I LITTLE RUDY
LET us visit Switzerland，and wander through the glorious land of mountains， where the forests cling to the steep walls of rock；let us mount up to the dazzling snowfields， and then descend into the green valleys through which rivers and brooks are rushing，hurrying on as if they could not reach the sea and disappear there quickly enough．The sun looks hotly down upon the deep valley， and it glares likewise upon the heavy masses of snow， so that they harden in the course of centuries into gleaming blocks of ice， or form themselves into falling avalanches， or become piled up into glaciers．Two such glaciers lie in the broad rocky gorges under the “Schreckhorn” and the “Wetterhorn”， by the little mountain town of Grindelwald：they are wonderful to behold， and therefore in the summertime many strangers come from all parts of the world to see them．The strangers come across the lofty snow－covered mountains， they come through the deep valleys and in this latter case they must climb for several hours， and， as they climb， the valley seems to be descending behind them，deeper and deeper，and they look down upon it as out of a balloon． Above them the clouds often hang like thick heavy veils of smoke over the mountain－tops，while a sunbeam still penetrates into the valley， through which the many brown wooden houses lie scattered，making one particular spot stand forth in shining transparent green． Down there the water hums and gushes，while above， it purls and ripples and looks like silver bands fluttering down the mountain．
On both sides of the road that leads uphill，stand wooden houses．Each has its potato patch；and this is a necessity， for there are many little mouths in those cottages—plenty of children are there， who can eat up their share right heartily．They peep forth everywhere，and gather round the traveller， whether he be on foot or in a carriage．All the children here carry on a trade：the little people offer carved houses for sale， models of those that are built here in the mountains．In rain or in sunshine，there are the children offering their wares．
About twenty years ago， a little boy might often be seen standing there， anxious to carry on his trade，but al-ways standing a short distance away from the rest． He would stand there with a very grave face， holding his little box with the carved toys so firmly in both hands that it seemed as if he would not let it go on any account．This appearance of earnestness， together with the fact of his being such a little fellow，often attracted the notice of strangers；so that he was very frequently beckoned forward，and relieved of a great part of his stock， without himself knowing why this preference was shown him． A couple of miles away， in the mountains， lived his grandfather， who carved the pretty little houses；and in the old man's room stood a wooden cupboard filled with things of that kind—carved toys in abundance， nutcrackers， knives and forks，boxes adorned with carved leaves and with jumping chamois，all kinds of things that delight children's eyes；but the boy， Rudy was his name，looked with greater longing at an old rifle that hung from the beam under the ceiling，for his grandfather had promised him that it should be his one day， when he should have grown tall and strong enough to manage it properly．
Young as the boy was， he had to keep the goats ； and if ability to climb with his flock makes a good goat－herd，then Rudy was certainly an efficient one， for he even climbed a little higher than the goats could mount，and loved to take the birds’ nests from the high trees．A bold and courageous child he was， but he was never seen to smile， save when he stood by the foaming water-fall or heard an avalanche crashing down the mountain－side． He never played with the other children，and only came in contact with them when his grandfather sent him down the mountain to deal in carved toys；and this was a business Rudy did not exactly like． He preferred clambering about alone among the mountains，or sitting beside his grandfather and hearing the old man tell stories of the old times， or of the people in the neighbouring town of Meiringen，his birthplace．The old man said that the people who dwelt in that place had not been there from the beginning：they had come into the land from the far north， where their ancestors dwelt， who were called Swedes．And Rudy was very proud of knowing this．But he had others who taught him something，and these others were companions of his belonging to the animal creation． There was a great dog ，whose name was Ajola，and who had belonged to Rudy's father；and a Tom Cat was there too； this Tom Cat had a special significance for Rudy，for it was Pussy who had taught him to climb．
