Under The Snow
Caroline J. Ladd
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: A Swiss Chalet
SWISS peasants are a bold and hardy race. Living, as by far the greater number do, from boyhood lives full of adventure and exposed to many dangers, they seldom if ever complain of their lot, and think no country in the world can be so beautiful as the hills and valleys of their native land.
The summers are short, though very lovely; the winters are long; and for months together the most hardy shepherd has to confess that every path up the steep hillside is so completely hidden by snow that it would be impossible for him to find his way across.
The paper is now yellow with age; the story, which will, I hope, not prove without interest to my young readers, was written many years ago in Swiss-French by a boy, Louis Lopraz, who with his aged grandfather was buried for three months under the snow in a Swiss chalet on the Jura Alps, and who, having found a small stock of paper with a pen and some ink in an old and quaintly carved oak chest, kept a journal of all that happened during the long and weary days of his imprisonment.
About the middle of May the Alpine shepherds collect their flocks and leave the valleys where, during the winter, they have spent much of their time in wood-carving and other useful occupations, and drive their cows, sheep and goats to the mountains, where during the summer the shepherds live in small wooden houses, called chalets, which they have built for themselves, and where they find plenty to occupy them in the care of their flocks and in making cheeses.
The day before their departure is kept as a general holiday, and the shepherds are accompanied to the foot of the mountains by their mothers, wives, sisters and daughters, also by the white-haired old men for whom resting-time has come. The elder boys go with their fathers, the younger children remain at home with their mothers.
Louis, who had not long before lost his mother, and was at the time too young for the toils and dangers of a summer on the mountains, was left in the care of his grandfather.
The ninth of October is usually the time of their return. The day had passed, and by twos and threes the shepherds had returned to their village homes, all except Francis, the father of Louis. The old man became anxious and uneasy. He said, "I must go myself, and find out what has become of Francis." Turning to his grandson he said, "Would you like to go with me?”
The boy was delighted. For weeks past he had been longing to see his father, and the prospect of a day upon the mountain, in the company of his dear old grandfather, just suited the daring, adventurous spirit of the boy. Early the next morning they set out on their journey, hoping to reach the chalet before sunset. As the old man was feeling the weight of fourscore years he could only walk slowly.
They followed the narrow and winding path up the mountain; sometimes it ran close to the brink of a frightful precipice. Louis, who was inclined to be somewhat reckless and self-willed, turned a deaf ear to the repeated warnings of his grandfather, and ran to the brink to gaze into the depths below. When they were about a mile from the chalet, he got into a position of such danger that, forgetting his age and weakness, the old man sprang forward, and with a great effort dragged the boy into a place of safety.
But in doing so he loosened a stone, over which he fell and sprained his ankle. Louis, who truly loved his grandfather, was really grieved when he saw what trouble had been caused by his thoughtlessness and disobedience. He begged forgiveness with many tears, and gave his grandfather the best help he could during the rest of the journey, which took them nearly two hours.
To their great joy they found Francis quite well, and preparing to leave the chalet; earlier in the day he had sent his cheeses down in the care of his cousin Peter, who must have taken another path and so had not met the travelers. He intended to leave himself with his flocks early on the following morning; the illness of two of his best cows had prevented him from leaving at the time the other shepherds had done, but all was now in readiness.
He gave his father and son a warm welcome, and hastened to bathe the old man's foot. Louis, who was very hungry, could not help casting many wistful looks towards a large pot which was boiling over the fire. His father saw it, and soon all were ready for their evening meal. A large bowl was filled with a thick porridge made by boiling maize flour in milk.
“I wish the child was safe in the valley," said the grandfather. "The wind changed half an hour ago, and may bring bad weather.”
“Yes," said Francis; "we must not delay our journey later than sunrise to-morrow. A night's rest will, I hope, give you strength for the journey.”
The grandfather, who was a simple, but true Christian, in a few touching words thanked God for His care of them during the day, and asked His blessing and protection for the morrow.
Louis, who was very tired, soon fell asleep, though his father and grandfather talked for a long time after supper. When he awoke in the morning he saw the mountain white with snow. His grandfather's foot was much more swollen than it had been the night before, and so painful that he could not put it to the ground. What was to be done? The journey must not be put off another day, for though the first snow had fallen earlier than usual, the shepherds saw grave reason to fear a violent storm would follow.
