I Was Never More Impressed By The St. Gothard Than
On The Occasion Already Referred To When I Crossed It
In winter.
We went in sledges from Hospenthal to Airolo, and I remember
thinking what splendid fellows the postillions and
Guards and men
who helped to shift the luggage on to the sledges, looked; they
were so ruddy and strong and full of health, as indeed they might
well be - living an active outdoor life in such an air; besides,
they were picked men, for the passage in winter is never without
possible dangers. It was delightful travelling in the sledge. The
sky was of a deep blue; there was not a single cloud either in sky
or on mountain, but the snow was already deep, and had covered
everything beneath its smooth and heaving bosom. There was no
breath of air, but the cold was intense; presently the sun set upon
all except the higher peaks, and the broad shadows stole upwards.
Then there was a rich crimson flush upon the mountain tops, and
after this a pallor cold and ghastly as death. If he is fortunate
in his day, I do not think any one will be sorry to have crossed
the St. Gothard in mid-winter; but one pass will do as well as
another.
Airolo, at the foot of the pass on the Italian side, was, till
lately, a quiet and beautiful village, rising from among great
green slopes, which in early summer are covered with innumerable
flowers.
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