“ Come with me out on the roof，” the Cat had said，quite distinctly and plainly，to Rudy；for，you see，children who cannot talk yet，can understand the language of fowls and ducks right well， and cats and dogs speak to them quite as plainly as Father and Mother can do；but that is only when the children are very little， and then，even Grandfather's stick will be－come a perfect horse to them，and can neigh，and，in their eyes，is furnished with head and legs and tail． With some children this period ends later than with others and of such we are accustomed to say that they are very backward， and that they have remained children a long time．People are in the habit of saying many strange things．
“Come out with me on to the roof，”was perhaps the first thing the Cat had said and that Rudy had understood．“What people say about falling down is all fancy：one does not fall down if one is not afraid．Just you come， and put one of your paws thus and the other thus． Feel your way with your fore－paws． You must have eyes in your head and nimble limbs；and if an empty space comes， jump over， and then hold tight as I do．”
And Rudy did so too； consequently he was often found seated on the top of the roof by the cat； and afterwards he sat with him in the tree－tops，and at last was even seen seated on the edge of the cliff， whither Puss did not go．
“Higher up ！”said Tree and Bush． “Don't you see how we climb？ How high we reach，and how tight we cling， even to the narrowest， loftiest ridge of rock！”
And Rudy climbed to the very summit of the mountain，frequently reaching the top before the sun touched it，and there he drank his morning draught of fresh mountain air， the draught that the bountiful Creator above can pre－pare，and the recipe for making which， according to the reading of men， consists in mingling the fragrant aroma of the mountain herbs with the scent of the wild thyme and mint of the valley．All that is heavy is absorbed by the brooding clouds， and then the wind drives them along，and rubs them against the tree－tops， and the spirit of fragrance is infused into the air to make it lighter and fresher， ever fresher．And this was Rudy's morning draught．
The sunbeams， the blessing－laden daughters of the sun， kissed his cheeks，and Giddiness， who stood lurking by，never ventured to approach him； but the swallows，who had no less than seven nests on his grandfather's roof，flew round about him and his goats， and sang，“We and ye！ We and ye！”They brought him a greeting from home， even from the two fowls， the only birds in the house， but with whom Rudy never became at all intimate．
Small as he was，he had been a traveller，and for such a little fellow he had made no mean journey．He had been born over in the Canton of Wallis， and had been carried across the high mountains to his present dwelling． Not long ago he had made a pilgrimage on foot to the “ Staubbach”or “Dust Fountain”， which flutters through the air like a silver tissue before the snow－covered dazzling white mountain called the “Jungfrau” or “Maiden”．He had also been in the Grindelwald，at the great glacier；but that was a sad story．His mother had met her death there； and there， said Grandfather，little Rudy had lost his childlike cheerfulness． When the boy was not a year old his mother had written concerning him that he laughed more than he cried， but from the time when he sat in the ice cleft，an－other spirit came upon him． His grandfather seldom talked of it， but the people through the whole mountain region knew the story．
Rudy's father had been a postilion．The great dog that lay in grandfather's room had always followed him in his journeys over the Simplon down to the Lake of Geneva．In the valley of the Rhone， in the Canton of Wallis，lived some relatives of Rudy on the father's side．His uncle was a first-rate chamois hunter and a well－known guide．Rudy was only a year old when he lost his father，and the mother now longed to return with her child to her relatives in the Oberland of Berne．Her father lived a few miles from Grindelwald； he was a wood－carver， and earned enough to live on．Thus， in the month of June，carrying her child，and accompanied by two chamois hunters， she set out on her journey home， across the Gemmi towards Grindelwald．They had already gone the greater part of the way，had crossed the high ridge as far as the snow－field，and already caught sight of the valley of home， with all the well－known wooden houses， and had only one great glacier to cross． The snow had fallen freshly， and concealed a cleft which did not indeed reach to the deep ground where the water gushed，but was still more than six feet deep．The young mother，with her child in her arms，stumbled，slipped over the edge， and vanished． No cry was heard， no sigh，but they could hear the crying of the little child． More than an hour elapsed before ropes and poles could be brought up from the nearest house for the purpose of giving help，and after much exertion what appeared to be two corpses were brought forth from the icy cleft．Every means was tried；and the child， but not the mother， was recalled to life；and thus the old grandfather had a daughter's son brought into his house，an orphan， the boy who had laughed more than he cried；but it seemed that a great change had taken place in him， and this change must have been wrought in the glacier cleft， in the cold wondrous ice world， in which，according to the Swiss peasants' belief， the souls of the wicked are shut up until the last day．
