Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, December 26, 1894, Page 6

THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 26, 1894, CLIMBING THE MATTERHORN A TFeat Requiring en Abundance of Strength, Wind and Nerve, BEARDING ~ DEATH IN HIS DN Tho Descont FEasier on the Moles Harder on the Nerves Than the Ascent—Thrilling Description of the Towering Peak, but (Copyright, 1801, by 8. 8 McClure, Limited.) Eight times Bdward Whymper strove to as- cend Matterhorn, and cight times he failed. The ninth time he succeeded, T July 14, 186 But the cost of su appalling. In the little Zermatt chy last summer I saw the victims; the mountain crags never sur- rendered the bones of the fourth, Until Mr. Whympe:'s ccessful ascent no feot, except perhaps an eagle's, had ever pressed the proud head of that incomparable mountain, The best and bravest guides in the Alps had in vain essayed to win it. Switzerland was pitted against Italy in the strife to be first at the summit. But no experience taught sufficient skill and no courage ws complete enough to achleve vic- tory oyer the giant. Prof. Tyndall, whose summer playground was Switzerland, had mo:e than once made the attempt, but, re- colling from the menace of the final preci- plee, had at last given it up. Ten thousand feet that wonderful peak towers above the high green meadows of Zer- matt and 14,800 feet above sea level, and in eviry foot of its stature there is defiance; deflance to gravitation to pull it down—but gravitation will do it in the end—defianc vegetation to cast a shred of covering o its gaunt shoulders, deflance to man and the mountain goat to scale its precipices; yet the former has accipted the challenge and won, though the latter Is too wisely prudent to attempt the impossibl FIRST ASCENT OF THE MATTERHORN. 1 shall not undertake to recall here the story of the first ascent of the Matterhorn; 1 merely wish ta recall the circumstances of the dreadful accident that attended it, the most tragic in the force of its appeal to the imagination that the annals of mountaineer- ing contain, ~ The party consisted of seven men—Edward Whymper, then already well known as an Alpine climber; Rev. Charles Hudson, vicar of Skillington, Kent, a cele- brated amateur mountaineer; Lord Francis Douglas, who was not without considerable experience in mountain work; Douglas Rob- ert Hadow, a young undergraduate of Cam- bridge university, whose greatest feat of mountaineering hitherto had been the ascent of Mont Blan, a tiresome but not a difficult undertaking; Michael Croz, one of the best guides of his day; Peter Tangwalder, also an experieaced guide, and young Peter Tang- walder, then comparatively new to his pro- fession. On attempting to descend, after enjoying their well-won triumph on the summit, and when they had arrived at a point just above the brink of the awful precipice that falls three-quarters of a mile down to the cradle of the Matterhorn glacier, Mr. Hadow, it scems, lost his nerve. Croz, the guide, was below him cutting steps, and then tak- ing hold of Mr. Hadow's feet in order to set thém, one by one, into their proper places. All seven were tied together with a rops, and those above—the iast one being Mr. Whymper, who was about 100 feet behind Croz—were waiting for the leaders to de- scend a step or two before moving down themselves. As Croz turned, after placing Mr, Hadow in position, the latter slipped and knocked Croz from his foothold. The jerk on the rope Instantly dragged Rev. Mr. Hudson and Lord Francls Douglas from their places. Croz in falling uttered a warning cry, and Mr. Whymper and the two Tang- walders gripped such projections of the rocks a8 were within their reach, and braced them- selves for the shock. The rope being taut between them, the strain came upon the three together and they held fast, but the rope broke In midair, between the elder Tangwalder and Lord Francls Douglas. “For a few seconds,” says Mr. Whymper, “we saw our unfortunate companions sliding fownward on thelr backs, and spreading out - ROUS POSITION. 1s end:avoring to save themselves, They passcd from our sight uninjured, dis- appeared one by one, and fell from precipice 1o precipice on to the Matterhorn gletscher a distance of nearly 4,000 feet in their ha The survivors, appalled by what they had bebeld, remained for half an hour motion- less and clinging to the face of the moun- tain. The guides, Mr. Whymper says, were unnerved and afraid to descend further. Finally they cautiously moved downward, fxing ropes to the rocks to aid them, but for two hours they were in constant peril of death. Soveral times, Mr. Whymper says, ‘0ld Peter turned with ashy face and fal- tering lNmbs and said with terrible empha sls, ‘I cannot!' " The bodies of Croz, Rev, Mr. Hudson and Mr. Hadow were found on the Matterhorn glacer, but that of Lord Francls Douglas re- mained somewhere among the precipices above. Peter Tangwalder (the young Peter of Mr. Whymper's narrative, but ‘now himself an eld- erly man, and with the exception of Mr.Whym- per the only remaining survivor of the famous catastrophe) pointed out to me the place where, (wenty-nine years ago, the fatal slip had occurred, while we clung to the same grim brow of the mountain on the 6th of August last. A CEREMONIOUS GETTING READY. 