“You must start at once, Francis," said the old man. "Take the child and the flocks with you; leave me here. To-morrow, if the weather is not too bad, you can return with Peter, and one or two of our kind neighbors, bringing a litter, as I fear you will have to carry me down the mountain.”
“No, father, I cannot agree to that," said Francis. "If you can get upon my back I will carry you. I cannot leave you here.”
“No," said the grandfather. "You could not, with my added weight, descend the mountain paths, already rendered slippery by the snow, with safety; besides you would have to guide the child, and look after the flocks.”
Louis begged with many tears to be allowed to stay with his grandfather. At last the old man said, "Francis, I believe the child is right. You will travel better without either of us. Leave the goat with us, and if possible return to-morrow with a litter, for I fear it will be some days before I am able to walk.”
It took some time to collect the flocks, but at last all were in readiness, and with anxious hearts Louis and his grandfather watched the departure till the windings of the path hid them from view.
Chapter 2: A Storm Upon the Mountain
LOUIS and his grandfather were alone in the chalet. They remained for some time at the window, hoping to catch another glimpse of Francis and his flocks. For some minutes the old man did not speak, but his hands were clasped, and his lips moved as if in silent prayer. At last he whispered to his grandson, "Have faith in God," then, sinking upon his knees, he prayed very earnestly for the safety of his son. Louis knelt by his side, and in his own simple words asked God to take care of his father.
The wind that had been blowing freshly for some time increased in violence, and flakes of snow were falling thick and fast. Masses of black clouds darkened the sky, and night came suddenly on. The wooden timepiece in the chalet struck the hour of three, but it was already dark. Neither Louis or his grandfather had tasted food since the early morning, but hunger was for a time forgotten in the strangeness and terror of their situation.
“May God have mercy upon my son!" said the old man, adding in a more hopeful tone, "Francis must have been well out of the forest before the violence of the storm came on, so let us trust in God, and hope that he and the flocks have reached the village safely.”
The bleating of the goat reminded them that it was long past her usual hour of milking. Louis lighted the lamp, and helped his grandfather to reach the stable, which was strongly built against the side of the chalet. The goat seemed to show almost human pleasure as they entered the stable, and almost broke the cord by which she was tied in her efforts to get near them. Louis gave her a handful of salt, which she liked very much, and licked his hand over and over again so as not to lose a morsel.
“Poor Blanchette!" said the grandfather.
“Now, Louis, you will have to milk her, as I cannot yet stand without great pain.”
The goat at first appeared inclined to resent his unskillful handling, but after a little patience and some instructions from his grandfather he got on very well, and the goat gave them a good can of milk, for which they were very thankful.
As they sat at supper the grandfather said, "We must take great care of Blanchette; we must feed her as well as we can, and never forget to milk her night and morning. Our lives may depend upon hers.”
Louis looked at his grandfather with a strange, new fear coming over him. "Do you think we shall have to remain here long?" he asked.
“I cannot say," was the reply. "All we can do is to trust in God, and make the best use we can, of any stores of food we may find in the chalet.”
The storm grew louder and wilder as the hours passed slowly by. Gusts of wind swept the side of the mountain with such fury that more than once Louis thought the chalet would be swept away. His grandfather bade him have no fears on that account, as it was strongly built, and had withstood many a storm, though he added, "I do not remember one of greater fury than the one now raging.”
So much snow fell down the wide, open chimney, that they soon found it was impossible to keep their fire burning. "We shall only find warmth in bed," said the grandfather. "Let us, then, ask again for the care and protection of God the snow were a hundred times deeper than it is it would not hide us from Him. ‘The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.' The darkness and the light are alike to, Him. Trusting in His care we will both lie down and sleep in peace.”
When Louis awoke the following morning he was surprised to find that it was still dark, and was just going to sleep again when he heard his grandfather moving about, and called to ask him why he had risen before daylight. The old man replied, "If we wait for daylight we shall stay in bed all day. The storm has continued all night, and the door and window are snowed up.”
With a cry of terror Louis sprang out of bed. The clock had just struck seven; he went to the door, but the weight of the snow that had drifted against it prevented him from opening it. Bursting into tears, he exclaimed, "This is dreadful; we are buried alive! Do you think father will be able to reach us?”
