HARNESSING GLACIER STREAMS
Houj .Sujitxerland Capitalises Its Barrenness
[3 ^Gregory Underhill R
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o^roc'T.V C&’sf
WHii bus not known Switzer
land me past live rears knows
not tbe Switzerland ot today.
Tbe rawades, the totTents.
and river.-- run there still, but
f are controlled and utll
i«ed Tbe aMBMte* tear
tbelr lofty bead-. but not as of
old They are conquered and
harnessed
The early summer of 1911
indicated that tbe teal was to
he unusual In Italy, and mat
we must leave our riila on me
h,. -itots near S M • ato for some coot retreat,
i-nd Switzerland was de .ded -upon. Our ap
proach thither was hr I age <!i Como, plan
t g remain a lew days at Tramezzo, where
the summer preced.ng we had enjoyed for
■early two wee-..-, the companionship of sev
eral A meric as f Mends
Krorr TrStnezzo we look steamer tor Menag
-f - -ed by the railroad to Porlezza on l<ake
(. ... oi-r wh: it we sal.ed. past Lugano to
t -j. »di Lago and by the "rack and pinion rail
ed to Monte Gc-neroso. conceded to offer tbe
wide*. moot varied, and beautiful expanse of
ctery in Switzerland. its only rival
Use Goraev Grat.
I a our approach down the Lake of Lucerne
the historic polir where Tell jumped
a- >ore |cast the Ktgl. and the many summits
t it c»e from the shores e! that historic lake.
«c Lf uaa to Obsc-ve the wonderful results of
-wi-s er-egy and ability. The rack and pinion
> ail road takes one to the summit of Pilatus.
.bout «.<«•* feet altitude, where the night may
• - pas-ed in a 'urge omfortable hotel, and
returns you to Lucerne next morning for the
moderate charge of twenty five francs, cov
ering *. charges for the excursion. The rack
and pirn--n also ascends the Ktgl some 5.WO
feet, ot whose cutauits are several good ho
tels The general impression made by such
accent was well voiced. 1 think, by an Amerl
a* girl, whom I overheard saying: "I was
really disappointed with the Kigi. but 1 am
glad I went up. for I should always have
(hough' I had missed much if I had not gone. "
The funicular railroad takes one to Rurgen
'<"c« Stan-rnlwm. and also Sonnenberg and
<;
A*. even In ml* age of travel, not every
«f-c goe* to S»ltzi r land, or has observed the
<JilT*-r«r - la priori pie ot construction between
the rack and pinion and the funicular, I may
•up he-e that the termer has a middle rail on
the roadbed, set with teeth deep and broad,
nd tne motor car usually has four cylinders
with »ia*!lar teeth, each cylinder so succes
»i»el* retiring as to reciprocally insert Its
'eetb between the teeth of the middle rail,
and so force the car up It usually descends
by gravity, ontrolled by brakes, in either
w*e KKiag at very slow ppce. rarely six
mile* an hoir. It Is obviously much saler
'ban the funicular, having so much more bold
tug surface, and nowhere depending upon a
■tegie support. The funicular is run by a
•ingle cable on the principle of the elevator.
It bms the advantage of being usable on niucn
•toeper grades than the rack and pinion can
be rue on. even at an angle over 60 per cent,
while the rack and pinion seldom exceeds 2»
per cent, and usually run* at shout tin per
u Moth *jstems are armed with very ef
•cieet t.rales. tint in case of mishap I should
prefer to be on the “rack and pinion."
The astern of tte Wetterhorn Is made by
a car suspended from a cable dangling In mid
air The ride across the S. Got hard from
Lugano to Lucerne had been Interesting. We
were now to attempt an even wilder pass, the
Itrunig. ow our way to Interlaken, mainly tak
• n over by the "rack and pinion." The de
. opn.eet In the rural region is remarkable,
tad particularly in recent years The view of
;»e Jungfrau from the park at Interlaken was
not nearly as attractive as It was last year,
when In the very cool summer It was com
pie«-ty covered with glistening snow and Ice.
The courage and shrewdness of the Swiss
t* shown in renrhlng out from the old estab
lished centers to new Helds, selected because
of their favorable exposures; sometimes ap
proached by the funicular, or rack and pinion,
sometimes only over a donkey path, end even
for miles on foot. Saas-Kee. for example, at
CjMi lee* altitude Is so approached lrom the
VUp to Zermatt.
