The
Catholic To His Mass, The Jew To His Sacrifice.'
I then rose from my meal, saluted him, and went musing up the valley
road, pondering upon what it
Could be that the Jews sacrificed in this
remote borough, but I could not for the life of me imagine what it
was, though I have had a great many Jews among my friends.
I was now arrived at the head of this lovely vale, at the sources of
the river Moselle and the base of the great mountain the Ballon
d'Alsace, which closes it in like a wall at the end of a lane. For
some miles past the hills had grown higher and higher upon either
side, the valley floor narrower, the torrent less abundant; there now
stood up before me the marshy slopes and the enormous forests of pine
that forbid a passage south. Up through these the main road has been
pierced, tortuous and at an even gradient mile after mile to the very
top of the hill; for the Ballon d'Alsace is so shaped that it is
impossible for the Moselle valley to communicate with the Gap of
Belfort save by some track right over its summit. For it is a mountain
with spurs like a star, and where mountains of this kind block the end
of main valleys it becomes necessary for the road leading up and out
of the valley to go over their highest point, since any other road
over the passes or shoulders would involve a second climb to reach the
country beyond.
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