“I fear not, but God will not forget us," said his grandfather. "We must in some way contrive to reach Blanchette and bring her into our living room. When the storm abates we will again light our fire. We must never forget to wind up our clock, as we shall be glad to know how the time goes. While we depend upon the care of God we must not be idle, but do all we can to help ourselves.”
Louis found that the snowdrift was not so deep as he had at first thought, and after a short time was able to make his way to the stable. The exertion had sent a warm glow all over his body, and as he led the goat in the sun shone out brilliantly. Never before had sunshine seemed so bright and beautiful to the boy. But the bright gleam did not last long. The wind rose, the clouds returned, and snow again fell heavily.
“We may have to remain here for some time, Louis," said the aged grandfather, "so we must lose no time in learning how much food we have in the chalet, then we will divide it into daily portions, and so make it last as long as possible. We can hardly hope to leave our prison-house before the spring, for even if, through the mercy of God, your father and the flocks have reached the valley safely, the roads are by this time so blocked with snow that I fear no one will be able to come to our help.”
Louis felt very sad, and could not help shedding tears as he thought of his father, who might have perished with his flocks in the snow. If he had reached his home safely, would he not, the boy thought, have found some way of coming to their help. He remembered, too, his mother, how kind and patient she had always been. Only a little while before he had stood by her open grave, and it grieved him to think how often he had caused her pain by thoughtlessness or disobedience.
His sadness was not unnoticed by his grandfather, who began to talk to him in such a kind, cheerful way, telling him stories of his own boyhood, that Louis smiled through his tears, and for a little while almost forgot his troubles.
Chapter 3: Fresh Troubles
FOR five days Louis and his grandfather had been imprisoned in the chalet. Each day their hope that Francis would return with a party of the villagers and attempt their rescue grew fainter. The goat had grown quite friendly with Louis, who always treated her kindly, and never forgot to milk her night and morning. In the stable they found a rack well filled with hay, so they were able to feed her well, and her milk was a welcome addition to their frugal meals. Every nook and corner in the chalet had been carefully searched to see what food had been left by Francis. It was not much, but for what there was they were truly thankful.
In the store-chest they found a bag of flour, a few loaves of bread, so hard that it was impossible to cut them with a knife, but Louis exclaimed joyfully, "There is an old hatchet in the tool-chest; it is very notched, and the saw is broken, but even with bad tools I feel sure we shall be able to chop or saw our bread." They also found a little salt, some ground coffee, and a small quantity of oil and lard.
The storm still raged outside, the wind increased in fury, and heavy masses of snow drifted against the walls of the chalet. So much came down their wide, open chimney that it was only at rare intervals they were able to light their fire, though they had a good stock of wood and a large sack filled with fir-cones, which Louis had collected when, during the summer months, he had paid a holiday visit to his father.
“Father made a sliding trap-door to the chimney," said Louis; "he told me it was to protect the chalet from rain. If I could only get up the chimney and unfasten it, leaving only a small space by which the smoke could escape, we might often enjoy the blaze of a cheerful fire. I do not like being always in the dark.”
“Neither do I," replied the old man, "If we had a ladder I do not think it would be difficult.”
“We have no ladder, grandfather; still, I think it can be done. In the stable there is a long fir pole; the bark is quite rough, and I have often climbed trees of which the stem was no thicker; I have watched the chimney-sweepers go up chimneys, and I feel sure that I could climb in the same way.”
After a good deal of trouble the fir pole was fixed in the chimney, and Louis tied a cord round his waist, by which to take up a shovel, and began to climb. Pressing his hands and feet against the walls of the chimney, he reached the roof, and began to shovel away the snow in order to find the trapdoor. What a sight met his eyes! The whole of the mountain, and the landscape as far as his eye could reach, looked, as he afterward told his grandfather, like one great, white carpet. After some time he found the trap-door and succeeded in fixing it so as to leave only a small opening by which the smoke could escape.
Louis got safely down the chimney; his clothes were wet through, and he was very tired, but bright and happy in knowing that he had been able to do such a useful piece of work. A bright fire, made of fir-cones and branches, was soon burning on the hearth, and his grandfather helped him to dry his clothes. They had no light but that of the fire, for they found that their, supply of oil was so small that they decided that they could only afford to light the lamp when milking the goat or doing some work for which a good light was really needed. They made up their minds not to eat the lard, as if the oil did not hold out it might be burnt in the lamp.