We met a gray hatred rector o' be Church
of KngUnd and bts grown daughters, who
were nil to walk for Dir hours, mostly up
grarfe. 'rim th<- station to Sans Cec. The
Kngiieh are particularly fond at such ptetur
raoue cjuiet mountain resorts. But I must
re*urn to our ride to the Jungfrau. The last
six iui'es and over were through a tunnel cut
la tbt s>.id rock, and the present terminus Is
In it- ioiia n hundreds of feet below the
surla e The only light, air. and outlook are
through wide apertures cut through the solid
rank at the mountainside. Standing in the
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large open restaurant, salotto, and entrance
room containing even post oSce facilities (ex
cept for the open spaces in the mountain
side) you are completely entombed in solid
roc-, beneath great bodies of snow and ice
in the very heart of the Swiss mountains.
It is the loftiest tunnel in Europe, prob
ably in the world, measuring ten feet wide
and fourteen feet three Inches in height, cut
through limestone so hard and tenacious that
a lining of masonry is unnecessary. The
gradient is one in four, the track is three feet
four inches wide: the last stretch starts from
Kleine Scheidegg, on which only a score of
years ago not a single house stood. Now sev
eral large buildings have been erected, hotels,
shops, sheds, etc., and they are the center of
great animation; the cries of railway and ho
tel porters, and the ringing of bells, mingled
with the conversations carried on in every
known tongue by tourists, are heard on every
hand. Over U.OOO persons are carried to the
Kleine Scheidegg in a single day. The Jung
frau railway is worked by electricity, and its
engines are the finest mountain engines in
the world. ' -
The Wegen alps and the Jungfrau railway
is not worked after October. Because of the
heavy snowfalls, water is difficult to procure.
From November to May, fresh water is en
tirely lacking, every drop required for drink
ing. washing, etc., and for the drills, is ob
tained from snow, melted by electricity. Four
teen quarts of snow make one quart of water.
Incredible quantities of snow fall here, the
entire lower story of the houses Is buried in
snow, and a thick wall of it rises in front of
the windows. The worst foe of the colonists
is the south wind, or "Fohn." Under its im
part the buildings tremble to their very base.
In the open air it is impossible to make head
against the “Fohn,” the only thing to do is to
lie down Hat on the ground and to hold on
to whatever one can grasp, taking advantage
of the lulls to advance a few yards.
The first station after entering the great
tunnel is Eigerwand, excavated in the rock.
Nowhere except on the Jungfrau railway is
there a station blasted out of the interior or
a mountain and yet commanding a magnificent
view in the evening an electric searchlight
of 94.000,000 candle-power throws its beams
far and wide. It is said that by its light a
newspaper can be read in the streets of Thun,
sixty miles distant. At last we reach Eismeer,
the present terminus, 10,370 feet above sea
level. The station is a marvel of constructive
ingenuity. A large hall, excavated, pierced
with several openings on the south side, twen
ty feet wide, forms a comfortable room which
can be heated, with parquet floor and glass
windows. On one side are the apartments ot
the stationmaster, with a poet office, the
loftiest in Europe; on the other, the Kitchen
of the restaurant and the larders. No wood
or coal is used. Electricity does the cooking
and heating.
Soon the railway will be carried to a point
near the summit, where an elevator, a genu
ine perpendicular lift, will take the tourist 240
feet to the very summit of the Jungfrau
(13,428 feet).
A two days' drive over the Grlmsel Pass
took us through tunnels, under overhanging
arches, by leaping cascades, roaring brooks
and rivers, and endless chains of pines and
firs, broken occasionally by a small holding of
cleared land. A level bit of land is always
cultivated, and chalets ar$ raised here and
there, the goats crossing our track, the cows,
with their bells keeping time with the foot
falls of our horses, and always in ever-shift
ing lines the everlasting hijls, rising higher
and higher. Who knows how they came
there? *
All along I have been impressed with the
sagacity and energy with which the Swiss ex
ploit their rugged country, whose chief as
sets are mountains and glaciers, ordinarily
the most profitless. And, yet, in doing so,
they kill the romance of mountaineering. The
imagination that kindles the courage that
dares, the glory of being one of the elect few
to achieve such ascents, the fine ecstasy of
conquest, the exhilaration of the hardly won
far-distant reaches, all are to disappear before
mechanism and finance. In about two years
any gouty old gentleman and delicate, gray
haired (never old) lady on the summit of the
Jungfrau, at 13,670 feet altitude, can look
sympathizingly down upon the toilers below.