The glacier lies stretched out，a foaming body of water stiffened into ice， and as it were pressed together into green blocks，one huge lump piled upon another；from beneath it the rushing stream of melted ice and snow thunders down into the valley，and deep caverns and great clefts extend below．It is a wondrous glass palace，and within dwells the Ice Maiden，the Glacier Queen．She，the death－dealing， the crushing one， is partly a child of air， partly the mighty ruler of the river； thus she is also able to raise herself to the summit of the snow mountain，where the bold climbers are obliged to hew steps in the ice before they can mount； she sails on the slender fir twig down the rushing stream， and springs from one block to another， with her long snow－white hair and her blue-green garment fluttering around her and glittering like the water in the deep Swiss lakes．
“To crush and to hold， mine is the power！”she says．“They have stolen a beautiful boy from me， a boy whom I have kissed， but not kissed to death． He is again among men： he keeps the goats on the mountains， and climbs upward， ever higher，far away from the others，but not from me．He is mine，and I will have him！”
And she bade Giddiness do her errand， for it was too hot for the Ice Maiden， in summer， in the green woods where the wild mint grows； and Giddiness raised herself and came down；and her sisters went with her，for she has many sisters，a whole troop of them；and the Ice Maiden chose the strongest of the many who hover without and within．These spirits sit on the staircase railing and upon the railing at the summit of the tower；they run like squirrels along the rocky ridge，they spring over railing and path，and tread the air as a swimmer treads the water，luring their victims forth，and hurling them down into the abyss．Giddiness and the Ice Maid－en both grasp at a man as a polypus grasps at everything that comes near it． And now Giddiness was to seize up－on Rudy．
“Yes， but to seize him，”said Giddiness，“is more than I can do．The cat， that wretched creature，has taught him her tricks．That child a particular power which thrusts me away；I am not able to seize him， this boy，when he hangs by a bough over the abyss．How gladly would I tickle the soles of his feet，or thrust him head over heels into the air！［But I am not able to do it．］”
We shall manage to do it，”said the Ice Maiden．“Thou or I—I shall do it—I！”
“No， no！” sounded a voice around her，like the echo of the church bells among the mountains；but it was a song； it was the melting chorus of other spirits of nature—of good affectionate spirits—the Daughters of the Sunshine．These hover every evening in a wreath about the summits of the mountains； there they spread forth their roseate wings，which become more and more fiery as the sun sinks， and gleam above the high mountains． The people call this the “Alpine glow”．And then，when the sun has set，they retire into the mountain summits， into the white snow， and slumber there until the sun rises again，when they appear once more．They are especially fond of flowers，butterflies， and human beings；and among these latter they had chosen Rudy as an especial favourite．
“You shall not catch him—you shall not have him，”they said．
“I have caught them larger and stronger than he，”said the Ice Maiden．
Then the Daughters of the Sun sang a song of the wanderer whose mantle the storm carried away．
“The wind took the covering，but not the man．Ye can seize him， but not hold him， ye children of strength． He is stronger， he is more spiritual than even we are．He will mount higher than the sun，our parent． He possesses the magic word that binds wind and water，so that they must serve him and obey him． You will but loosen the heavy oppressive weight that holds him down， and he will rise all the higher．”
Gloriously swelled the chorus that sounded like the ringing of the church bells．
And every morning the sunbeams pierced through the one little window into the grandfather's house， and shone upon the quiet child． The Daughters of the Sun－beams kissed the boy； they wanted to thaw and remove the icy kisses which the royal maiden of the glaciers had given him when he lay in the lap of his dead mother in the deep ice cleft，from whence he had been saved as if by a miracle．
Ⅱ THE JOURNEY TO THE NEW HOME
Rudy was now eight years old．His uncle，who dwelt beyond the mountains in the Rhone valley， wished that the boy should come to him to learn something and get on in the world； the grandfather saw the justice of this，and let the lad go．
Accordingly Rudy said good－bye． There were others besides his grandfather to whom he had to say farewell； and foremost came Ajola， the old dog．
