Three months under the snow

Introduction

Remarkable as are tlie events recorded in this journal, this story is not a work of the imagination. It would not surprise any one who is acquainted with these mountainous countries, and the accidents to which their inhabitants are exposed.

Since this history has been put together not merely to amuse, but also to instruct, we will describe in a few words the places where the circumstances happened, as well as the hard and laborious life of the inhabitants of the Jura. This will render the recital both more clear and more interesting.

The Jura is a chain of mountains formed of several parallel chains, running from

INTRODUCTION.

Basle, in Switzerland, into France, and skirting the department of the Doubs, the Tura, and the Ain, in a direction from N.N.E. to S.S.W. It is about one hundred and twenty-five miles in length, and from thirty-five to thirty-six in breadth. The Jura contains a great number of valleys, and some of its peaks are of great height. Among these are distinguished Le Reculet , which is nearly seven thousand feet above the level of the sea ; the Dole and Mont Tendre , which are above six thousand five hundred.

It is important to understand these details, because it is in a great measure the difference in the height of the mountains which renders them more or less habitable, for the atmosphere becomes colder in proportion to their height, and vegetation more scarce in proportion to the shortness of the summer; the snow descends upon them at a very early season, and there are some mountains so high that the snow never entirely melts upon them.

But all the mountains of the Jura divest themselves of the snow every year; some

INTRODUCTION.

vegetation is to be seen even on the highest peaks ; on many points they are covered with magnificent forests of beech, oak, and particularly pines, while other parts offer excellent pastures, where they feed the finest cattle, oxen, sheep, and goats. Nevertheless these fine mountains are not habitable for more than five months in the year, namely, from May or June until the beginning of October.

As soon as the snows are melted and the peaks begin to look green, the villages, all built in the valleys or on the lower declivities, send forth their flocks to the mountains. The day of their departure is a holiday, although the poor shepherds are going to banish themselves far from their families, during the whole of the fine season, to lead a hard laborious life, deprived of every comfort. During that time their chief diet is milk ; they have only water to drink, and pass their whole time in feeding their flocks and making those cheeses which are called frontages de Gruyere.

These are made on the mountain. There every shepherd has a chalet, a miserable

INTRODUCTION.

house, most commonly built of stone. It is covered with strips of fir, called bardeaux or tavillons (shingles) ; large stones placed at intervals press them down with their weight, and prevent them from being carried away by the storms. The interior of the chalet is divided into three compartments ; a wellclosed stable to lodge the cattle at night ; a narrow and cool dairy, where the milk is deposited in tubs of whitewood ; and a kitchen, serving at the same time for a bedchamber, where the poor herdsman has often nothing but straw for his bed. This kitchen has a vast chimney, under which there hangs an immense caldron, to heat the milk and convert it into cheese.

During the whole time of their remaining in the mountains, the herdsmen seldom see any person except a few strangers who are visiting the country. They willingly give them their cream, and receive in return a little new bread, a very rare delicacy in these chalets. However, these herdsmen never complain of their lot; they never wish to change their condition ; they love their rude solitudes, and remain faithful to

INTRODUCTION. 9

the customs, the labors, and the hearths of their fathers.

Their summer campaign does not end before the feast of St. Denis, the 9th of October. When they leave the mountain it is a holiday, like that of their departure from home, but much happier, because they are now going to revisit their families. Other labors of a different nature now begin at the village. These mountaineers, whose only resource is in themselves, are very skillful ; they make household utensils, tools, furniture ; and cut and carve a number of pretty articles in wood, which, being sold in tho neighborhood, are carried to every part of Europe.

During their long winter days the children study under the paternal roof, tho way io the school not being always open. Gathered round their parents, many children acquire a taste for study, read together some interesting book, and thus instruct themselves while they amuse their family.

One young villager there is, not of an uncultivated mind, and we have therefore

INTRODUCTION.

preferred letting him speak for himself. He will inform us how he was induced to draw up this journal, and how he found <he means of doing it, when, by a train of ( ircumstances with which he will acquaint us presently, he found himself with his grandfather imprisoned in a chalet.