1 had arrived in Zermatt on Saturday night, August 4. Early on Sunday morning a8 I came from the breakfast room of the Mont Cervin, I met the conclerge of the hotel, and said to him: “I am going to climb the Matterhorn. Where shall 1 look for guides?” He stared at me for a moment, and then, pointing to the hotel office, i have to see Mr. Seiler abo Evidently he did not regard fsing candidato for Alpine hoonrs, but having mo pretensions in that direction 1 was not oftended. Entering the office 1 found Mr. Ogsch, the secrelary, who at once took an nterest in wy project. He laid it before Mr. ller, and the latter, leaving his breakfast, came to cross examine me. He began by ssking me it I had had much experience in the high Alps. I replied to, but.l had spent # Bight on the top of Pike's Peak in Amer- the graves of three of | | are buried th fca, which was almost as lofty as the Matter horn, 1 di not add that I had ridden up Pike's Peak in a rallroad car, and that people ascend It every day on mule back. It 1 had told him that, perhaps 1 should not have climbed the Matterhorn. But it was not with any intent to deceive him that I with- held the information, for 1 supposed that he only wished to know if I could endure the effects of the rare atmosphere at great ele- vatlons. Still he demurred a little, and adyised me to try some less difficult peak at first, and 8o approach by degrees the attempt on the Matterhorn, But 1 fnsisted that I had no time to walt to be trained; besides, the air had just cleared after two or three days of rain in the valleys and snow upon the moun- tains, and the opportunity of good weather should not be thrown away. The beauty of the morning was perfect. The little valley was a cup of sunshine. The white peaks on its brim stood out against the bright blue sky In silhouettes of snow I strolled along the narrow, stony street to the old church where worshippers were thronging in, and the sound of solemn music stealing out floated sweet upon the quiet air. Conspicuous among the tombstones on one side side of the church yard was a granite cross bearing the name of Michel Croz, erected to his memory, as the inscrip- tion recorded, by his fellow guides and cans tonmen of Valals, On the opposite side of the church, in a sunny nock of the eastern wall, T found the tomb of Rev. Mr. Hudson and Mr. Hadow. Near them, side by side, e other vietims of the preci- pices. Across from the Mont Cervin hotel, on a grassy knoll surrounded with a garden of Alpine plants, stands the English church, and ranged along its west wall s still a third row of fombs commemorating other adven- turors who aspired to scale those mighty helghts and passed instead the precipice of eternity, MAKING A START. Returning to the hotel 1 found my guides ready to depart, and delighted on learn- ing that Peter Tangwalder was to be the leader. The other guide was Bmil Graven, a stout young mountaineer of growing reputa- tion. We started off at once for the hotel on the Schwartzee highland, where 1 was to procure provisions for the party and woolen stockings and _mittens for myself. On our arrival there the guides provided themselves each with a bundle of fagots, for at the cabane on the Hornll, where we proposed to pass the night, we should be far above the line of vegetation and well within that of per- petual snow, and fire would be indispensable. The Hornli is a kind of projecting foot of the Matterhorn. From it a shattered ridge runs down toward Zermatt, dividing two deep valleys choked with ice. The cabane, erected by the Alpine club on the upper extremity of the Hornli ridge, is constructed of slabs of stone, and stands amid snow on the verge of a precipitous slope. Its elevation is about 10,800 feet above sea level. It Is furnished with an old stove, sleeping platforms, and woolen blankets, At the cabane, which we reached about 5:30 p. m., the guides made tea and we partook of a frugal supper. It was too chilly to linger long outside studying the magnificent view, and before 9 o'clock I was wrapped in my blanket and trying to sleep. But sleep was not easily wooed with the ice-cold air pinching one's nose and thoughts of the morrow rising unbidden in the mind, Shortly after 2 o'clock in the morning the guides were astir preparing breakfast and at 2:30 we stepped out upon the snow, the rope was unrolled, and the middle of it was tied around my waist. Each of the guides then attached himself to one of the ends, Tang- walder before and Graven behind me. I don't know how a_criminal led to execution feels, but I know how I felt when this suggestive proceeding was finished. There was as yet no indication of coming duy. The heavens were cloudless, and the Matterhorn, rising athwart the Milky Way, seemed to hang In the sky, blotting out the stars. Picking up a lantern Tangwalder led the way around a corner of the stone hut and out upon an almost level stretch of 800w, from which our feet awoke a low musi- cal humming in the tense, frosty air. Al- most before I was aware of it we were tread- ing on the edge of a precipice which seemed in the darkness of abyssmal depth, while the crusted snow that curled over its brink fre- quently broke under our welght. The first time this. thing happened the impression flashed across my mind that I was dropping through a snow roof projecting from the precipice like the eaves of a house. How- ever, there was no use in shrinking away from the verge, for the snow fleld was up- tilted in such a manner that on the oppo- site side It ran steeply down into a gulf of black obscurity. ON THE FACE OF A CLIFF. Presently we turned to the left, quitted the snow, and in a moment were out on the face of a cliff, clinging to crags and ledges with the upper edge of a glacier dimly visible far beneath us. I had been in a rather Jaunty mood heretofore, but thls experience sobered my mind in an instant. We worked our way diagonally across the cliff until we reached a higher part of the glacier that rose to our level, and then stepped out upon the ice. Here for the first time I heard the ring of an ice ax cutting steps. It was like the first shot of the enemy to a new re- cruit. This portion of the glacier was steep and smooth, and the lamplight occasionally revealed a huge crack, or one of those round holes called moulins, into which a person failing would disappear as in a_ well. For a considerable distance we ascended on the back of the glacier, but presently the moun- tain became too steep for the ice to get a grip upon it, and then we took to the crags again, now climbing directly upward, now working to the right or left around vertical places, My Inexperience made the rope a source of considerable perplexity to me, for it was con- tinually getting tangled with my