Scenes in Switzerland by American Tract Society


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Page 4

And as the pastor began the service, the melody of his voice broke
away into tenderness as he touched upon the love of God in giving his
Son to be the propitiation for sin: holding up the picture so vividly,
and telling the simple story with a pathos and a power that little
children even could not fail to see and to appreciate. How much better
than studied and elaborate essays, diving into metaphysics and
technicalities so deeply that beauty is lost, and the mind diverted by
the difficulty of following the intricate windings.

First did he impress his hearers with the fact that God loved the
world, and through the fulness of that love the Son came down to
suffer and to die: secondly, that the natural heart is at enmity with
God, not willing that God should rule. Thus a change must be effected;
a reconciliation made. This could only be wrought by sacrifice; and
Christ was offered once for all; his blood cleanseth from all sin. A
plain, simple statement, and it sunk into the hearts of his hearers
with a power sure to tell upon their future lives.

After the blessing, each remained silently upon his knees for a few
moments. Then all was greeting and congratulation; all were friends;
the idea never entered their heads that a stranger could be among them
at that season.

At dinner I was introduced to the landamman and two other members of
the council, and from them gathered brief notes with reference to the
little democracy won, and held intact for so many years. The dessert
was hardly removed before they began to come: first the old men in
black coats and high hats, and women with white, pointed caps and wide
ruffles; then the middle-aged, fathers and mothers, bringing little
children, all with the same conscientious expression on their faces,
the same "Happy Christmas," while the pastor's "God bless you," was a
benediction that carried happiness to the hearts of those who heard
it.

Lastly came the youths; maidens with eyes full of a childlike
innocence, the quick color coming and going as they greeted the pastor
and his friends, and received his blessing in return. Gretchen and her
husband were with us, and Gretchen number two was my especial escort,
leading me through the rooms, and introducing me in her naive manner,
"Mamma's friend, and papa's, and uncle Euler's."

Christmas festivities were kept up during the week; and before that
elapsed, I was won to add a month, and then another, it being quite
impossible to slip away from the kind friends with whom I had so much
in common; the fascination only the more potent as we listened to the
beating winds, and looked out into the slippery paths leading down
into the cantons beneath.

Spring had come when it was "fit to travel," as Gretchen said. The
green of the landscape was brilliant and uniform; the turf sown with
primrose, violet, anemone, veronica, and buttercups. It was time for
me to leave; neither could I be persuaded to stay till the meeting of
the Landsgemeinde. It was sad to leave them, and the little Gretchen
was only pacified by my assurance that, if possible, I would return at
no distant day. My friend Spruner had business at Herisau, and
spending one more evening together, our prayers mingling for the last
time, we parted.

Our way led through the valley of the Sitter, a stream fed by the
Sentis Alps, and spanned by a bridge hundreds of feet above the water.
The same smooth carpet of velvet green was spread everywhere.

"There is no greener land," said Spruner; "the grass is so rich that
the inhabitants cannot even spare enough for vegetable gardens. Our
tables are supplied from the lower vallies."

"In our country we should not dream of making hay in the month of
April," I remarked, seeing several stout men already in the field.

"With suitable care they can mow the same field every six weeks,"
responded my friend. "And it is no doubt this peculiar process that
gives such sweetness and splendor of color, seen nowhere else, not
even between the hedgerows of England."

The day proved to be neither clear nor rainy: a steel blue sky brought
out the broken peaks of Kasten, while the white shoulders of the
Sentis were veiled with a thin, gray suit.

"A month later and we should see the herdsmen," remarked Spruner. "The
leader of the herd marches in front with a large bell suspended from
his neck by a handsome leathern band; the others follow, some with
garlands of flowers and straps of embroidered leather, with milking
pails suspended between the horns."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sun 2nd Mar 2025, 9:32