We hope, young friends, that you may never he exposed to such severe sufferings ; hut in the course of your life you will often require patience and courage. The example of Louis Lopraz will convince you that even a child, who, hy the grace of the Holy Spirit, puts his trust in God through Jesus Christ, is capable of exertions hardly to be expected at his age.

You will learn that the school of affliction is often the most useful to a man, and that the divine goodness shows itself as clearly toward us in adversity as in prosperity.

Chapter I

REASONS FOR DIARY — DELAY ON THE MOUNTAIN — LEAV- ING THE VILLAGE ACCIDENT — CONVERSATION — FALL CP

SNOW — DIFFICULTIES OF RETURN — DEPARTURE OF THE

FATHER VIOLENT WINDS “ BLANCHETTE” FIRST

NIGHT FEARS ON WAKING DIARY — CHIMNEY

CLEARS A PASSAGE-WAY HOPES OF RESCUE PAGE 13

Chapter II. Narrow Escape From Fire Continues Snowing

MEANS OF SUBSISTENCE — FURNITURE OF THE CHALET — DISCOVERY OF A BOOK REFLECTIONS — PROBABIL- ITIES OF AID FROM THE VILLAGE — FEARS FOR HIS FATHER OPPORTUNITIES FOR IMPROVEMENT 34

CHAPTER m.

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS — PLAITING 8TRAW — HOPELESS CON- DITION CHANGE OF “ BLANCHETTE ” — PLAN OF ESCAPE

EXERTIONS IN THE SNOW — ACCIDENT — TERRIBLE

HURRICANE INSTRUCTIVE REMARKS — DANGER OF SUF- FOCATION— SEVERE COLD 53

Chapter IV. Blanchette — Wolves — Depression Of Spirits — 80 N

DAY IN THE CHALET — DIET EXHORTATION HIS

GRANDFATHER’S ILLNESS — TUBE — ITS USEFULNESS —

WRITES FOR HIS GRANDFATHER PRECAUTIONS —

NEW DISCOVERY 73

I

CONTENTS,

Chapter V

CHEERFUL CONVERSATION — LONGS FOR EMPLOYMENT- PLAITING STRAW — RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS — HIS GRAND- FATHER’S CONTINUED ILLNESS — HIS REMARKS CONCERN- ING DEATH — ATTEMPTS MAKING CHEESE PAGE 96

Chapter VI

KIND INSTRUCTIONS — DARKNESS — 8ERIOUS THOUGHTS — VILLAGE SCHOOL — SADNESS — THOUGHTS ON NEW- YEAR’S DAY — GRANDFATHER’S GIFTS — COMFORTS — ALARMING ILLNESS KIND ATTENTIONS GRANDFA- THER’S TALK OF DEATH — IMPATIENCE..., 109

CHAPTER vn.

MEANS OF LIGHTING — HIS GRANDFATHER’S LAST HOURS — HIS PRAYER — PARTING WORDS — HIS DESOLATION — THE BURIAL — ADDRESS — READS OVER HIS JOUR- NAL 130

CHAPTER VIH.

DEPRESSION OF SPIRITS — FEARFUL ACCIDENT — FOOD

FAILS — DREADS KILLING BLANCHETTE THINKS OF

LEAVING THE CHALET PREPARES A SLEDGE AT

HOME — THE RESCUE FROM IMPRISONMENT EMBRACE

— DESCEND TO THE VILLAGE — HIS FATHER’S TRIALS

— CONCLUDING REFLECTIONS 163

UNDER THE SNOW.

Chapter I

REASONS FOR DIARY — DELAY ON THE MOUNTAIN — LEAV- ING THE VILLAGE ACCIDENT CONVERSATION — FALL OF

SNOW — DIFFICULTIES OF RETURN — DEPARTURE OF THE

FATHER VIOLENT WINDS “ BLANCHETTE*’ FIRST

NIGHT — FEARS ON WAKING — DIARY — CHIMNEY — CLEARS A PASSAGE-WAY — HOPE8 OF RESCUE.