feet, while my hands were fully employed above. Then in”crawling sideways on the front of a preci- pice It was sometimes jneccssary, while hanging on with fingers and toes, to crouch in order to save one's head from knocking against projections above. At such times I found the rope particularly troublesome, al- though it would have afforded my only chance for life if I had fallen. But after an hour or two I acquired a little skill in managing it. Climbing in such places by the dim and uncertain light of a lantern was also some- what trying, and I was glad when, at last, a gray dawn broke upon the rocks, and Tang- walder blew out his lantern and placed it in a crevice to be picked up on our return. Now, at least, one could see what was below and above him, THE HARDEST CLIMB STILL TO COME. When day began we were high up on the eastern face of the mountain, that which is seen from Zermatt, the Riffel, and the Gor- nergrat. But the hardest work was yet before us. Glancing up at the peak I saw it shining in the morning sun, and apparently as far away and Inaccessible as the gilded apex of a thunder cloud. The immense ridge, or arete, the continuation of the Homli that runs down like a great wall between the Furggen glacler on one side and the Matterhoru glacler on the other, was an amazing sight. It is crowned with impossi- ble-looking turrets which, at first glance, seemed actually to be hanging over our heads 1,000 feet above. It was hatd to per- suade one's self that they were not abont to fall headlong and inyolve the entire moun- tainside In their ruln, Yet I knew that that feroclous ridge, hacked and split and wrenched into fantastic and terrifying shapes, would presently become our only pathway to the top of the Matterhorn. It was just under this ridge that we passed the old cabin of the Alpine club, now abandoned aud filled to the door with blue ice. Higher, we left the face of the mount and got upon the crest of the arete. Iere were places where one bad to balvize hin- selt carefully, while the fatigue resultlog from the coustant use of every limb did not, to say the least, Increase one’s coutrol over his muscles. 1t Is a simple matter 15 stand on & ledge only a few inches broad when it ¢ near the ground; bt put your ledge alove cloud level, get up on it out of breath, lst veoid rpace yewr around your feet, and rocollect that it is only the friction cf 3 fingers against the projecting rocks beside you and above your head that retalns you where you are, and you wili find that a very entertaining metaphysical element has en- tered into the problem of how to keep the center of gravity within the base. “Where 15 the worst place?” 1 inquired sev~ eral tim “Not yet, uot ye lder is the worst THE FEARFUL “SHOULDER. Every visitor to Zermatt will remembsr seelng a_curlous kuob near the middie of was the reply the upper part of the Matterhorn, which ap- pears Lo project from the side of the woun- ‘Ofthe musie Wil De the [DICS. TTIRI BIZE W CEMS. Al UrUEEU tain, belng dark underneath and white with [nn means of shelter snow on top. The guldes call this the “shoulder.”” It Is a fearful spot. We ap- proached it by ascending a steep slope of snow resting upon ice, which, In turn, lay upon rock that seemed too smooth to hold it. Having clambered upon the end of the shoul- der overhanging the tremendous precipice seen from Zermatt, we were compelled to turn to the left, for ahead of us everything dropped out of sight. This maneuver brought us upon something that I can only describe as a great knife edge of the moun- tain, rising sheer out of precipitons depths and connecting the ar:te we had just quitted with the main mass of the upper part of the peak. This marvellous ridge, which is also a portion of the shoulder, is composed of broken rock, cemented with fce, and tipped with scallops of snow as translucent as porce- lain and beautifully molded by the wind The rock on the top was in some places but a few inches wide, and the hard snow cap- ping It ran to a sharp edge, and had fre- quently to be broken off in order to make room for the hands and feet. Sometimes on my feet, sometimes on my hands and knees, and sometimes outside 1 got across. THE WORST OF ALL THE PRECIPICES. But when we had attained the further end of the ridge our situation was not improved. We had come up against the face of the worst of all the precipices, that which runs like a coronet round the very brow of the mountain, Here the rock had very few projec- tions upon_ it, nothing that could be called ledges, and to the eye glancing upward it seemed impossible that anybody could climb upon so smocth a wall, and one, moreover, which glistened in many places with a cover- ing of thin, transparent ice. Yet climb it we did. The fingers, the toes, the knees, the elbows, needed no separate urgings to work together for the common safety, but all in- stinctively found indentations, rugosities, cracks, and frictional surfaces to which they could, more or less effectively, cling. I had before, in less trying places, learned to pull oft my woolen mittens with my teeth, pre- ferring, when every movement might involve the question of life or death, to trust the su- perior gripping power of the bare fingers. The startled ear heard frequently the jingling of loosened fce beginning a downward jour- ney of which it would not do to think. It would have been just as well, perhaps, not to have known that the all-swallowing abyss, which T rather felt than saw, was getting more and more squarely beneath us, as, sloping toward the right—we slowly crept upward—was the 4,00-foot horror, over whose brink Michel Croz and his doomed compan- fons had vanished from the living world And when at length we reached a place of comparative security it was not possible to avoid a momentary reflection on the fact that we must go down where we had come up! If one were compelled to do such a thing against his will it would seem like the infliction of the cruelest torture. The Matterhorn can teach more self-mastery in a day than the ordinary mortal acquires in a lifetime. For- tunately there was little time for meditation. No sooner was one breathless scramble fin- ished than another determined effort had to be put forth. And still the far-off summit rode the sky like a cloud. Soon after leaving the Shoulder we began to find, here and there, pleces of rope about as large as a clothesline dangling from the rocks above, They were blackened by the weather, stiffened with ice, and frayed by the switchings of temp so that altogether thelr appearance was uninviting. 