THREE DAYS IN LUCERNE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2779, 19 June 1907, Page 86

THREE DAYS IN LUCERNE.

By Edith Skakle Gjjossmann. I. The train rushed into Switzerland in grand melodramatic style, a la Manfred, or, rather, the Alps performed the melodrama as if Manfred and the genii were still interfering with the elements. The stage directions were : darkness, terrific thunder, sharp shoots of lightning, a storm of hail, panorama of rocks, a general sensation of ascent, but no heights visible. Suddenly, without the least interval, the clouds broke, and out sprang 'the white peaks, still parted from the earth by a turbulent mist. Gradually out of the mist there shaped themselves houses, hotels, a prosaic Bahnhof, or railway station, and a poetic gleam of water. The rest was mere omnibus -with rain-splashed windows. Next the hotel Rutli. Being totally ignorant of all hotels in Lucerne I had chosen that one because of its patriotic Swiss sound, and I could not have chosen better. It is a second-class hotel on Cook's list ; it is favoured by professionals and lay teachers on tour. The first dim sensation was of something romantically historic, suggestive of ""Wilbelm Tell" and "Margarten," two pieces of literature which practically sum up my knowledge of mediaeval Switzerland. It has a delightful dining hall, low, long, and dark, of carved wood, with quaint pictures painted all over the ceiling. Whether these paintings are good or bad I would not undertake to say — the general effect was mediaeval for anyone who was in a good enough humour. Indeed, it made me feel as if the board school young lady on the right and the mild clergyman on the left, myself, and all the company dining at the long table were Austrian barons of the dark ages invading the peaceful home of some Swiss burgher. The mild-mannered host looked rather as if he had been invaded. This, however, was rather later in the evening. Romance has always to wait for suitable moments in modern travel. When I reached my bedroom I demanded something unusual — I have forgotten what, probably a bath, always a startling suggestion to Continentals. -Tho chambermaid appeared, but an unforeseen difficulty occurred. There are four languages current in Switzerland, but the common people can each speak only one of them — French or German, or less commonly English or Italian. The distracting part is guessing which one to use, and my pronunciation not being quite orthodox, the smiling chambermaid could not quite make out whether I was talking English, French, German, or Italian, or an unknown tongue ; nor before long did I myself know. She summoned the Italian waiter, and the waiter summoned the French bootblack ; then we all stood in a circle and talkpd like a fmall section of Babel. Finally I gave it up, and in German successfully ordered hot water 'and tea. Comfort is prosaic. Manfred, of course, had none, still to the average person it is one of the joys of travel. At home, in a routine life, comfort is nothing ; it is always at hand, but tlie traveller hungers, thirsts, is tired, excessively hot or cold, often excessively dirty. That is why veteran travellers talk chiefly about meals, drinks, bed, fires, and remember Lucerne. Milan, Genoa chiefly by the hotels at whtch they stayed. After the tea — which in ordinary Continental hotels and restaurants is always an extra — I was at leisure for sensations. At fir.st it was enough to stand by the window. The Ruth is situated some distance away from the modern pleasure resort, with its grand hotels, golf links, tennis courts, and bioramas. It is at the corner of two oldfashioned narrow lanes, the Kessel Ga«6e and the Rtitli Classe, both paved with rough cobble stone, over which there comes thundering an occasional cart or an ox- waggon, and along which in the early morning the held boy drives the cows from off the hill pastures. Walls of quaint Swiss houses nee on either side, one row of windows projecting above