Since it is the will of God that I should be shut up in this chalet with my grandfather, I am about to write down daily whatever may happen to us in this prison ; so that if we ' should perish in it, our relations and friends may know how we passed the latter days of our life ; and that, if we are delivered by God’s mercy, this journal may preserv: the remembrance of our dangers and sufferings. It is my grandfather’s wish that I should undertake this work, in order to shorten a little those hours which would otherwise seem tedious, and for which it would be difficult to find employment. 1 shall begin by relating what happened to us yesterday.

We had expected my father at the village for several weeks. St. Denis was passed, and all the flocks had descended from the mountain with their shepherds. My father alone did not return, and we all asked ourselves what could have detained him ? My uncles and my aunts assured us that we need not be uneasy ; that perhaps there still remained some grass to be eaten, which was probably the reason why my father kept the herds some time longer upon the mountain.

My grandfather at length became alarmed at the delay : he said, “ I will go myself and see what detains Francois; I shall not be sorry to pay another visit to the chalet. Who knows if I shall be permitted to do so next year ? Will you come with me ?” added he, looking at me.

I was just going to ask his leave to accompany him, for we were seldom apart from one another.

We were soon ready to start. We ascended slowly, sometimes threading the narrow passes, at others going along the side of deep precipices. At about a quarter of a league from the chalet, I had the curiosity to approach a steep declivity, and my grandfather, who had already told me that this made him uneasy, approached rapidly to take me by the hand ; a stone which slipped under his foot caused a sprain, which gave him acute pain ; but after some minutes he was able to walk, and we hoped that it would go off. By the help of his holly staff, and leaning upon my shoulder, he dragged himself hither.

My father was much surprised to see us. He was busy preparing for his departure; so that if we had remained quiet at the village for one day longer he would ha*e arrived himself to put an end to our trouble.

“You, father!” said he, advancing to iupport him ; “ did you think that we had met with an accident ?”

“Yes; we came to see what had detained you, when all our neighbors were returned.”

“ Some of our cows were ill ; but they are now recovered. I shall send Pierre this evening with the remainder of the cheeses, and I intend to go down to-morrow with the herds.”

“Are you very tired, Louis?” said my grandfather to me.

The tone in which he put this question showed me that he had some secret design, and I answered not very clearly.

“ I was thinking,” added my grandfather, that it would be most prudent to send the boy with Pierre ; the wind has changed within this half hour, and we shall, perhaps, have had weather to-night.”

My father expressed the same fear, ana recommended me to follow this advice.

“ If you wish it,” said my grandfather, “ I will go down with you ; a short rest is all I require.”

“ I had rather wait for you,” said 1 to my father, embracing him. “A whole night’s rest is needful for grandpapa, who has hurt his foot through my disobedience.”

UNDER TI1E SNOW.

f then related what had happened a short distance from the chalet ; and it was agreed that we should all go down the next day, which was yesterday.

There was a pot upon the fire, which ray father observed that I regarded with some degree of impatience. He served us from it with a soup made of corn-meal cooked with milk, in a tureen, which we all ate, like soldiers, out of the same bowl ; after which I went to bed. I fell asleep without paying much attention to the conversation of my grandfather and my father, who talked in a low voice for a long time after supper.

The next day, I was much surprised to perceive that the mountain wa? quite white. The snow was still falling in great abundance, and driven by a strong wind. This would rather have amused me if I had not observed the uneasiness which it caused my relations. I began to be uneasy myself when I saw my grandfather attempt to walk a few steps, and drag himself along with great difficulty, by leaning on the furuiture and against the walls. The accident 2 of the preceding day had caused his foot to swell, and he was in great pain.

“ Go, go,” said he ; “ take away this child oefore the snow gets deeper. You see that it is impossible for me to follow you.”

“ And do you suppose, father, that I can leave you here ?”