“Your father was the postilion and I was the post dog，”said Ajola；“we went to and fro together；and I know some dogs from beyond the mountains， and some people too．I was never much of a talker； but now that we most likely shall not be able to talk much longer together，I will tell you a little more than usual．I will tell you a story that I have kept to myself and ruminated on for a long while． I don't understand it，and you won't understand it， but that does not signify： this much at least I have made out， that things are not quite equally divided in the world， either for dogs or for men．Not all are destined to sit on a lady's lap and to drink milk： I've not been accustomed to it， but I've seen one of those little lap dogs，driving in the coach， and taking up a passenger's place in it； the lady，who was its mistress， or whose master it was， had a little bottle of milk with her， out of which she gave the dog a drink；and she offered him sweetmeats， but he only sniffed at them， and would not even accept them， and then she ate them up herself．I was running along in the mud beside the carriage，as hungry as a dog can be，chewing my own thoughts，that this could not be quite right；but they say a good many things are going on that are not quite right．Should you like to sit in a lady's lap and ride in a coach？I should be glad if you did．But one can't man-age that for oneself． I never could manage it，either by barking or howling．
These were Ajola's words；and Rudy embraced him and kissed him heartily on his wet nose；then the lad took the Cat in his arms， but Puss struggled，saying，
“You're too strong for me，and I don't like to use my claws against you！ Clamber away over the mountains，for I have taught you how to climb．Don't think that you can fall，and then you will be sure to maintain your hold．”
And so saying the Cat ran away，not wishing Rudy to see that the tears were in his eyes．
The Fowls were strutting about in the room．One of them had lost its tail．A traveller who wanted to be a sportsman had shot the Fowl's tail away， looking upon the bird as a bird of prey．
“Rudy wants to go across the mountains，” said one of the Fowls．
“He's always in a hurry，” said the other，“and I don't like saying good－bye．”
And with this they both tripped away．
To the Goats he also said farewell；and they bleated“Meek！ meek！” which made him feel very sorrowful．
Two brave guides from the neighbourhood，who wanted to go across the mountains to the other side of the Gemmi，took him with them，and he followed them on foot．It was a tough march for such a little fellow，but Rudy was a strong boy，and his courage never gave way．
The Swallows flew with them for a little distance．“We and ye！ We and ye！” sang they．The road led across the foaming Lutschine，which pours forth in many little streams from the black cleft of the Grindelwald glacier and fallen trunks of trees and blocks of stone serve for a bridge．When they had reached the forest opposite，they began to ascend the slope where the glacier had slipped away from the mountain，and now they strode across and around ice blocks over the glacier．Rudy sometimes had alternately to crawl and to walk for some distance：his eyes gleamed with delight，and he trod so firmly in his spiked climbing－shoes that it seemed as if he wished to leave a trace behind him at every footstep．The black earth which the mountain stream had strewn over the glacier gave the great mass a swarthy look，but the bluish－green glassy ice nevertheless peered through．They had to make circuits round the numerous little lakes which had formed among the great blocks of ice，and now and then they passed close to a great stone that lay tottering on the edge of a crack in the ice，and sometimes the stone would overbalance，and roll crashing down， and a hollow echo sounded forth from the deep dark fissures in the glacier．
Thus they continued climbing，The glacier itself ex－tended upwards like a mighty river of piled－up ice masses，shut in by steep rocks．Rudy thought for a moment of the tale they had told him， how he and his mother had lain in one of these deep，cold－breathing fissures； but soon all such thoughts vanished from him，and the tale seemed to him only like many others of the same kind which he had heard．Now and then， when the men thought the way too toilsome for the little lad，they would reach him a hand； but he did not grow tired， and stood on the smooth ice as safely as a chamois．Now they stepped on the face of the rock，and strode on among the rugged stones； sometimes，again， they marched among the pine trees， and then over the pasture grounds，ever seeing new and changing landscapes． Around them rose snow－clad mountains， whose names the “Jungfrau”，the “M nch”，the“Eiger”，were known to every child，and consequently to Rudy too．Rudy had never yet been so high；he had never yet stepped on the outspread sea of snow：here it lay with its motionless snowy billows，from which the wind every now and then blew off a flake，as it blows the foam from the waves of the sea． The glaciers stand here，so to speak hand in hand； each one is a glass palace for the Ice Maiden，whose might and whose desire it is to catch and to bury．