1 was warned not to bear too strongly upon them, but always to keep a grip on the rock and put most of the weight there. In one or two instances small chains took the place of ropes, and these, though covered with rust, locked eafer; but I am inclined to think that it would be better if they were all away. THE PERIL OF FALLING ROCKS. One of the perils of the Matterhorn comes from falling rocks. Starting high aloft, they can find no stopping place. Thelr first touch is like the crack of a gun; the second is an explosion! In great parabollc curves they leap and soar until they burst into shivers. There Is nowhere so magnificent an object lesson In the law of gravitation as that pre- gented by these falling stones of the Matter- horn. Above the Shoulder we came upon one of the most perilous localities for falling rocks, and hurried over it, yet none fell while we were there. More than once, when completely out of breath with the unaccus- tomed exertions I had put forth, I begged for a moment’s respite to recover my wind, the guides would not allow a pause, saying that a shower of stones might assail us at any instant. There is no question that they were right; yet, as a matter of fact, no stone fellsnear us during the entire ascent and the subsequent descent. Indeed, I do not re- member that among all the victims of the Matterhorn a single one has been killed by a falling rock. But a guide once had his haversack cut in two by a flying stone that Just missed his shoulders, and several climbers have been injured by such missiles. Ordinarily these projectiles, like great shells, glve abundant warning of their approach. The arrival on the summit was as sen- sational an experience as any one could wish for. We had got upon another spindling ridge as narrow as that at the Shoulder, and pieces of frostwork cornice fell at a touch and shot déwnward in a manner that made one exceedingly careful of his foot- steps. The’precipice under this ridge on the left hand side was not merely vertical, it absolutely overhung, and the necessity of caution kept my attention fixed upon the work immediately at hand, so that before I was fully aware how near we were to the end I suddenly heard Tangwalder shout: “The top!” “Yes, monsieur, Graven behind me, I took three steps—and another would have sent me whirling 6,000 feet down into Italy! THE SUMMIT AND A LOOK ABOUT. Although the summit of the Matterhorn gradually changes in shape, partly through disintegration of the srhistore rock, but mainly in consequence of variations in the amount of snow resting upon it, it has al- ways been described by those who have seen it from time to time since Mr. Whym- per's vision, as a narrow ledge between 300 and 400 feet in length, and in some places not wide enough to stand upon. That was also its appearance as I saw it. At the highest point a comb of rock projected through the snow, and I knocked off a plece and put it in my pocket. The view ranged over the whole of Switzer- land (except, of course, that some of the surrounding mountains hid one another as well as the valleys between them) and over northern Italy as far as the Apennines. The snowy dome of Mont Blanc rose high above all the peaks in the west. The nearer Alps, Monte Rosa, the Dent Blanche, the Gabel- horn, the Breithorn, the Rothhorn, the Rimpfischhorn, gleamed in the sunshine, and great glaciers were spread out like floors on the east, the north and the west. Zermatt was visible far, far below on the Swiss side, but Breuil, at the Italian foot, was under a cloud. Most of the plain of Lombardy was also buried in mist, and a very remarkable spectacle was produced by the pouring of white clouds from Italy over the mountain wall joining the base of the Matterhorn with the Theodulhorn. Thousands of feet beneath us these billowy clouds rose from the Val Tournache, surmounted the lofty walls, and then tumbled in a catoract down into Switzerland. Swirling {and tossing they swept a short distance across the Furggen and Theodul gaciers and then, in midair, vanished. There was no cessation in the ad- vance from the Italian side, no thinning out of the clouds behind, yet beyond a certain line they could not go, could not exist, but on reaching it melted instantly into nothing- ness, the top!” called out THE DESCENT. A wind that would hardly have been noticed below proved disagreeable here, and we re- mained but a short time on the summit. Even the most experienced guide cannot cnter lightly upon a descent from the Mat- terhorn, and for a beginner the mere idea of golng down some of the places we had come up was a thing to be banished from the mind as quickly as possible. It was to be done, but it was not to be thought of in advance of the doing. The cheerfulness of the situation was not enhanced for me by the fact that during the latter half of the climb 1 had been suffering from mountain sickuess, brought on by the combined effects of stroug tea, rare air and exhausting mus- cular labor. It is as hard an ill to bear as seasickness, but luckily it does not affect the head —ut least it did not in my case. If it had done sa I should have been unable to proceed, for on the Matterhorn vertigo is entirely inadmissible. If you cannot stand unmoved With your toes over (he margin of a precipice, you have no business there. I wonder what would be the fate of a person who should becotne helplessly ill on the top of that mountain, There is no shelter and he snowy and windy Fidge, and one