Mont Blanc, the highest summit of the entire
range, is being rapidly harnessed clear to its
summit, with its equipment of rack and pin
ion. Even the Matterhorn Is partially equip
ped with fixed ropes, and some attempts at
paths have been made. On can reach the
summit of the Kigi and return in a few hours,
or remain In a comfortable hotel.
I have alluded to the exploiting of the
mountains. The glaciers are being similarly
utilized. All the mountain railways are run
by electricity, so are the cars in passing
through the Simplon Tunnel. Soon the S.
Gothard line will be electrified, and in turn
the other railroads will follow. The only
hindrance is the delay and first cost in substi
tuting electric motors for steam. As 1 drove
by the fierce rushing torrents, mainly fed by
snow and glaciers and apparently unfailing.
I estimated that at no distant day Switzerland
would supply electricity profitably not only
for its own requirements, but also for nearly
all Germany. In time those snows and gla
ciers are to pay the entire expenses or the re
public, averting the necessity of taxation. A
gold mine will give out; those mountain sum
mits and glaciers will not.
The Italians were shrewd and able in util
izing, capitalizing the forestiert. but the Swiss
are far in the lead, the most highly organized,
scientific absorbers (another word nearly es
caped me), I think, on the face ot the earth.
When 1 found myself taxed for the band 1
protested. I had not asked for any band, or
agreed to pay for one; I would pay something
if they would not play. Of course, It ended
in my paying. A Kursaal tax is levied on
tourists, through the landlords. A friend of
mine protested that her mother, past eighty
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on. “£tl&
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jsvzh&y
never entered it. The official replied th*re is
no requiring such payments, but your land
lord Trill have to pay if you do not; she paid
it
The railroads are practically all owned by
the government, and the rates are high; the
mountain rates, very high. Of course, as they
are expensive, and the season is short, they
should charge accordingly; but 1 have paid 50
cents a .mile for each of my family. All trunks
are weighed and charged for at high rates.
On the mountain railroads even the hand
pieces are so charged. Not every one, these
tunnel-days, has crossed the Passes, and
noted the admirable road-engineering in which
the Swiss, as well as the Italians, are past
masters. And they protect their roads; auto
mobiles being allowed only on certain roads
and passes, and at certain hours. We might
well take lessons from them. Automobiles,
like the railroad cars, should have their spe
cial roads, and be restricted to them.
In the season Switzerland is a mob. The
extreme tunnel road to Eslmeer, only six
miles long, is carrying three thousand pas
sengers a day, running trams in three sec
tions, at fourteen cents a mile. The income
is easily reckoned. I should advise all Ameri
cans to time their visit to Switzerland for
June or September, unless they are fond ol
“winter sports” and are strong enough to bear
them.
Every winter sees a decided Increase of vis
itors who come to slide down hill, skate, and
revel in the snow and ice. Toboggan slides
of three to four miles, run with proper safe
guards, are arranged; the return ascent is
made by railroad or other similar contrivance
Artificial ice ponds, if natural ones are not
near, are cleared of snow for the skater.
Switzerland is to be as much of a winter
resort as a summer one—perhaps more in
short, the canny Swiss are likely to coin
money out of snow and ice.
People of Large Appetites
Korean* Are Ranked as the Most Vo
racious Eaters of Any in the
Known World.
Tbe Koreans appear to be the great
Hit eaters in the world. To this the
laponeoe French. English. Dutch and
all bear witness. All re
port* concerning the Korean capacity
(dr food seem to agree. In this re
epect there Is not the least difference
between the rich and the poor, the
noble and the plebeian. To eat much
is an honor in Korea, and the merit of
a feast, it would seem, consists not so
much in the quality as in the quan
tity of the food served. Little conver
sation occurs during the Korean meal,
for each sentence might lose a mouth
ful. A Korean is always ready to eat;
he attacks whatever he meets with,
and rarely cries “Enough." Even be
tween meals he will help himself to
anything edible that is offered .
The ordinary portion of a laborer Is
about a quart of rice, which, when
cooked, makes a good bulk. This, how
ever, Is no serious hindrance to his
devouring double or treble the quan
tity when he can get it. Eating matches
are common. Whe nan ox is slaughter
ed and the beef is served up, a heap
ing bowl of the steaming mass does
not alarm any guest When fruits,
such as peaches or small melons, are
served, it is said that they are de
voured without peeling. Twenty or
thirty peaches are demed an ordinary
allowance per person and rapidly dis
appear. Such prodigality in food Is,
however, not common, and for one
feast there are many fastings. The
Koreans are neither fastidious in their
eating nor painstaking in their cook
ing. Nothing goes to waste. All is
grist that comes to the mill in their
mouths.