As the grandfather felt it would be in every way good for the boy to provide him with some useful occupation, he spread some wood ashes upon the hearth, in the way that in some schools he had seen sand used, and encouraged Louis to improve his knowledge of arithmetic.
One day, while thus engaged, he thought he felt a great heat behind him, and, turning quickly round, he saw that a sheaf of straw which stood in the far corner of the room, had caught fire. Louis threw himself upon it and tried to put it out with his hands, but only burnt them, without being able to extinguish the flames.
His grandfather, forgetting his pain and weakness, grasped the burning sheaf and carried it to the open hearth, at the same time calling upon Louis to remove everything that would burn, while, with a pitchfork, he held the sheaf. It was an anxious moment. It seemed as if the last straw would never burn. Sparks flew here and there. If the bed caught fire they would have no hope of escape, but must be burnt alive within the walls of their snow prison.
Poor Louis began to cry. His grandfather reminded him that it would be better to pray, as cut off as they were from all hope of human help, the eye of God was upon them, and He could, if He saw fit, prevent the flames from spreading. Minutes seemed like hours, but at last the flames went out, and they were left in total darkness, having received no injury beyond a few slight burns. But it was a long time before they felt themselves really safe. The goat, to their great delight, did not seem to have suffered, and gave them a good can of milk.
The old grandfather said, "The same danger may occur again, and we must be better prepared to meet it. There is in the stable a large, empty cask. We must stave in one end and fill it with snow, which will soon melt. We shall then have a constant supply of water close at hand." The cask was found, and with the help of an old hammer and chisel the head was taken out and the cask filled with snow, which was again falling heavily.
Soon after Louis searched every corner of the chalet in the hope of finding more provisions or books, as both his father and grandfather were, he knew, great readers, and he thought if he could find any old volume they might, he hoped, be able to read it by firelight, and so make the hours of their imprisonment seem shorter. He found a plank, which had been used to cover a small niche in the wall, had slipped from its place. Behind it he found a copy in Swiss-French of Martin Luther's translation of the Bible.
The book, though old, was entire, and clearly printed. Louis was greatly pleased, but his grandfather wept tears of joy, saying, "Ah! my child, though we are alone we are not forsaken. In the goodness of God we have food that will for some weeks support our bodies, and now we have the most precious food for our souls, the written word of God. He could have given us no greater treasure.”
Chapter 4: A Gleam of Sunshine
EVERY morning and evening the Bible, which they read by the light of their wood fire, proved of the greatest possible comfort, not only to the aged grandfather, but to Louis, who seemed to have grown grave and thoughtful beyond his years. Together they committed whole chapters to memory, "for then," said the aged pilgrim, "should our stock of firewood not hold out, or should we, from any cause, be unable to light our fire, we shall not be entirely deprived of the help and encouragement of the word of God.”
“I fear," said Louis one evening, "that my dear father met with some accident or was frozen to death upon the mountain, and so never reached the village. Were he still alive he surely would have found some way, with the help of the neighbors, who were always kind to us, of coming to rescue us from our snow prison. He would know quite well that the small stock of food left in the chalet could not last very long, and how could he be content to remain in the village, and think that we were starving, perhaps dying here?”
“I feel sure," replied his grandfather, "that if Francis is, as I hope and believe he is, still alive, he would have done everything within his power to bring us help; but perhaps he could not get the neighbors to share his fears, and single-handed he could not have set us free.”
“Do you really think," asked Louis, "that our neighbors, with whom we have always lived on the most friendly terms, would have been less kind than the miners, of whose courage father has told me, who risked their lives in a brave attempt to rescue some of their comrades who were shut up in a coal-mine, where an explosion had taken place?”
“I will not hide from you, my dear Louis," replied his grandfather, "that I cannot quite understand why it is that no one has come to our help; for if even, as you fear, your father has met with some accident, every one in the village would know of our danger, and must have wished to come to our help. But let us trust in God, and wait patiently till He sees good to deliver us. Let us not forget how many are worse off than ourselves. We have food that with care may last for some weeks. We are also able to enjoy for some time each day the warmth and cheerful blaze of a fire, and by its light to read the promises of God's blessed book.”