“ Place your son and the herds in safety first, and then you may think about me. You can return with a litter to take me away.”

“ Let me carry you on my shoulders, father, and let us set out without delay, I beg of you.”

“ My son, how are you to guide the flock and take care of this hoy when so heavily laden ?”

We thus passed a great part of the day without deciding upon anything. We were in hopes that some one would come from home to assist us. I said at length that I was big enough to do without a guide, and to help my father drive the herds. These representations were useless ; my grandfather persisted in his resolution. He would not expose us to danger by encumbering us with his person.

UNDER THE SNOW.

My father pressed him eagerly and almost angrily. I wept. At length the dispute ceased, and I may say that it was chiefly by my interposition.

I said to my father, “ Leave me also in the chalet. You will arrive the sooner at home, and you will return with assistance to take us away ; grandfather will require some one to wait upon him and keep him company ; and it will be an opportunity for me to testify my gratitude for all his kindness. We will take care of one another, and God will take care of us both.”

“ The boy is right,” said my grandfathei , u the snow is already so deep, and the wind so violent, that I foresee more danger in his going with you than in his remaining with me. Here, Frangois, take this staff; it is very strong and armed with an iron point ; it will help you to descend, as it assisted me in coming up. Bring the cows out of the stable ; leave us the goat, and the provisions which remain. I am more uneasy about you than ourselves.”

For a moment my father hung his head : looking up suddenly lie caught me in his arms, and I felt his tears upon my checks. “ I will not reproach you, my dear Louis, hut you see the consequences of your disobedience : promise me not to he guilty of the same again. God has ordained what we see ; and I must confess that neither your grandfather nor I foresaw the great, embarrassment in which we are placed. If we had supposed last night that our situation would have been so sad to-day, we would have profited by the assistance of Pierre to take away my grandfather.”

When I saw my father ready to set out, I presented him with a pretty bottle covered with straw, in which there remained a small quantity of wine, with which I had provided myself the day before.

“ Take this,” said I to him ; “ you will want it more than we shall to-day. You know that my poor mother gave me this bottle the first time that I came to pay you a visit in the mountain ; I am glad that it is of use at a time of so much importance both for you and for us.”

“ Marie !” cried my father with emotion, •* she is at rest !”

UNDER TIIE SNOW.

And he pressed me again in his arms in memory of one who was no longer able to caress me.

We brought out the herds, which seemed much astonished at finding the earth covered with snow. Some of the cows got away, and ran round the chalet. At length they were set forward on the way ; and in a few moments my father disappeared in the thick clouds of snow with the flock.

Though they were no longer visible, my grandfather seemed still to follow them with his eyes. He leaned upon the window without speaking, but his lips seemed to move, his hands were clasped, and his eyes lifted up to heaven. His attitude recalled me to a sense of my duty ; I joined in his sentiments, and recommended my father to God. We had remained some time in this manner, when the wind began to blow with greater violence ; thick clouds enveloped us, and the night fell almost suddenly However, our wooden clock had scarcely struck three

“Great God, have mercy on him !” said my grandfather ; “ but he must have passed the forest some time, and he is not exposed to this whirlwind. He will he sadly uneasy on our account.

Our minds had been so occupied all day, that we had never thought of taking any food, and I was very hungry. At this moment I called my grandfather’s attention to the bleatings of the goat.

“ Poor Blanchette !” said he ; “ her milk is troublesome, and she is calling us. Light the lamp ; we will go and milk her, and then have our supper.”

“ And our breakfast, too, grandpapa !”

This made him smile, and I could perceive, by the light of the lamp, that he became more tranquil, which gave me a little courage. However, the wind roared violently. It rushed among the shingles, which shook with its force, so that we had some fear that the roof of the chalet would he carried away. I lifted up my head several times.

“ Fear nothing !” said my grandfather ; t: this house has sustained many similar assaults. The shingles are loaded with large stones ; and the roof being nearty flat gives very little hold to tho wind.”

He then made me a sign to go before him, and we entered the stable.

