as mapped out, I perceived that they did not take
in the Furka Pass, the Rhone Glacier, the Finsteraarhorn, the Wetterhorn,
etc. I immediately examined the guide-book to see if these were important,
and found they were; in fact, a pedestrian tour of Europe could not be
complete without them. Of course that decided me at once to see them, for
I never allow myself to do things by halves, or in a slurring, slipshod
way.</p>
<p>I called in my agent and instructed him to go without delay and make a
careful examination of these noted places, on foot, and bring me back a
written report of the result, for insertion in my book. I instructed him
to go to Hospenthal as quickly as possible, and make his grand start from
there; to extend his foot expedition as far as the Giesbach fall, and
return to me from thence by diligence or mule. I told him to take the
courier with him.</p>
<p>He objected to the courier, and with some show of reason, since he was
about to venture upon new and untried ground; but I thought he might as
well learn how to take care of the courier now as later, therefore I
enforced my point. I said that the trouble, delay, and inconvenience of
traveling with a courier were balanced by the deep respect which a
courier's presence commands, and I must insist that as much style be
thrown into my journeys as possible.</p>
<p>So the two assumed complete mountaineering costumes and departed. A week
later they returned, pretty well used up, and my agent handed me the
following:</p>
<p>Official Report</p>
<p>OF A VISIT TO THE FURKA REGION.</p>
<p>By H. Harris, Agent</p>
<p>About seven o'clock in the morning, with perfectly fine weather, we
started from Hospenthal, and arrived at the <i>maison</i> on the Furka in a
little under <i>quatre</i> hours. The want of variety in the scenery from
Hospenthal made the <i>Kahkahponeeka</i> wearisome; but let none be discouraged;
no one can fail to be completely <i>r'ecompens'ee</i> for his fatigue, when he
sees, for the first time, the monarch of the Oberland, the tremendous
Finsteraarhorn. A moment before all was dullness, but a <i>pas</i> further has
placed us on the summit of the Furka; and exactly in front of us, at a
<i>hopow</i> of only fifteen miles, this magnificent mountain lifts its
snow-wreathed precipices into the deep blue sky. The inferior mountains on
each side of the pass form a sort of frame for the picture of their dread
lord, and close in the view so completely that no other prominent feature
in the Oberland is visible from this <i>bong-a-bong</i>; nothing withdraws the
attention from the solitary grandeur of the Finsteraarhorn and the
dependent spurs which form the abutments of the central peak.<br/> <br/>
<br/> <br/></p>
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<p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
<p>With the addition of some others, who were also bound for the Grimsel, we
formed a large <i>xhvloj</i> as we descended the <i>steg</i> which winds round the
shoulder of a mountain toward the Rhone Glacier. We soon left the path and
took to the ice; and after wandering amongst the crevices <i>un peu</i>, to
admire the wonders of these deep blue caverns, and hear the rushing of
waters through their subglacial channels, we struck out a course toward
<i>l'autre cravasse</i> and crossed the glacier successfully, a little above
the cave from which the infant Rhone takes its first bound from under the
grand precipice of ice. Half a mile below this we began to climb the
flowery side of the Meienwand. One of our party started before the rest,
but the <i>hitze</i> was so great, that we found <i>ihm</i> quite exhausted, and lying
at full length in the shade of a large <i>gestein</i>. We sat down with him for a
time, for all felt the heat exceedingly in the climb up this very steep
<i>bolwoggoly</i>, and then we set out again together, and arrived at last near
the Dead Man's Lake, at the foot of the Sidelhorn. This lonely spot, once
used for an extempore burying-place, after a sanguinary <i>battue</i> between the
French and Austrians, is the perfection of desolation; there is nothing in
sight to mark the hand of man, except the line of weather-beaten whitened
posts, set up to indicate the direction of the pass in the <i>owdawakk</i> of
winter. Near this point the footpath joins the wider track, which connects
the Grimsel with the head of the Rhone <i>schnawp</i>; this has been carefully
constructed, and leads with a tortuous course among and over <i>les pierres</i>,