The days passed slowly by, but, acting on the advice of his grandfather, Louis began to find new ways of employing himself. He had often seen his father twine straws into long cords, which during the short months of summer were found of great use in tying up pea-stalks, and also for binding sheaves of oats and maize. After a little practice Louis found that he could twine the cords with a fair degree of skill. Sitting as near the fire as he could with] safety, he worked in the space lighted by its cheerful glow. His grandfather handed him the straws, and often made the time pass pleasantly by telling him something that he had read, for during the years that he had been unable to work the old man had been a great reader, many books of history and travel having been lent him through the kindness of a well-to-do neighbor.
One day when Louis seemed more than usually silent over his work, his grandfather noticed his tears were falling, though he tried to hide them, and begged him to tell the cause of his sadness. Louis was silent for a few moments, then said, "I am sad because I cannot forget that my self-will and disobedience have brought all this trouble not only upon myself, but upon you, my dear grandfather. Had I not turned a deaf ear to your warnings of danger, and gone so near to the side of the ravine, you would not have fallen and sprained your ankle, and so been unable to return with my father and his flocks. I know you have forgiven me, but I cannot forgive myself.”
“Do not let your mind dwell upon it, my dear boy," said his grandfather; "or if you think of it at all, let it be a life-lesson to you, that our actions, for good or evil, have an influence reaching far beyond ourselves—they touch the lives of others, who are either helped or hindered by them. But let us turn our minds to some more pleasant subject. Can you not sing or repeat to me the Harvest Song the schoolmaster taught you only a few weeks ago?”
Louis dried his tears, and began to sing:
“HARVEST HOME”
“The summer now is ended,
The autumn late has come,
The fields we early tended
Send late their yearlings home.
Sing merrily, for though
The Alps are white with snow,
The sun shines bright below,
The sheaves stand in a row.
Praise ye the Lord!
"The wood is under cover,
The barn is stored with hay,
The loads of oats and barley,
Move slowly on their way.
Sing merrily, for though
The Alps are white with snow,
The sun shines warm below,
The sheaves stand in a row.
Praise ye the Lord!”
For several days Louis had noticed that his grandfather did not seem as well as usual.
His strength appeared to be failing, and he ate less and less of the maize porridge that formed their daily food. Louis was greatly distressed, and begged him to drink a little of the coffee, which still remained untasted.
After a good deal of urging he allowed Louis to prepare him a cup, though the boy firmly refused to drink any himself, saying, "No, grandfather, I am young and strong; maize and milk are all I need. You need something more.”
Though the door and window of the chalet were completely blocked with snow, Louis, after a good deal of labor, contrived one morning to bore a small hole through the snow, and found to his great delight that the sun was shining brightly. "Grandfather," he said, "only yesterday I heard you say that if you could only get a little fresh air it would do you good. We have a spade; I feel sure that I can clear a small space just outside the door, where if only for a few feet you will be able to enjoy the sunshine and fresh breezes of the mountain.”
Louis set to work with a will, and though he found the work much harder than he had expected, the thought that he was doing something that would be of real use gave him strength and courage to persevere. After digging for about an hour, he felt well repaid for his trouble when, leaning upon a shepherd's staff, and supported by the arm of his grandson, the old man stepped out into the cleared space and enjoyed for a little while the beauty of the morning, though, as he pointed out to Louis, it would not last long, as dark masses of clouds were rising behind the hills, and he thought that in a few hours another and still more severe storm might be upon them.
Chapter 5: Unwelcome Visitors
AS their small stock of firewood would not allow Louis and his grandfather to enjoy the light and warmth of a fire more than a few hours daily, Louis said, "Does it not seem hard, grandfather, that owing to the want of light we are obliged to pass so many of our waking hours not only in darkness but in idleness?”
"The darkness is, I must own, somewhat trying," replied the grandfather; "but if we could employ ourselves usefully we should, I believe, think less of it. Suppose that you and I learn to plait straw in the dark; after a little practice we shall, I have no doubt, be able to do really good work.”
They set to work with a will, and after a little failure got on so well that when they looked at their work by the light, of the lamp they were so well pleased with it that Louis forgot his low spirits, and talked of plaiting straw enough to make a hat for his father.