When the goat saw us, she redoubled her bleat ings. She seemed ready to break her halter by the efforts she made to get to us. How greedily she ate the handful of salt that I gave her ! Her tongue licked my hand over and over again, that she might Dot lose a grain. She gave us a good pailful of milk. I was in great want of it. My grandfather said to me when we returned to the kitchen, “ We must he very careful not to forget Blanchette again ; we must milk her punctually morning and evening ; our life depends on hers.”

“ Do you think then,” I replied, “ that we shall remain here a long time ?”

“ Perhaps so ; hut there is no knowing. We must always hope the best, and take precautions as if the worst were sure to happen.”

After supper, I went and filled our nurse’s jrib, and gave her fresh litter. I caressed aer, I must confess, more lovingly than

TIIREE MONTIIS usual, she seemed also more glad to see me. Goats are always fond of company, and she is now, poor thing, alone in the stable. When she saw me return to the kitchen, she began to bleat in the most plaintive manner.

We remained some minutes longer by tho fireside; but we were far from being as well off here as in our house on the plain. The fire-place is as large as an ordinary room ; it goes narrowing upward, but the opening on the roof is so wide that the snow which entered it, driven by the wind, was very troublesome to us. It made a disagreeable noise, as it melted in the fire, and we were continually obliged to shake off the flakes with which our clothes were covered.

“ You see, my boy,” said my grandfather, “ we shall get no warmth this evening, except in our bed. Let us go and take refuge there; the snow will not reach us in that shelter ; to-morrow we will try and secure ourselves from it in the chimney-corner. Let us pray to God, and seek his protection through our Lord and Saviour ; he is present everywhere, on the mountain as well

UNDER THE SNOW.

as in rhe plain. Were the sncw which covers us a hundred times deeper than it is, we should not he concealed from his sight*, he sees our lifted hands, he hears our feeble sighs. Yea, Lord, thou art with us ; we will rest without fear under the shadow of thy wings.”

1 was much affected, and never prayed with greater confidence than I did last night.

This morning, when I awoke, I found myself in complete darkness, and at first supposed that my sleep had quitted me at an earlier hour than usual. However, I heard my grandfather feeling his way about, and I rubbed my eyes, hut did not see a hit better.

“ Grandfather,” said I, “ you are up before daylight.”

“ My dear hoy,” he answered, “ if we were to wait for the light of day, we should remain long enough in bed. I fear the snow is above the window.”

At this I uttered a cry of horror, and leaped out of bed. I soon lighted our lamp, and we were then able to perceive that my grandfather’s conjecture was well founded.

“ Bu t the window is low,” he add(*l ; “ besides, it may be that the snow has been heaped up in this part ; perhaps we should not see it above two feet deep at some paces from the wall.”

“ Then they will come to rescue us.”

“ I hope so ;” however, next to God, let ns depend in the first place on ourselves. Suppose it were his will to keep us shut up here for some time, let us see what resources we have; and when we have ascertained them, we will regulate the use we should make of them.”

“ There is no doubt that the day is come ; and the cuckoo clock points to seven ; it is fortunate that I did not forget to wind it up last night ; this is a precaution we must be careful to observe. It is always pleasant to know how the time goes ; and we must al ways be punctual with Blanchette.”

Thus we began the day, which seemed sad and wearisome. I can no longer hold my pen ; grandfather thinks I had bettei put off the remainder of my journal till to-morrow.

UNDER THE SNOW.

If this continues I shall scarcely he able to write each evening- the history of the day. When I was at school, I was often praised for the facility with which I executed the little compositions given as exercises to the higher classes; hut I am far from being able to express, especially in writing, all I think and feel. I will, however, do my best. If these pages should ever he read by strangers, they must not forget that they were found in a chalet, and that they are the work of a school-boy.

Yesterday morning, when we discovered that we were closer prisoners than on the former day, we were very sad ; however we did not forget our breakfast or the goat. While my grandfather was milking her, I watched him closely and with great attention.