Ltfjt Trade In Charcoal.
Charcoal is used to a considerable
extent in Sheffield, England, one
.wholesale firm dealing In it estimat
ing the aggregate amount handled at
$150,000 yearly, with a considerable
quantity purchased by large firms di
rect from the local burners.
The Oreadful Age.
Don’t yon dread to reach that age
when you will begin to consider a
holiday a day of rest?—Atchison
Globe.
The Little Professor
* * *
By DOROTHY DOUGLAS
(Copyright, 1912, by Associated Literary Press.)
The little professor’s eyes scanned
the row of girls whose right hands
beat time to the movement of his
baton while they sang an exercise in
solfeggio.
“Miss Vance, you are ont sing
ing," he said without stopping the
rhythm.
Nadine Vance looked at him and a
dull red crept up even to the line of
her softly waving hair; her eyes
were brooding and somber. She
made an effort to sing, but no sound
issued from the lips that were trem
bling.
When the exercise was finished
the little professor still kept his
eyes on the girl.
"Why do you not sing?” he asked
in his kindly manner.
Nadine's heavy eyes were again
raised to his and the hunted look of
a deer at bay sent an expression of
graeity into the professor’s face.
“I cannot sing today,” Nadine said
in a hard, Jerky voice. "It doesn't
matter, anyway—I— am giving up
the class this week.”
A. swiftly hidden emotion swept
across the professor's eyes; then he
went on with the rhythmical move
ment exercise.
But the large class of girls, who one
and all adored the little professor,
felt strangely .antagonistic toward
Nadine Vance. In some way she had
turned harmony Into discord. It was
with a certain sense of relief that the
hour ended and the little profesosr
dismissed his class with a kindly,
paternal smile for each girl as she
left the studio.
Nadine Vance would have slipped
out, too, but she found her escape
blocked by his detaining hand.
"Miss Vance,” the professor’s voice
and eyes were serious, even grave, “I
want to talk to yon. Can you come
here at about 4 o’clock this after
noon?”
“No.” Nadine put in swiftly. The
girl’s usually sweet, caressing voice
was hard and strained. The profes
sor's searching eyes did not leave her
“I Want to Talk to You This* After
noon at 4."
face. "It will do no good to talk.”
she continued jerkily. ”1 have deter
mined to give up this branch of
music.”
The professor’s voice- took on a
compelling note.
“I want to talk to you this after
noon at 4.” he took tier hand as he
often did when parting from his pu
pils. "You will come?” t
The color came fitfully into Nadine’s
cheeks, then it left her with a sudden
ly tense whiteness. - * '
"Yes. I will come. But you are
I compelling me to <\o something for
which I know you will be sorry.” She
turned-and was gone'
The professor Vrent ‘slowly and
thoughtfully back hi the piano.
• “She is unstrung—somp love affair.”
He communed with'himself over the
keys. "What strange vhgaries the
feminine temperament indulges in!”
The professor’s fingers werp playing
the rhapsody of his own mind gad he
was not quite conscious that the inner
man was seeking to forget the hours
between the present and . the hour
of 4. . . ;
Nadine dressed with unusual taste.
She had sufficient of the feminine
-weakness' struggling with tempera
ment to realize the value of becoming
clothes. Her costume was ravishing.
“He will probably not even notice
whether I have on heliotrope or burnt
orange.” A wistful little smile played
about her lips. But in truth she knew
that nothing escaped the professor's
keen eyes, not even the gradually in
creasing turmoil in her own heart.
“And now he is going to drag my se
cret away from me—I know he is."
A blush tingled over Nadine's entire
being and she dropped her lids over
the shamed eyes reflected in the mir
ror.
When she entered the studio at 4
o'clock she still felt an utter lack of
control over herself.
“Now, Miss Vance,” the hint of an
eternal smile in his eyes, and which
was a part of the professor, mingled
oddly with the gravity of his voice
“you and I are going to have a good
talk." He seated her on the wide
couch and dropped into his big arm
chair. He looked steadily into het
great brooding eyes for a moment
and said tenderly, "My nightingale's
eyes are shadowed, her song is
silenced and”—the little professor put
in his usual portion of the lighter
vein—“her features are extraordinar
ily beautiful.’’
A fleeting smile spent itself quick
ly in Nadine’s eyes. Then she looked
at him in mute appeal, but she re
mained silent.