who ek not cmmand of All his faculties could BY m possibility descend from it. Some years ago 2 guide, seized with sickness at the hut o the Itallan side, nearly 2,000 feet below the simmit, was left alone by his comrades whi'e they went down after help. When the rescyars arrived the man was dead. A subsequé¥ writer declared the sick man had been gondemned to death by the mere act of leaying him there. But, in any case he could Ydrdly have been taken down alive, although, he was below all the most difficult places, ! Carefully treading jonce more the snow- topped ridge we begal the descent. Tte worst feature llmnmlhflnly* ame manifest.; the eyes could no longer‘avoid the vacuf gaped beneath us. Tangwalder, in virtue of his greater experience, now assumed the last place, where he couldjend the most effective aid if a slip occurred £ ¥ remained in the mid- dle, and Graven led. Constant vigilance was the price of life. Theoretically, and 1 believe practically as well, the rope by which one is fastened to his guides is an assurance of com- parative safety for all three; vet there were many points where I could not he'p wen Tering whether if 1 should slip Tangwalder, man of iron though he was, would not come tumbling after me, and where I was mortally certain it one of the others fell T should go along with him into the depths. Fortunately there was 1o test case; I did not make a misstep or a slip at any critical point. In the most dan- gerous places only one person moved at a time. The leading guide went on until he was 80 placed that he could get a good grip on the rocks, or a safo hold with his fce ax. Then I followed and took his place, while he pushed on to another holding, and then the last man joined me, and it became my turn to move again. FISHING WITH THE TOES FOR INVISI- BLE LEDGES. It was with a peculiar sensation that one approached the verge of a precipice, and, turning on his face, began to let himself down backward, feeling with his toes for ledges that he could not sce, and that might not ex- ceed a fraction of an inch in width, but to which e must intrust as much of his welght as his fingers, clutching similar projections above, were unable to support, while, with one leg dangling, he reached down for another precarious foothold And whenever he glanced between his body and the rock to see what his feet were about he caught a thrilling glimpse of precipice below precipice and crag under crag, whose plaything he would become it his head dizzled, his eves swam, or his muscles refused instantly to perform their whole duty. ~Such are some of the joys of the Matterhorn! 1 do not say it mockingly.; I am giving a record of psychological fmpres- sions, and these things, like any mastering of human weakness, are a joy in recollection, Burke proved that terror is a source of the sublime, and sublimity is certainly a source of joy. The work of descent was not as exhausting to the physical forces as that of ascent, but it was even a heavier tax on the nerves, and it required an equal expenditure of time. We had been about seven hours in climbing from the cabane to the summit, a distance but little exceeding a mile in an aif line, and we were long in getting back to the cabane again. The guldes, of course, could have made the round trip much quicker, perhaps in half the time, but not being trained in such work I required frequent stops to re- cover my breath, as well as to struggle with the nausea which did not leave me when we ot to the top, but accompanied me down to the Schwartzsee hotel, where it finally yielded to a good night's sleep. T would not, however, convey the impression that the guides, if unaccompanied, would be in any degree careless, although' they might travel more rapidly. There are no more careful men in the world. ‘They consider the con- sequences of every ktep/before they take it, for they know better, than anybody else that their lives depend upbn their caution. GOING DOWN BACKWARD ON ALL FOURS. On the Ice slope, covered with snow just below the shoulder, we went down backward on all fours, thus distribpting our weight as widely as possible, Jn érder to prevent the loose snow, now softening by the sun, from starting an avalanche; which would have car- ried us to inevitable: destruction, When we reached the glacler boy} the cabane, which had witnessed the beglnning of our adven- tures before daylight, it was not without deep interest that § saw its surface dotted Wwith fragments of rook that had fallen dur- ing our dhsence, aud:some of “which hdd plowed and gouged the jce right in our track. When we passed before sunrise the cliffs above were hard frozem: Later the morning sunbeams falling upon them had released the rocks pried loose by the frost over night, but held until then in the grip of the ice, and sent them spinning downward. On our return in the afternoon the sun had left the cliffs again, and the falling of rocks had practically ceased. We paused to make a cup of tea at the cabane, and while Tangwalder and Graven were building a fire I stood outside, the spectator of a curious phenomenon. The sun was hidden behind the Matterhorn and an immense beam of light, 40 degrees in length, like the tafl of a glgantic comet, extended straight out from the apex of the peak and seemed to be brandished over Switzerland. It required but little Imagination to picture a mighty angel standing there to guard the paradise’ ol snow against the intrusion of mortal footsteps from the lower world, and I could readily understand how such mete- orological wonders as this must have been potent in producing those early traditions which proclaimed the Matterhorn a sacred mountain whose secrets were forbldden to man, When we reached the Schwartzsee the magnificent mountain had rolled a cloudy turban about its head, and an Englishman, with his guides, whom we met on thelr way to the cabane; returned the next forenoon re- porting that upon ascending to a point be- low the shoulder they had been driven back by hail. When I 2gain saw the sun