But Ever And Anon Drawing,
With A Half Shiver, A Little Closer To The Roaring Fagots In The
Chimney, I Thought To Myself, "And This Is Our Midsummer Nights'
Dream"!
LETTER XXXVI.
Dear: -
During breakfast, we were discussing whether we could get through the
snow to Mont St. Bernard. Some thought we could, and some thought not.
So it goes here: we are gasping and sweltering one hour, and plunging
through snow banks the next.
After breakfast, we entered the _char-a-banc_, a crab-like,
sideway carriage, and were soon on our way. Our path was cut from the
breast of the mountain, in a stifling gorge, where walls of rock on
both sides served as double reflectors to concentrate the heat of the
sun on our hapless heads. To be sure, there was a fine foaming stream
at the bottom of the pass, and ever so much fine scenery, if we could
have seen it; but our chars opened but one way, and that against the
perpendicular rock, close enough, almost, to blister our faces; and
the sun beat in so on our backs that we were obliged to have the
curtain down. Thus we were as uncognizant of the scenery we passed
through as if we had been nailed up in a box. Nothing but the
consideration that we were travelling for pleasure could for a moment
have reconciled us to such inconveniences. As it was, I occasionally
called out to C., in the back carriage, to be sure and take good care
of the fur coat; which always brought shouts of laughter from the
whole party.
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