The sun shone warm，the snow was dazzlingly white and seemed strewn with bluish sparkling diamonds．Numberless insects，especially butterflies and bees，lay dead upon the snow；they had ventured too high，or the wind had carried them up until they perished in the frosty air．Above the Wetterhorn hung， like a bundle of fine black wool， a threatening cloud；［it bowed down，teeming with the weight it bore，］ the weight of a whirlwind， irresistible when once it bursts forth．The impressions of this whole journey—the night encampment in these lofty regions，the further walk，the deep rocky chasms，where the water has pierced through the blocks of stone by a labour，at the thought of whose duration the mind stands still—all this was indelibly impressed upon Rudy's recollection．
A deserted stone building beyond the snow sea offered them a shelter for the night．Here they found fuel and pine branches，and soon a fire was kindled， and the bed arranged for the night as comfortably as possible．Then the men seated themselves round the fire，smoked their pipes，and drank the warm refreshing drink they had prepared for themselves．Rudy received his share of the supper；and then the men began telling stories of the mysterious beings of the Alpine land：of the strange gigantic serpents that lay coiled in the deep lakes；of the marvellous company of spirits that had been known to carry sleeping men by night through the air to the wonderful floating city， Venice；of the wild shepherd who drove his black sheep across the mountain pastures， and how， though no man had seen him， the sound of the bell and the ghostly bleating of the flock had been heard by many．Rudy listened attentively， but without any feeling of fear，for he knew not what fear meant；and while he listened he seemed to hear the hollow，unearthly bleating and lowing；and it became more and more audible，so that presently the men heard it too， and stopped in their talk to listen， and told Rudy he must not go to sleep．
It was a “F hn”， the mighty whirlwind that hurls itself from the mountains into the valley， cracking the trees in its strength as if they were feeble reeds， and carrying the wooden houses from one bank of a river to the other as we move the figures on a chessboard．
After the lapse of about an hour，they told Rudy it was all over， and he might go to sleep；and tired out with his long march， he went to sleep as at the word of command．
Very early next morning they resumed their journey． This day the sun shone on new mountains for Rudy， on fresh glaciers and new fields of snow： they had entered the Canton of Wallis， and had proceeded beyond the ridge which could be seen from the Grindelwald； but they were still far from the new home．Other chasms came in view， new valleys，forests， and mountain paths， and new houses also came into view， and other people． But what strange－looking people were these！ They were deformed，and had fat， sallow faces； and from their necks hung heavy，ugly lumps of flesh， like bags： they were crétins， dragging themselves languidly along，and looking at the strangers with stupid eyes； the women especially were hideous in appearance．Were the people in his new home like these？
Ⅲ UNCLE
Thank Heaven！The people in the house of Rudy's uncle，where the boy was now to live，looked like those he had been accustomed to see； only one of them was a crétin， a poor idiotic lad，one of those pitiable creatures who wander in their loneliness from house to house in the Canton of Wallis， staying a couple of months with each family．Poor Saperli happened to be at Rudy's uncle's when the boy arrived．
Uncle was still a stalwart huntsman，and， moreover， understood the craft of tub－making； his wife was a little lively woman with a face like a bird's． She had eyes like an eagle， and her neck was covered with a fluffy down．
Everything here was new to Rudy—costume，manners， and habits， and even the language； but to the latter the child's ear would soon adapt itself．There was an appearance of wealty here，compared with grandfather's dwelling．The room was larger， the walls were ornamented with chamois horns， among which hung polished rifles，and over the door was a picture of the Madonna，with fresh Alpine roses and a lamp burning in front of it．
As already stated，uncle was one of the best chamois hunters in the whole country， and one of the most trusted guides． In this household Rudy was now to become the pet child． There was one pet here already in the person of an old blind and deaf hound， who no longer went out hunting as he had been used to do；but his good qualities of former days had not been forgotten，and therefore he was looked upon as one of the family and carefully tended．Rudy stroked the dog， who，how－ever， was not willing to make acquaintance with a stranger； but Rudy did not long remain a stranger in that house．