“ You do well,” said he ; “ you must learn to supply my place. You can see that 1 have some difficulty in stooping to this work. Come and try if you can milk her yourself.”

After a short trial I succeeded in squeezing out a few drops of milk, but I believe I hurt our good nurse, for she started back and nearly overturned the milk-pail ; I have, since that, both yesterday evening and this morning, made two other trials, and have succeeded better.

After breakfast we examined what the chalet contained that might be useful to us. I will give an account of it another day, for fear I should be obliged to stop as I did yesterday.

When we had ascertained what we possessed in goods and utensils we were anxious to know the state of the weather. I placed myself under the chimney, and looked through the only aperture which remained free in the chalet. After some moments the sun shone out suddenly rpon the snow, which now rose to a considerable height above the opening. I remarked this circumstance to my grandfather. We could easily distinguish the thickness of the layer of snow, because the opening has no chimneypot above the roof. It is a mere hole like that of a hayloft.

“ If we had a ladder,” said my grand-

UNDER TIIE SNOW.

father, “ you could get up and unfasten a trap that your father has lately placed there, as he told me, to defend himself from the cold and rain till the chimney is repaired, which was in a bad condition when it was blown down.”

“ If the chimney were narrower,” I replied, “ I should not want a ladder, I could climb up like a chimney-sweeper.”

We remained some moments in thought , suddenly my grandfather recollected that he had seen in the cow-house a long pole of fir, and reminded me of it. I clapped my hands with joy.

“ That is all we want,” I cried ; “ I have climbed many trees whose stem was no bigger. The pole has the bark on it still, which will make it the easier to climb.”

But we had to introduce it into the flue, and that occasioned some difficulty. Fortunately, however, the entrance to it was wide and very high, and we succeeded in our under taking, being assisted by the flexibility of the wood.

I then set to work, having tied a string round my waist so as to hoist up a shovel when I was mounted. I succeeded by using my feet and hands, and leaning against the wall in getting upon the roof. I began by making room for myself by shoveling aw ay the snow, and I then found it to be about three feet deep ; round the chalet it seemed to be much more. The wind, indeed, had heaped it up, but nevertheless an enormous quantity of snow had fallen in a very short time.

All the space that can be seen round the chalet is nothing but a white carpet ; the forest of pines which surrounds it toward the valley, and which bounds the prospect, is white like the rest, except the trunks of the trees which seem quite black. Several of these trees have been broken by the weight of the snow ; I saw large branches and even stems broken into splinters.

At this moment a cold icy wind blew from the north, the dark clouds which it drove before it opened at intervals and let the sunshine pass through them, and this dazzling light flitted over the snow with the swiftness of an arrow.

I was quite benumbed with the cold when

UNDER THE SNOW.

I wished to explain to grandfather what I saw. He perceived that my teeth chattered : he told me then to make haste and to clear the trap by shoveling away as much snow as 1 could round the chimney. This labor took up much time, and gave me a great deal of trouble, but at the same time it warmed me. After having followed my grandfather’s directions in everything, I replaced the cord in a pulley, so that the trap might be opened by pulling it down, and shut again by its own weight when the cord was loosened ; this cord passed out of the flue and through the floor by means of holes made on purpose. After making two or three trials to assure ourselves of the complete success of the experiment, I descended much more easily than I had climbed up.

My clothes were quite wet, and I had no others. We lighted a bright fire with branches and cones of fir ; then lowering the trap, and leaving only space enough for the smoke to escape, we passed a great part of the day in the chimney-corner without any other light than the fire, for our pro vision of oil was very small, and it seems that we shall not very soon leave our prison. We only lighted the lamp when it was time tc milk the goat.

Tt was a new and sad affair to linger out the day in this manner. I believe, however, that the hours would not have seemed so long had it not been for our prolonged hope of deliverance. I was always thinking that some one would come to our aid ; I got up again upon the roof to see if there was anybody coming, and never ceased questioning grandfather. He said that he hoped my father had got home in safety, but that perhaps the roads were rendered impassable, or the passes stopped up by the snow.