The storm the grandfather had foreseen was not long in coming. Towards night the wind that had blown in gusts rose to a gale, and snowflakes soon completely hid every trace of the clearing upon which Louis had spent so much time and labor. For two days and nights the storm raged with unabated fury.
The goat, which still gave a good supply of milk, had become a great pet with both. Louis, who had learned how to milk her with some degree of skill, would often stroke her fondly, and say, "If ever we are released from our snow prison, you, my dear Blanchette, will always be our favorite goat, and when you die it shall be of old age.”
On the morning of the third day, as Louis milked her, he noticed that she trembled violently. He could not understand the cause of her distress. A few moments later he heard a low, dismal howling, and throwing his arms round her he started up with a cry of terror. "Oh! grandfather, grandfather, the wolves are upon us! Hark, they are coming nearer! To be eaten by those savage creatures would be a more dreadful death than to die within the walls of our snow prison. What shall we do?”
“We will be still, and trust in the God who long ago closed the mouths of the lions, and would not allow them to touch the prophet Daniel. He is able to protect us. Hunger has driven the wolves from the forests, but from what I know of their habits they will not remain long upon the mountains, but go down to the villages. We now see the mercy of God in allowing the chalet to be completely hidden by the deep snow that has fallen since the storm began, or it is possible that the famished beasts would have found an entrance by the chimney. But speak low, for if they hear our voices they will remain prowling round the chalet. Caress Blanchette, and do all you can to soothe her; her bleating may betray us.”
It seemed as if the goat almost understood the terror of their situation, for though she still trembled violently she did not utter a sound.
Louis held the goat in his arms. His grandfather sat close to him with his hand resting upon the shoulder of his grandson, while his lips moved in silent prayer. It was a comfort to the poor boy to know that he was there, so calm and trustful, and through blinding tears he himself looked up to God, and prayed that they might not fall a prey to the hungry wolves.
All through his life Louis remembered the terror of that hour. Sometimes the wolves came very near, and once or twice he thought he heard them trying to scrape away the snow. At such times he would throw one arm round his grandfather, and ask, in a voice broken with sobs, "Do you think we are still safe?”
“I will not hide from you, My dear boy," replied the old man, “that we are in a painful and trying position, but I do not think that we are in any very great danger. The wolves may have dragged up here the body of some animal, and are now fighting for it. They may weary us with their noise and yet not be allowed to do us any harm. Even if they should scent us the snow is too deep and hard for them to make a path to the door, and they would not know where to find the window.
“It was indeed the mercy of God that the wolves did not come upon us before the storm began. They might have come while you were at work making the clearing by which you hoped we might enjoy a little sunshine and fresh air. The storm has destroyed your work, but in the great mercy of God it has been the means of saving our lives. We must be more careful in future and not venture outside the chalet or try to open the door.”
After a time, which seemed to them much longer than it really was, the howling became much fainter, and at last died away altogether, but it was many hours before they could believe that the wolves had really gone. At last they found courage to light their fire and prepare some food, of which they stood in great need, as it was many hours since they had eaten anything.
Chapter 6: Sad and Lonely Days
THOUGH the wolves did not pay a second visit to the chalet, Louis did not find it easy to forget the alarm their near approach had caused. At night he would often wake with a startled cry, and fancy he could hear them howling in the distance, or that nearer still they were trying to find a way of getting into the chalet. At such times his grandfather would remind him of the goodness and care of God, who would not, he felt sure, forget them in their lonely prison. He very often spoke of the Lord Jesus Christ, and Louis never seemed to grow tired of listening to the story of His wondrous birth, His life, His death and resurrection, for when the aged pilgrim spoke of Him, Louis always felt that to him the Lord Jesus was not only a. Savior, but a personal friend, to whom he had given his heart's deepest affection.
During the many hours which they were obliged to spend in darkness each day, Louis had become quite an adept at straw plaiting. "Grandfather," he said, "I seem to have eyes at the tips of my fingers, for though it is quite dark, if I make even a very slight mistake I can detect it by touch. I can understand now the interesting stories you have told me of blind people who, by patience and perseverance, were able to do things that seemed really wonderful.”