shining on the peak its terrific precipices had their brows encircled with chaplets of new-fallen snow. DOES A CLIMB UP THE MATTERHORN PAY? 1 have been asked twenty times if the view from the top of the Matterhorn repays one for the effort expended in climbing it. No, it does not. But, then, it is not for the view that one climbs the Matterhorn, Some of my friends appear to think that I had an idea of establishing an observatory on the top of the mountain, An observa- tory would be useless if it could be placed there. The atmosphere of the Alps is not the Kind of air the astromer is in scarch of. I had no ulterior purpose whatever. Do you not know that there are some things which are worth doing for their own sake? GARRETT P. SERVISS. TELL TALE SHADES. Character of the Inmates Told by the Win- dow Blinds, “I don’t know anything about the front of a house that more clearly indicates the char- acter and condition cf the Inmates than the widow shades,” sald’a young woman of ob- servation to the New York Sun. “If you see the shades all drawn down to precisely the same level in every window you can tell at <nce that the house s occupied by a single family and that the mistress is of a severely orderly spirit. Therell not be a thing out of its accustomed place ‘in that house you can rest assured. 1If the shades of all the up- stairs windows are drawn down to the top of the bottcm sash, while those of the parlor are drawn clear down, you can safely judge the family of that house to be one of those essentially domestic ones that live mostly up- stairs; where the bedroom is at cnce the wife's sewing room and the husband’s library, and where the parlor i only opened on state occasions. If .the bedroom window blinds in the middle story are half way down while thcse on the top fidor and of the parlor are away up, you won't be wrong in saying that that house is ruled by the young folks, who are golng to have a flood of sunshine in thelr bedrooms even If it does fade cut the matting, and who are not going to have the parlor smelling like a musty old church. “The room with that one window blind run clear up to the top s cccupied by a man; and if you see the window shades at different heights you take it for granted that t have let lodgings there or that the ho: keeping is of a decldedly frowsy character, One of the most unfailingly indicative shades 1s that which runs diagonally across the wind:w with one corner close under the roller and the other half way down the sash. The woman of that window 1s a slattern and it's bables to bodkins that the growler is rarely empty there. ‘These are, of course, only the broad in- dications of the character reading that may be d'ne from the position and wag of the eye- }ide of & house; for I suppose it is not foreing & figure of speech to say that if the windows Are the eyes of a house the shades are the l‘""""‘" WaB USBLIVISU LY BIE @LUNL | COMMENCES IN Harper’s Ma of ““The Simpletons ton and the Carolina: AND with 27 Ready Dec. 224, TPublished by HARPER 1ids and can be held primly straight or give a drunken wink." pasicR a— JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, Remarkable Work of the First American Naturallst, In the days when Louislana was a province | of Spain, a little dark-eyed boy used to wan- der among the flelds and groves of father’s plantation studying with eager Ught the works of nature around him. Lying under the orange trees watching the mocking bird, or learning from his mother's lips the names of the flowers that grew in every corner of the plantation, he soon came to feel that he was part of that beautiful world, whose language was the songs of birds and whose boundaries extended to every place where a blossom lifted its head above the green sod. No other companfons suited him so well, and no roof scemed so securc as that formed of the dense foliage under which the feathered tribes resorted, or the caves and rocks to which the curlew and cormorant fetired to protect themselves from the fury of the tempest. In these words we read the first chapter of the life history of John James Audubon, the American natural- ist and the author of one of the early classicy of Amarican literature, In those early days his father was Audu bon's teacher and hand in hand they searched the groves for new specimens, or lingered over the nests where lay the helpless young. It was the father who taught him to look upon the shining eggs as flowers in the bud and to note the different characteristics which distinguished them. These excursions were seasons of joy, but when the time came for the birds to take their annual departure the joy was turned to sorrow. To the young | naturalist a dead bird, though beautifully preserved and mounted, gave no pleasure. Tt seemed but a mockery of life, and the constant care needed to keep the specimens 1n good condition brought an additional sense of loss. Was there no way in which the memory of these feathered friends migth | e kept fresh and beautiful? He turned in his anxiety to his father, who in answer laid before him a volume of illustrations. Audu- bon turned over the leaves with a new hope in his heart, and although the pictures were badly executed, the idea satisfied him. Al- though he was unconscious of it, it was the moment of the birth of his own great life- work. Pencil in hand he began to copy na- | ture untiringly, although for a long time he | produced what he himself called but a family of cripples, the sketches being burned regu- | larly on his birthdays. But no fallure could stop him and he made hundreds of sketches of birds every year, worth less almost in themselves because of bad drawing, but valu- able as studies of nature. Meantime for education the boy had been taken from Loulsiana to France, the home of his father, who had wished him to be- come a soldier, sailor or engineer. For a few hours daily Audubon now studied mathe- matics, drawing and geography, only to dis- appear in the country when study hours were over, and return with eggs, nests