down to the bank of the gloomy little <b>swosh-swosh</b>, which almost washes
against the walls of the Grimsel Hospice. We arrived a little before four
o'clock at the end of our day's journey, hot enough to justify the step,
taking by most of the <i>partie</i>, of plunging into the crystal water of the
snow-fed lake.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
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<p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
<p>The next afternoon we started for a walk up the Unteraar glacier, with the
intention of, at all events, getting as far as the Hutte which is
used as a sleeping-place by most of those who cross the Strahleck Pass to
Grindelwald. We got over the tedious collection of stones and <i>d�bris</i>
which covers the <i>pied</i> of the <i>gletcher</i>, and had walked nearly three hours
from the Grimsel, when, just as we were thinking of crossing over to the
right, to climb the cliffs at the foot of the hut, the clouds, which had
for some time assumed a threatening appearance, suddenly dropped, and a
huge mass of them, driving toward us from the Finsteraarhorn, poured down
a deluge of <i>haboolong</i> and hail. Fortunately, we were not far from a very
large glacier-table; it was a huge rock balanced on a pedestal of ice high
enough to admit of our all creeping under it for <i>gowkarak</i>. A stream of
<i>puckittypukk</i> had furrowed a course for itself in the ice at its base, and
we were obliged to stand with one <i>fuss</i> on each side of this, and endeavor
to keep ourselves <i>chaud</i> by cutting steps in the steep bank of the
pedestal, so as to get a higher place for standing on, as the <i>wasser</i> rose
rapidly in its trench. A very cold <i>bzzzzzzzzeee</i> accompanied the storm, and
made our position far from pleasant; and presently came a flash of
<i>blitzen</i>, apparently in the middle of our little party, with an
instantaneous clap of <i>yokky</i>, sounding like a large gun fired close to our
ears; the effect was startling; but in a few seconds our attention was
fixed by the roaring echoes of the thunder against the tremendous
mountains which completely surrounded us. This was followed by many more
bursts, none of <i>welche</i>, however, was so dangerously near; and after
waiting a long <i>demi</i>-hour in our icy prison, we sallied out to talk through
a <i>haboolong</i> which, though not so heavy as before, was quite enough to give
us a thorough soaking before our arrival at the Hospice.</p>
<p>The Grimsel is <i>certainement</i> a wonderful place; situated at the bottom of a
sort of huge crater, the sides of which are utterly savage <i>gebirge</i>,
composed of barren rocks which cannot even support a single pine <i>arbre</i>,
and afford only scanty food for a herd of <i>gmwkwllolp</i>, it looks as if it
must be completely <i>begraben</i> in the winter snows. Enormous avalanches fall
against it every spring, sometimes covering everything to the depth of
thirty or forty feet; and, in spite of walls four feet thick, and
furnished with outside shutters, the two men who stay here when the
<i>voyageurs</i> are snugly quartered in their distant homes can tell you that
the snow sometimes shakes the house to its foundations.</p>
<p>Next morning the <i>hogglebumgullup</i> still continued bad, but we made up our
minds to go on, and make the best of it. Half an hour after we started,
the <i>regen</i> thickened unpleasantly, and we attempted to get shelter under a
projecting rock, but being far to <i>nass</i> already to make standing at all <i>agr�able</i>,
we pushed on for the Handeck, consoling ourselves with the reflection that
from the furious rushing of the river Aar at our side, we should at all
events see the celebrated <i>wasserfall</i> in <i>grande perfection</i>. Nor were we
<i>nappersocket</i> in our expectation; the water was roaring down its leap of
two hundred and fifty feet in a most magnificent frenzy, while the trees
which cling to its rocky sides swayed to and fro in the violence of the
hurricane which it brought down with it; even the stream, which falls into
the main cascade at right angles, and <i>toutefois</i> forms a beautiful feature
in the scene, was now swollen into a raging torrent; and the violence of
this "meeting of the waters," about fifty feet below the frail bridge
where we stood, was fearfully grand. While we were looking at it, <i>gl�ecklicheweise</i>
a gleam of sunshine came out, and instantly a beautiful rainbow was formed
by the spray, and hung in mid-air suspended over the awful gorge.</p>