But as the days went slowly by, Louis almost forgot his fear of the wolves in anxiety about his grandfather, who, he could not help seeing, was gradually growing weaker. Every day he ate less, and more than once Louis tried to tempt his appetite by making a cupful of Blanchette's milk into a soft, white cheese; but though he smiled and thanked him for the trouble he had taken, he seemed unable to do more than taste it. He went to bed earlier, and rose later; he was not, he said, ill, only very tired, and he missed the fresh air and sunshine.
During the brief hour in which they were able to enjoy lamplight, Louis often employed himself in writing the journal from which the facts of our story are gathered. One evening, while so employed, his grandfather asked him to lend him his book and pen. Louis handed them to him without a word, though he wondered if his grandfather too intended to keep a journal. If he did, Louis had not, he thought, left much for him to tell. After bowing his head for a few minutes in silent prayer, he told Louis he was about to make his will, and wrote as follows:
“In case I am taken from my children I desire them to know my last will. I desire to acknowledge the love and devotion of my dear grandson, Louis Lopraz, now present, and as it is impossible to offer him my last gift on this day, I wish my heirs to supply it, and to give him for me my repeater watch, my gun, my Bible, which belonged to my father, and my seal ring on which is engraved my initials, the same as those of my son and grandson.
“This is my last will.
“LOUIS LOPRAZ.
January 9, 18—.
He then returned the book to Louis, who shed many tears over the freshly written page. The next day his grandfather seemed weaker than usual, but towards evening he rallied a little and said to Louis, "My dear boy, I feel the end of my life is very near. For myself I have no fear. For many years I have trusted in the merits of my Redeemer. My sorrows and my fears are all for you. Had such been the will of God, I would gladly have lived till the long-looked-for hour of our release came. I have often pictured to myself with what joy we should descend the mountain, with Blanchette running in front of us, and of the glad welcome we should receive from your father and uncles, to whom we should seem almost as those alive from the dead.
“But I no longer think this will be possible. My life is, I feel, almost ended. You will, I know, feel very sad and lonely after my death, but in one way it will be better for you. Our stock of food, already very low, will last some days or even weeks longer when I am not needing any. Do not lose faith in God. You will, I believe, yet see your father. I have prayed often that you may do so, and I feel sure my prayers will be answered. I know you will shed many tears, but be brave and patient, and above all, trust in the love and care of God, who has said, 'I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.'”
Louis seemed almost broken-hearted, and in a voice shaken by sobs begged his grandfather not to speak of leaving him alone in the chalet.
“It is better, my dear boy, that you should know it now," replied the old man; "then the shock and the sorrow will not be so great. You know the door leading into the dairy is close to our bed; ask God to give you strength to remove my body into it. When the spring comes, our friends and neighbors will carry my remains down the mountain, and bury them in our village churchyard near the graves of my wife and my father.”
Later in the day, while sitting by the fire, he fainted, and fell forward. He might have been severely burned had not Louis, with a strength that surprised himself, rushed to his help, and though not without a great effort succeeded in dragging him on to the bed. He revived a little, and said feebly, "Where am I?" Louis brought him a little coffee, and after taking a few sips he appeared better. "Bring Blanchette here, and let me stroke her for the last time," he said. Louis obeyed, and the faithful goat licked the hand that had so often fed her.
After two or three more days of great weakness he passed peacefully away, whispering words of prayer and blessing, and holding the hand of his grandson to the last.
Chapter 7: A Joyful Ending
POOR Louis! His cup of sorrow seemed indeed to have been filled to the brim. For some time he stood by the lifeless remains of his grandfather, rubbing his hands and trying to persuade himself that he had only fainted; but when, in spite of all his efforts, they grew stiff and cold, he knew that the spirit of the old man had returned to the God who gave it, but he still remained by the bed silent and tearless. At last a flood of tears came to his relief, and throwing himself upon his knees he sobbed out, "My dear grandfather, though you can no longer hear my voice, I will not forget your teachings. My heart is very full of sorrow, but I will put my trust in God, and do as you would have wished me, had it pleased God to spare your life till the hour of our release.”
At last, worn out by the violence of his grief, he lay down upon the ground near Blanchette. Sad and lonely as the boy was, it was a comfort to know that the goat was alive and warm. He caressed her fondly, and after a time sobbed himself to sleep. When he awoke, the wooden clock in the chalet was striking the hour of seven.
What had happened? At first he could not remember, but he rose and lighted the lamp, then one glance in the direction of the bed brought it all back to his mind, and his tears again flowed freely.