or curlous plants. His rooms looked like a museum of natural history, and the walls were covered with drawings of French birds. For one year he wrestled dutifully with problems and theorems, counting himself happy if by any chance he could fly to the country for an hour to take up his acquaint- ance with the birds; and then the father ad- mitted the son’s unfitness for military pur- sults and sent him to America to take charge of some property. Audubon was then 17 years of age and had but one ambition in life—to live in the woods with his wild friends. He was the best skater in side; at balls and parties he the amateur master of ceremonies, gayly teaching the newest steps and turns that he obtained in France. In the hunt it was Audubon, dressed, perhaps, in satin breeches and pumps, for he was a great dandy, who led the way through the almost unbroken wilder- ness. Add to this that he was an expert swimmer, once swimming the Schuylkill with a companion on his back; that he could play any one of half a dozen instruments for an impromptu dance, that ho could plait a set of plenic dishes out of willow rushes; train dogs and do a hundred other clever things and it is easy to see why he was a general favorite. His private rooms were turned into a museum. The walls were covered with festoons of birds' eggs, the shelves crowded with fishes, nakes, lizards and frogs; the chimney displayed stufted squirrels = and opossums, and wherever there was room hung his own paintings of birds. It was the holiday of his life for the young lover of nature and he enjoyed it with good will. Here suddenly the idea of his great work came to him as he was one day looking over his drawings and descriptions of birds, Suddenly, as It seemed to him, though his whole Tife had led to It, he concelved the plan of a great work on American ornithology. He began his gigantic undertaking as a master in the school of nature, wherein he had been so faithful a student, for he now saw Wwith joy that the past which had often scemed Idle’ had been in reality rich with labors that were to bear frujt. Season after season from the gulf to Canada and back again these winged creatures of the air wended their way, stopping to hateh and breed thelr young, becoming acquainted With Louisiana orange groves and New Eng- land apple orchards, now fluttering with kindly soclability round the dwellings of men and again sceking lonely eerles among In- accessible mountaln tops, purculng thelr course at all time almost without the thought and cognizance of man, It was Audubon who was the conqueror it not the discoverer of this aerial world of song, of which he became the immortal his- torian. It was his untiring zeal which gave thus early to American literature a scler tific work of such vast magnitude and jm- portance that It astonished the scientists of Europe and won for tscIf the fame of being the most gigantic Dbiblical enterprise ever undertaken by a single individual. To do this meant a life of almost constant change, and Audubon can hardly have had an abld. Ing place after his first serious beginning, The wide continent became his home and he found his dwelling wherever the winged tribes sought shelter from the wind and storm, His pursuit was often interrupted by occupations neceseary for the support of his family, for at his father's death he had given (o his sister his share of the estate and s0 became entirely dependent upon his own efforts for a livelihood; but at all times, no matter what his situation, his heart was in the wild retreats of nature. Traveling through the west and south in search of fortune, as well as of specimens, his experi- lences were oft:n disenchanting. At Louis- ville and New Orleans he would be forced to make crayon portraits of the principal citizens In order to ralse the money for family expenses. Again he taught drawing; e served as tutor in private families, and In order to secure funds for the publicatic of his work, he earned $2,000 by dancin lessons, the largest sum he cver earned Many business speculations enlisted Audu- bon's hopes, but all falled utterly Once he embarked his money in a steam mill which being bullt in an unfit place, soon fail:d At another time he bought a steamboat which, proving an uulucky speculation, was his de- 11 the country Tue PrINCESS ALINE BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS For JANUARY THOMAS HARDY'S new novel, Hearts Insurgent ( der a new JULIAN RALPH'S first paper on the New South, FIVE SHORT STORIES are among the many other striking features. gazine sntinuation ntitled Charless illustrations ; & BROTHERS, New York Our easy system of credi LADIES' DESKS, PLATES, DRESSING TABLES, PARLOR CHAIRS, SILVERWARE, TEA TABLES, PICTURES, SILK PILLOWS, LADIES' WHITE ENAM- EL DRESSING CASES, WHITE ENAMEL PARLOR CHAIRS, FINE RATTAN ROCKERS, FINE CHINA CLOSETS, PARLOR LAMPS, DECORATED CHINA CLOCKS, WARE, GENTLEMEN'S SMOKING TABLES, BLACKING CASES, SILVER MATCH BOXES, BILVER AND CUT GLASS INK STANDS, FRAMED WATER COLOR PICTURES, FRAMED ETCHINGS, HAND EMBROIDERED SILK PHOTOGRAPH FRAMES, TURKISH RUGS, SILVER MATCH HOLDERS, OFFICE CASES, FINE DICT! HOLDERS, MARKERS, PRESENTS F Wwe are noted. MUSIC RACKS, CABINETS, ONYX TADLES, JEWEL CASES, TEA SETS, STERLING SILVER- SILVER MOUNTED, TOILET ARTICLAS, FINE CARVING SETS, LACE CURTAINS, ONYX CABINETS, FLORENTINE PRESENTS FOR GENTLEMEN. OFFICE DESKS, CHAIRS, BOOK CASES, REVOLVING BOOK SILVER CIGAR CASES, SHAVING STANDS, EASY CHAIRS, TURKISH ROCKERS, LEATHER COUCHES, TABLES FOR GENTLE- MEN'S ROOMS, SILVER BOOK Christmas Giving Made Easy t enables everyone to make suitable Cifts to Relatives and Friends. PRESENTS FOR LADIES. ELEGANT SIDEBOARDS ORNATE EXTENSION TABLES, LEATHER SEAT DINING CHAIRS, FINE CHINAWARB, JAPANESE SCREENS, EASELS, PARLOR SUITS, TABLE COVERS, WALL CABINETS, CHINA FISH SETS, BRASS BEDS, SMYRNA RUGS, HALL TREES, FRAMES| giLK BED COVERS, MORRIS EASY CHAIRS, PICTURES FOR GEN- TLEMEN'S ROOMS, FRENCH CLOCKS, FOR GENTLEMEN'S ROOMS, CHIFFONIERS, DRESSING CASES FOR