<p>On going into the <i>chalet</i> above the fall, we were informed that a <i>bruecke</i>
had broken down near Guttanen, and that it would be impossible to proceed
for some time; accordingly we were kept in our drenched condition for <i>ein
stunde</i>, when some <i>voyageurs</i> arrived from Meiringen, and told us that there
had been a trifling accident, <i>aber</i> that we could now cross. On arriving at
the spot, I was much inclined to suspect that the whole story was a ruse
to make us <i>slowwk</i> and drink the more at the Handeck Inn, for only a few
planks had been carried away, and though there might perhaps have been
some difficulty with mules, the gap was certainly not larger than a <i>mmbglx</i>
might cross with a very slight leap. Near Guttanen the <i>haboolong</i> happily
ceased, and we had time to walk ourselves tolerably dry before arriving at
Reichenback, <i>so</i> we enjoyed a good <i>din�r</i> at the Hotel des Alps.<br/>
<br/> <br/> <br/></p>
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<p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
<p>Next morning we walked to Rosenlaui, the <i>beau id�al</i> of Swiss
scenery, where we spent the middle of the day in an excursion to the
glacier. This was more beautiful than words can describe, for in the
constant progress of the ice it has changed the form of its extremity and
formed a vast cavern, as blue as the sky above, and rippled like a frozen
ocean. A few steps cut in the <i>whoopjamboreehoo</i> enabled us to walk
completely under this, and feast our eyes upon one of the loveliest
objects in creation. The glacier was all around divided by numberless
fissures of the same exquisite color, and the finest wood-<i>erdbeeren</i> were
growing in abundance but a few yards from the ice. The inn stands in a
<i>charmant</i> spot close to the <i>Cot� de la rivi�re</i>,
which, lower down, forms the Reichenbach fall, and embosomed in the
richest of pine woods, while the fine form of the Wellhorn looking down
upon it completes the enchanting <i>bopple</i>. In the afternoon we walked over
the Great Scheideck to Grindelwald, stopping to pay a visit to the Upper
glacier by the way; but we were again overtaken by bad <i>hogglebumgullup</i> and
arrived at the hotel in a <i>solche</i> a state that the landlord's wardrobe was
in great request.</p>
<p>The clouds by this time seemed to have done their worst, for a lovely day
succeeded, which we determined to devote to an ascent of the Faulhorn. We
left Grindelwald just as a thunder-storm was dying away, and we hoped to
find <i>guten wetter</i> up above; but the rain, which had nearly ceased, began
again, and we were struck by the rapidly increasing <i>froid</i> as we ascended.
Two-thirds of the way up were completed when the rain was exchanged for
<i>gnillic</i>, with which the <i>boden</i> was thickly covered, and before we arrived
at the top the <i>gnillic</i> and mist became so thick that we could not see one
another at more than twenty <i>poopoo</i> distance, and it became difficult to
pick our way over the rough and thickly covered ground. Shivering with
cold, we turned into bed with a double allowance of clothes, and slept
comfortably while the wind howled <i>autour de la maison</i>; when I awoke, the
wall and the window looked equally dark, but in another hour I found I
could just see the form of the latter; so I jumped out of bed, and forced
it open, though with great difficulty from the frost and the quantities of
<i>gnillic</i> heaped up against it.</p>
<p>A row of huge icicles hung down from the edge of the roof, and anything
more wintry than the whole <i>anblick</i> could not well be imagined; but the
sudden appearance of the great mountains in front was so startling that I
felt no inclination to move toward bed again. The snow which had collected
upon <i>la f�netre</i> had increased the <i>finsterniss oder der dunkelheit</i>,
so that when I looked out I was surprised to find that the daylight was
considerable, and that the <i>balragoomah</i> would evidently rise before long.
Only the brightest of <i>les �toiles</i> were still shining; the sky was
cloudless overhead, though small curling mists lay thousands of feet below
us in the valleys, wreathed around the feet of the mountains, and adding
to the splendor of their lofty summits. We were soon dressed and out of
the house, watching the gradual approach of dawn, thoroughly absorbed in
the first near view of the Oberland giants, which broke upon us
unexpectedly after the intense obscurity of the evening before.