“But this will not do," he said aloud, "while I trust in God, I must do all I can to help myself." He wound the clock, milked and fed the goat, and prepared some breakfast, of which he stood greatly in need. He then began to think how he could remove the body of his grandfather into the dairy.
A thought full of sweetness and comfort seemed flashed into his mind. Though without one earthly friend in that snow prison, Christ was, he felt, his Savior and his Friend. God would give him strength for the sad task that lay before him. While the severe frost lasted, the body would not, he knew, change or decompose, but what if the wolves should return and eat the body?
He could not bear the thought, so made up his mind to try and bury it. He prayed earnestly that God would give him strength and courage, then, taking his tools, he opened the door of the dairy. The floor was only light, dry sand, and he did not find digging nearly such hard work as he had expected. In about two hours he had dug a hole large enough to contain the body of his grandfather, which on the next day, after many efforts, he succeeded in placing within it.
The cold each day seemed to grow more severe, and Louis found to his sorrow and alarm that the stock of food that remained both for himself and the goat was so small that it could not last more than a few days; they must either starve or quit the chalet. But how? The goat gave less milk, sometimes not more than half a cupful, and Louis, even if now and then he thought of killing her, would not allow his mind to dwell upon the thought. He would stroke her fondly, and say, "No, Blanchette, you have been a good friend to us, and it would almost break my heart to take your life. Besides, if I were to become a butcher, your flesh would not last me many days, and I should then be worse off than before.
“No, we must try to leave the chalet together. The wolves travel over the hard, frozen snow, why should not we? If I had a good sledge I could tie you behind, and it would be no worse to perish in the snowdrifts than to die of hunger in the chalet.”
Louis had often helped his schoolfellows to make the small sledges with which they amused themselves by running races, and he knew quite well how to guide one. He set to work with a will to collect all the wood there was in the chalet, choosing the best and strongest for his sledge. He had not many tools, and much of the work had to be done in the dark, but, like most of the Swiss peasants, he had a natural talent for woodwork.
The work took him a long time, and it was not until the middle of February that everything was in readiness for the bold attempt he longed to make.
He gave the goat the last handful of hay in, the rack, and ate the last morsel of food that he could find in the chalet. After kneeling for a time in prayer, with great difficulty he opened the door, and began to dig a path wide enough for the sledge.
He had not been so employed long when he heard strange sounds. "The wolves, the wolves!" was his first thought, and with a cry of terror he rushed into the chalet and shut the door. But no, the sounds he heard were not the howling, of wolves. They were surely human voices. He heard his own name, he knew the voice—it was his father's. The voices came nearer, and he heard them making, the path he had begun wider.
His father could not wait till the way was clear, but forcing a passage through the snow, rushed in, took Louis in his arms, and pressed him to his heart. "Where is grandfather?" at last he asked. The boy could not speak, but taking his father's hand he led him to the grave. In a moment Francis understood it all, and they wept together.
“When the snow has melted enough to make it possible," he said, "we will return with a litter and carry the body of my dear father to the village churchyard; but we must lose no time to-day, as we may have more snow, and even if we have not, our return will not be easy.”
They were then joined by two of Louis's uncles and their servant Peter, who all expressed their delight and surprise at finding him still alive.
After almost four months of darkness and imprisonment, the fresh mountain air and bright outdoor light were almost more than Louis could bear, so it was decided to place him on the sledge, which his father would allow no hand but his own to drive. Peter took charge of the goat, and as all the men of the party carried guns they did not fear an attack from wolves.
For a few moments they all knelt in prayer, that God in His mercy would grant them a safe journey. Louis placed his grandfather's Bible and his journal in the sledge, and whispered to his father, "I am not afraid, for has not the Lord. Jesus said, ' Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.'" (John 14:27.)
The homeward journey was rapid, and, though in some places dangerous, the whole party reached the village without accident. Many friends came to welcome them, and the joy of Louis in being once more under his father's roof, and surrounded by kind neighbors and happy schoolfellows, was almost too great for words.
Such is the simple story of one of the dangers to which the Swiss peasants are exposed during their long and severe winters. They do not always escape, and many lives have been lost during the violent snow-storms that occur every winter on the Alps; but surely the story we have just read should help us all to trust more simply in the goodness and care of God.
C. J. L.
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