“Come, tell your old teacher all
about it. You are fighting something
out in your own heart little girl—
and it doesn't pay. Something is
bound to give way."
As the words “give way” left his
lips Nadine felt the click of a key
open the door of her heart. She cart
a quick glance at the professor and
slipped over and onto the wide arm
of his chair. «•
And because the little .professor was
a strong man and of well-controlled
emotions he in no way showed sur
prise, but only looked at her writh his
paternal smile in his eyes. He could
feel the vibrations from her slender
body and wondered at the pent-up
struggle within her. He was not pre
pared for the dry huskiness which
spoke of deep feeling when after a
moment she found voice.
“Call me childish, unstrung—any
thing you like.” She burled her head
in her arms on the back of his chair
and drew a few spasmodic breaths.
“But I'm not. I have struggled and
fought against this thing called love.
But it is obsession, tyrrany—a dom
ineering master. And I am utterly
weary trying to escape it."
Nadine glanced shyly up. Her eyes
were no longer brooding, but lumin
ous and wonderful. The little profes
sor felt a subtle warmth stealing over
him. Unconsciously he drew in a
deeper breath of her fragrance. He
j wondered, a trifle apprehensively, just
• what the faint stirring within the
depths of his being might portend.
Nadine's voice continued in low
pitched, emotional cadence. She
dropped her head again on her arms
and spoke almost to herself. “Per
haps if I unburden my thoughts tc
you I may in a measure escape the
bondage if not the obsession. It may
be that in sharing my secret I may
gain back the power of song, of laugh
ter. and win a few moments’ respite
from this unutterable longing, this
pent up love that is shadowing every
gleam of happiness in life."
She ceased speaking, but the little
professor was looking with unseeing
eyes at the white hand that lay idle
on her lap; he had scarcely been
heeding her words, for the realization
had stolen over him that something
big and desperately necessary to his
happiness was being dragged out of
his reach.
Suddenly, and with a force un
dreamed of, he turned and swept Na
dine off the arm of his chair and into
his arms.
“Stop! Don’t tell me anything more
about this love of yours—I cannot,
stand it!” The little professor was
trembling and bis voice was even
more husky than Nadine’s own. “You
have breathed your low tones Into my
ear and the scent of your hair in my
nostrils and now your heart is pound-,
ing against my own—and when you
have s.e*. my soul quivering with love’
for you do you think.I am going to
stand by and let you talk of love for
some other man? You can struggle
all you like, but I am going to hold
you for my own!”
As suddenly as he had taken her
he let go his clasp, with a contrite
realization of what he had done
"Forgive me, Nadine; it all came
over me so suddenly—just how dear
you are to me.” The little professor
made a brave attempt at his kindly,
paternal smile. “Can you forgive me
now and leave me—”
But with a long-drawn sigh of con
tentment Nadine crept back Into his
arms and twined her arms about
him.
“Whom did you think I loved?”
she asked him.
AND THE AUDIENCE LAUGHED
Woman’s Explanation of Moving Pic
tures More Amusing Than the
Exhibit on the Stage.
It was an uptown moving picture
theater in which smoking is allowed
only in the boxes. The show was
fairly started when a family party
came in, two women of considerable
weight and a man with his hair parted
in the middle. Up to that time the in
voluntary box party had been peace
ful, but the heavier of the women re
cently arrived took it upon herself to
explain to the two other members of
the party Just what the pictures were
about. She and they were evidently
Germans, and the heavier woman was
the only one who could read English,
so the task devolved-upon her of read
ing the announcements on the screen,
first in English then translating them
into low German for the benefit of her
companions.
.She had a great deal of difficulty
with the thrilling picture drhma of
“Arragh-na-pough," for she thought
the “pough” had some relation to the
word “plough” and insisted on pro
nouncing It “pow.” With great dis
crimination she gave a free lecture on
a series of pictures showing cowboy
life in the west, a lecture that was
full of beautiful errors, but in the
nest picture, a love story, the girl
wrote a note to her sweetheart. Which
note was thrown on the screen thus:
“Dear Jack: We are out in th
woods and father won’t let me leav*
the camp. Do come out and help m«
with my scheme. Yours, Molly."
With fine unction and an eviden
pride in her scholarship, the heavy
woman read the portentous message
to her friends, all the people in the
vicinity listening, but she read It:
“Dear Jack: Ve are in the voods
out Papa vill not letten me go. Kom
men sie heir und hel-ep me mit
chame.”
It was at this point that the pic-.
ture evoked laughter from a portion
of the audience.—New York Herald,