GENTLEMEN'S ROOMS, BRASS BEDS FOR GENTLEMEN'S ROOMS, STERLING SILVER NOVELTIES FOR GENTLEMEN. OR CHIDREN. TONARY Rockers, High Chairs, Cribs, Creepers, Baby Jumpers, Fancy Beds, Decorated Cups and Saucers, and thousands of other suitable presents too numerous to mention, all offered at the ssme uniform low prices for which purchase money. Again he was cheated in the clearing of a tract of timber. But his studies in natural history always went on. When he had no money to pay his passage up the Mississippi, he bargained to draw the portrait of the captain of the steamer and his wife as remuncration. When he needed boots, he obtained them by sketehing the features of a friendly shoe- maker, and more than once he paid his hotel bills and saved something besides by sketch- Ing the faces of the host and his family. On the other hand, his adventures in search of material for his work were romantic enough to satisty the most ambitious traveler. From Florida to Labrador und from the Atlantic to the then unknown regions of the Yellowstone he pursued his way, often alone, and not seldom In the midst of dungers which threatened life itsell, He hunted buffalo with the Indians of the Great Plalns, and lived for months In the tents of the flerce Sioux. He spent a season in the winter camp of the Shawness, slecping wrapped in a buffalo robe, before the greal camp fire and living upon wild turkey, bear's grease and opossums. of deer, bears, cougars, as well as of turkeys, prairie hens and other birds, Ior days “he drifted down the Ohio in a flat- bottomed boat, searching the uninhabited shores for specimens and living the life of the frontiersman, whose daily food must be supplied by his own exertions. Sometime his studies would take him far into the dense forests of the west, where the white man never trod, and the only thing that sug gested humanity, would be the smoke rising miles away form the evening camp fire of some Indian hunter as lonely as himself. Once as he lay stretehed on the deck of a small vessel ascending the Misslesippl, he caught sight of a great eagle circling ahout his head. Convinced that it was & new specles, he waited patlently for (wo years before he again had a glimpse of it flying, in lazy freedom, above some butting crags, where its young were nested. Climbing the place and watching like an Indian in ambush until it dropped to its nest, Audu- bon found it to be 4 sea eagle. He named it the Washington sea cagle honor of George Washington. Waiting two years longer he was able fo obtain a specimen, from which he mads the pleture given fn his work. This is but one example of the tircless patience With which he prosecuted his studies, years of waillng counting as nothing if Ne could but gain his end. Some of his overies in this kingdom of the birds he relates with a romantic en- thusiasm. Throughout the entire work thers runs the note of warmest sympathy with the lives of these creatures of the air and sunshin He tells us of thelr hopes and hoves and interests, from the time of the nest-making till the young had flown away. The freedom of bird life, its happl ness, its experlences and tragedies appeal to him as do thoze of humanity, ‘The discovery of a new cles 18 reported as rapturously as the news of & new slar. Once in Labrador, when he wus in a great hawk captu above his head. To Audub was that rare speelmen, th ‘s delight, It gerfaleon, tofore eluded old to & shrewd buyer who never paid the whose white plumage Lad he: the efforts of naturalists to obtain it, Whlle Here e made studies | wild | making | studies of the eggs, his son brought to him d on the precip'ces far| r delivered prices on Corn or Feed of any description in car load: i AuY daaoriot s lots. Write W. H. BOOTH & Co0., s Kansas City, Mo, Welghts and grades guuranteed, - WM. LOUDON, Commission Merchant in and Provisions. Private wires to Chicago and New) York. | All “business “orders pluce SHicas Board of Trade, pracedon - SRR Gorrespondence gollcited. ce, room 4, New York Life Bullding, Omaha. Telephone 1308. b, | the raiud dripped down from the rigging | above,” Audubon sat for hours making a | sketch of his bird and feeling as rich as it ho had discovered some rare gem. After the work was published. Every from the tiny humming bird (o cagles and yultures, was sketched life size and colored In the tints of nature, There were 476 of these plates, furnishing & | complete history of the feathéred tribes of | North America, for they showed not only | the of the birds, but represented also ers and “home life of thiy world song. The humming bird pofsed . | before the crimson throat of the trumpet | flower, the whippcorwill resting among the leavew of the oak, the bobolink singing among the crimson flowers of the swamp maples, the sncwbird chirping cheerily among the snow touched herries of the holly were not sketehes merely, but bits of story out of bird history. 0 also are those pictures of | the swan among the reeds of the great lakes, | cf the great white heron seizing its prey from the waters of the gulf, and of the golden eagle winging Its way toward the distant heights that it inhabit The work was published by subscription in London In 1829 under the title, “The Birds {of North America” The price was 80 guin Later on a smaller and cheaper wdition was fssued. The work Is now very rare. Audubon had the gratification of knows {ng that his labors were understood preclated by the world of sclence. When he | exhibited his plates in the galleries of Eng- | 1znd and France, whither he went to obtain | subseriptions, crowds flocked to see him, and | the greatest sclentists of the age welcomed | bim to their ranks. “The Birds of America’* was his greatest work, though he was inters | osted somewhat in general zoology and wrote on other subjects. HENRIETTA C. WRIGHT, N. W. HARRIS & C0. BANKERE, 163-165 Dearborn-st., Chicago. 15 Wallest., New York. 70 State-st., Boston, CITY, COUNTY, BO | | the largest EHOOLWATER and RADE CHER HIGH N D§ 3 P Dought and B0ld. Correspondence