“It is not bad living， here in the Canton of Wallis，”said Uncle；“and we have chamois here， who don't die out so quickly as the steinbock；and it is much better here now than in former days．They may say what they like in honour of the old times， but ours are better，after all：the bag has been opened， and a fresh wind blows through our sequestered valley．Something better always comes up when the old is worn out， he continued．And when uncle was in a very communicative mood，he would tell of his youthful years，and of still earlier times， the strong times of his father， when Wallis was， as he expressed it， a closed bag， full of sick people and miserable crétins．“But the French soldiers came in， he said，“and they were the proper doctors， for they killed the disease at once， and they killed the people who had it too． They knew all about fighting，did the French， and they could fight in more than one way． Their girls could make conquests too，”and then uncle would laugh and nod to his wife， who was a Frenchwoman by birth．“The French hammered away at our stones in famous style！ They hammered the Simplon road through the rocks—such a road that I can now say to a child of three years，‘Go to Italy，only keep to the high road，’ and the child will arrive safely in Italy if it does not stray from the road．”
And then uncle would sing a French song， and cry “Hurrah for Napoleon Bonaparte！”
Here Rudy for the first time heard them tell of France and Lyons， the great town on the Rhone， where his uncle had been．
Not many years were to elapse before Rudy should become an expert chamois hunter； his uncle said he had the stuff for it in him， and accordingly taught him to handle a rifle，to take aim，and shoot；and in the hunting season he took the lad with him into the mountains and let him drink the warm blood of the chamois，which cures the huntsman of giddiness；he also taught him to judge of the various times when the avalanches would roll down the mountains， at noon or at evening，according as the sunbeams had shone upon the place； he taught him to notice the way the chamois sprang，that Rudy might learn to come down firmly on his feet；and told him that where the rocky cleft gave no support for the foot， a man must cling by his elbows， hips， and legs， and that even the neck could be used as a support in case of need．The chamois were clever， he said——they posted sentinels； but the hunter should be more clever still——keep out of the line of scent，and lead them astray；and one day when Rudy was out hunting with uncle， the latter hung his coat and hat on the alpenstock， and the chamois took the coat for a man．
The rocky path was narrow；it was， properly speaking， not a path at all， but merely a narrow shelf beside the yawning abyss．The snow that lay here was half thawed， the stone crumbled beneath the tread，and there－fore uncle laid himself down and crept forward．Every fragment that crumbled away from the rock fell down，jumping and rolling from one ledge of rock to another un－til it was lost to sight in the darkness below About a hundred paces behind his uncle， stood Rudy， on a firm projecting point of rock； and from this station he saw a great vulture circling in the air and hovering over uncle，whom it evidently intended to hurl into the abyss with a blow of its wings， that it might make a prey of him．Uncle's whole attention was absorbed by the chamois，which was to be seen， with its young one， on the other side of the cleft．Rudy kept his eyes on the bird．He knew what the vulture intended to do， and accordingly stood with his rifle ready to fire； when suddenly the chamois leaped up：uncle fired，and the creature fell pierced by the deadly bullet； but the young one sprang away as if it had been accustomed all its life to flee from danger．Startled by the sound of the rifle， the great bird soared away in another direction，and uncle knew nothing of the danger in which he had stood until Rudy informed him of it．
As they were returning homeward， in the best spirits，uncle whistling one of the songs of his youth，they suddenly heard a peculiar noise not far from them；they looked around，and there on the declivity of the mountain，the snowy covering suddenly rose，and began to heave up and down，like a piece of linen stretched on a field when the wind passes beneath it．The snow waves，which had been smooth and hard as marble slabs，now broke to pieces，and the roar of waters sounded like rumbling thunder．An avalanche was falling，not over Rudy and uncle， but near where they stood， not at all far from them．
“Hold fast，Rudy！” cried uncle，“ hold fast with all your strength．
And Rudy clung to the trunk of the nearest tree．Uncle clambered up above him，and the avalanche rolled past，many feet from them； but the concussion of the air， the stormy wings of the avalanche， broke trees and shrubs all around as if they had been frail reeds， and scattered the fragments headlong down．Rudy lay crouched upon the earth， the trunk of the tree to which he clung was split through，and the crown hurled fa............