another. Tlie late afternoon sun had coins out, but in ibis high nest of the Alps there were long shadows. The atmasphere, still suggestive of rain -amongst the drenched mountains, had the intense clearness and rarity that New Zealanders •will associate with our own Alps. Above the ancient wooden roofs of the Kessel Ga-sse the 6ummit of the Rigi showed streaked with snow. Then a sudden surprise, and delight of loveliness befell me, for, turning in another direction, I saw a deep-pastured hill and trees dark with rain, and above them the grand white mass of Pitatus, the rocky precipices of its lower slopes wrapped in fine purple haze, and snow heaps shining up ak>fb in the softened light of sunset after tempest. Then, leaving my window, I took one of those aimless delightful strolls one can take only in a foreign country, knowing that wherever I went there would be something strange and interesting, that I was bound to get romantically lost and equally bound to turn up all right in the end. Tlie hot«ls and shops -were mnch like those to be seen elsewhere. Then "E found myself by a bright green dream crossed by several bridges, and rashly concluded, with some disappointment, that, it must be lake Lucerne." However, ifc was the River Reuse. Here the houses are older and more worth notice. On the banks of this stream, so the guide-book tells us, there stood in early days a little assemblage of fishermen's huts, out of which has grown this modern tourist town. A steep, rocky hill, the Sonnenberg, clothed with -long grasses and trees, rises on one side. In a niche cut out of the rocks there is a gaudy crucifix painted' brightly, with the Marys on each side and the crucified figure in the middle. You come upon these wayside crucifixes in strange unexpected places in Italy and in the Catholic cantons of Switzerland. Lucerne still holds to the ancient faith. The bridges of the Reuss are amongst the most interesting sights of the town. Tho Spreuerbrucke or Muhlenbruck *" is tho " covered bridge at Lucerne " ot which Prince Henry of Hoheneck and Elsie linger in Longfellow' 6 " Golden Legend." The scene in which it is introduced evidently conveys the poet's own impressions. God's blessing on the architects who build The bridges o'er swift rivers and abysses, Before impassable to human feet, Nci less -then on the builders of cathedrals. Whose massive walls are bridges thrown across The dark and terrible abyss of death. This opening speech and also Elsie's re* flection — The grave itself is but a covered bridge Leading from light to light through a brief

darkness — look as if they had been^ suggested bytwo stanzas in Longfellow's own translation of Capias de Manrique: — TEia world is but the Tugged road Which leads u» to the bright aboda Of peace *bove; So let viß choose that narrow wcy Which leads no traveller's foot astray From realms of love. Our days are covered o'er with grief, And sorrows neither few nor brief •Veil all in gloom.

On this Speuerbrucke are still preserved the famous "Dance of Death" pictures dating from the Sixteenth Century. All that go to and fro must look upon it, Mindful of what thoy shall be, while beneath, Among the wooden pil«s. the turbulent river Hushes impetuous aa the river of life. With dimpling eddies, ever green and bright, Save where the shadow of this bridge falls

on it. Death, "the grim musician," playing sometimes a lute, sometimes a drum, leads all mankind through the mazes of tho dance. Here are painted the young man singing to the nun, who turns from her prayers to look at him, while Death puts out the altar candles ; Death in jester's cap and bells dancing with the queen ; Death rattling his drum for the bride ; Deatn playing the dulcimer for a weary old woman with a rosary. Recollections of Longfellow rise naturally in this month of April, when the centenary of his birth is being celebrated. Another bridge, the old Kapellbrucke, attracts even more attention than the Speuerbrucke. It is a crooked et/uctnre of dark and heavy timber, with pointed! roof, and between the sides a narrow open space for light and air. From within and from outside the appearance is mediaeval and Swiss. In the centre is the octagonal Wasserturm (Water Tower) that was once the town treasury. The Kapellbrucke dates from 1333, and we can only marvel at the strength of timbers that outlast 6ix and a-half centuries. The use of wood in the architecture of bridges, cottages, and old buildings is a highly characteristic feature of Switzerland. Elsewhere in Europe stone or"brick are almost universal. However, Maorilanders must get rid of all the associations of our colonial wooden buildings. Here the wood, unless painted, is dark-hued, and looks almost as heavy and strong as stone, but not so dead and stiff. At least, it Ls an agreeable variety in this country.

— You never can tell about children's stories, but a London paper has a correspondent who sends this one: 'Sunday I happened to be coming out of the Temple Church when a little girl passed vith her father. I overheard a scrap of their conversation, which pf>rhap9 you will let mo repeat. ' That daddy,' said th© fair maiden, 'is the church where I wae ohrysalised ! ' "

— Never say again that a newspaper writer i« not a master of diplomacy. One of tho fraternity was to writ© up th© history of an okl lady of 98. He waa told ehe had never so much as learned her letters. Did he blurt it out in print? Not a bit of it. He merely stated in his finelywritten article that "she can read 1 the £ne«t print as well as she ever could." Woods' Great Peppermint Cure won't euro Your broken legs or hearts, Nor will it act, as a matter of fact, As a recipe for tarts; It won't cure nueura-lgia., temper, equinfs, For working men or toffs : But Woods' Great Peppermint Cure will

cure Your colds and cure your qough%