"<i>Kabaugwakko songwashee kum wetterhorn snawpo</i>!" cried some one, as that
grand summit gleamed with the first rose of dawn; and in a few moments the
double crest of the Schreckhorn followed its example; peak after peak
seemed warmed with life, the Jungfrau blushed even more beautifully than
her neighbors, and soon, from the Wetterhorn in the east to the
Wildstrubel in the west, a long row of fires glowed upon mighty altars,
truly worthy of the gods.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
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<p><br/> <br/> <br/> <br/></p>
<p>The <i>wlgw</i> was very severe; our sleeping-place could hardly be <i>distingue�</i>
from the snow around it, which had fallen to a depth of a <i>flirk</i> during the
past evening, and we heartily enjoyed a rough scramble <i>en bas</i> to the
Giesbach falls, where we soon found a warm climate. At noon the day before
Grindelwald the thermometer could not have stood at less than 100 degrees
Fahr. in the sun; and in the evening, judging from the icicles formed, and
the state of the windows, there must have been at least twelve <i>dingblatter</i>
of frost, thus giving a change of 80 degrees during a few hours.</p>
<p>I said:</p>
<p>"You have done well, Harris; this report is concise, compact, well
expressed; the language is crisp, the descriptions are vivid and not
needlessly elaborated; your report goes straight to the point, attends
strictly to business, and doesn't fool around. It is in many ways an
excellent document. But it has a fault—it is too learned, it is much
too learned. What is '<i>dingblatter</i>'?</p>
<p>"'<i>Dingblatter</i>' is a Fiji word meaning 'degrees.'"</p>
<p>"You knew the English of it, then?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yes."</p>
<p>"What is '<i>gnillic</i>'?</p>
<p>"That is the Eskimo term for 'snow.'"</p>
<p>"So you knew the English for that, too?"</p>
<p>"Why, certainly."</p>
<p>"What does '<i>mmbglx</i>' stand for?"</p>
<p>"That is Zulu for 'pedestrian.'"</p>
<p>"'While the form of the Wellhorn looking down upon it completes the
enchanting <i>bopple</i>.' What is '<i>bopple</i>'?"</p>
<p>"'Picture.' It's Choctaw."</p>
<p>"What is '<i>schnawp</i>'?"</p>
<p>"'Valley.' That is Choctaw, also."</p>
<p>"What is '<i>bolwoggoly</i>'?"</p>
<p>"That is Chinese for 'hill.'"</p>
<p>"'<i>kahkahponeeka</i>'?"</p>
<p>"'Ascent.' Choctaw."</p>
<p>"'But we were again overtaken by bad <i>hogglebumgullup</i>.' What does
'<i>hogglebumgullup</i>' mean?"</p>
<p>"That is Chinese for 'weather.'"</p>
<p>"Is '<i>hogglebumgullup</i>' better than the English word? Is it any more
descriptive?"</p>
<p>"No, it means just the same."</p>
<p>"And '<i>dingblatter' and 'gnillic,' and 'bopple,' and 'schnawp</i>'—are
they better than the English words?"</p>
<p>"No, they mean just what the English ones do."</p>
<p>"Then why do you use them? Why have you used all this Chinese and Choctaw
and Zulu rubbish?"</p>
<p>"Because I didn't know any French but two or three words, and I didn't
know any Latin or Greek at all."</p>
<p>"That is nothing. Why should you want to use foreign words, anyhow?"</p>
<p>"They adorn my page. They all do it."</p>
<p>"Who is 'all'?"</p>
<p>"Everybody. Everybody that writes elegantly. Anybody has a right to that
wants to."</p>
<p>"I think you are mistaken." I then proceeded in the following scathing
manner. "When really learned men write books for other learned men to
read, they are justified in using as many learned words as they please—their
audience will understand them; but a man who writes a book for the general
public to read is not justified in disfiguring his pages with untranslated
foreign expressions. It is an insolence toward the majority of the
purchasers, for it is a very frank and impudent way of saying, 'Get the
translations made yourself if you want them, this book is not written for
the ignorant classes.' There are men who know a foreign language so well
and have used it so long in their daily life that they seem to discharge
whole volleys of it into their English writings unconsciously, and so they
omit to translate, as much as half the time. That is a great cruelty to
nine out of ten of the man's readers. What is the excuse for this? The
writer would say he only uses the foreign language where the delicacy of
his point cannot be conveyed in English. Very well, then he writes his
best things for the tenth man, and he ought to warn the nine other not to
buy his book. However, the excuse he offers is at least an excuse; but
there is another set of men who are like <i>you</i>; they know a <i>word</i> here and
there, of a foreign language, or a few beggarly little three-word phrases,
filched from the back of the Dictionary, and these are continually
peppering into their literature, with a pretense of knowing that language—what
excuse can they offer? The foreign words and phrases which they use have
their exact equivalents in a nobler language—English; yet they think
they 'adorn their page' when they say <i>strasse</i> for street, and <i>bahnhof</i> for
railway-station, and so on—flaunting these fluttering rags of
poverty in the reader's face and imagining he will be ass enough to take
them for the sign of untold riches held in reserve. I will let your
'learning' remain in your report; you have as much right, I suppose, to
'adorn your page' with Zulu and Chinese and Choctaw rubbish as others of
your sort have to adorn theirs with insolent odds and ends smouched from
half a dozen learned tongues whose <i>a-b abs</i> they don't even know."</p>
<p>When the musing spider steps upon the red-hot shovel, he first exhibits a
wild surprise, then he shrivels up. Similar was the effect of these
blistering words upon the tranquil and unsuspecting Agent. I can be
dreadfully rough on a person when the mood takes me.<br/> <br/> <br/>
<br/></p>
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