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Page 8
Years passed: there was a great gathering in that grand old capital. A
musical festival was in progress, and all the celebrities the world
over had congregated there. Franz Hoffner was in the zenith of his
glory. At the close of the performance, and while the entire audience
joined in acclamations of praise to the youthful leader, a rich medal
was presented. On one side the profile view of the elector and his
daughter, set round with diamonds; on the other, "Music is only
valuable as it lifts the heart and purifies our fallen nature."
Franz Hoffner lived to be a great musician; but he never ceased to
think of his parents and Nanette. Honors were empty, and applause
vain, only so far as they contributed to the happiness of those he
loved.
The Glaciers Of Savoy
After a few weeks passed in Geneva, we determined to go on to
Chamouni, and for this purpose engaged a guide accustomed for years to
the mountain passes, and on whom we were told that we could rely
implicitly.
This being arranged, we took a last drive around the environs of the
city; the views of the lake and of the mountains in every direction,
were enchanting and sublime. From the head of the lake, a greater
variety of interesting objects met the eye than can be seen perhaps
from any other spot in Europe. At your feet you behold a venerable and
populous city; while a vast and beautiful lake spreads its clear waves
beyond, amid a landscape rich in all the products a cultivated soil
can furnish; while vast and gloomy mountains stretch their giant forms
on high. In clear weather, Mont Blanc appears the venerable monarch of
the Alps. Below this, Sal�ve rises to upwards of three thousand feet,
with the uninterrupted length of the Jura on the left, whose highest
point is over four thousand. Proceeding along the banks of the Arve,
we at length alighted at the entrance of a thicket, through which we
made our way with difficulty, the path being hilly and very slippery,
to a place where we saw at our feet the celebrated junction of the
Arve and the Rhone. The Arve has a thick soapy appearance; the Rhone
is of a fine dark green, and seems for a while to spurn a connection
with its muddy visitor. For two or three miles the Rhone keeps up its
reserve, and the rivers roll side by side, without mingling their
waters. At length they meet and blend: the distinction is lost, the
polluted Arve is absorbed in the haughty and majestic Rhone.
We were to leave Geneva the next morning. Before night our guide came:
he was ill, would we take his son? The proposition did not please us;
it was a dangerous journey, and many had been lost in the mountain
passes.
"Erwald knows as much of the passes as I do," said the father, "and he
is anxious to go; his sister lives at Maglan, and she is down with the
fever."
I saw how it was. Erwald was to go to Maglan to visit his sister; and
if the father could arrange for him to go with us, of course he
himself would be free to make another engagement.
"Do you feel sure that you can guide us safely?" I asked of Erwald.
"Certainly, monsieur; I have been over the way many times. If I was
not quite sure, I would not offer to go."
"Not if you could gain a good many francs by going?"
"It would not be right to say to you that I knew the way, if I did
not."
The boy's face was attractive, his voice gentle, and his blue eyes
full of tenderness. His look and his answer delighted me.
"No, it would not be right, Erwald; and because you love the right and
feel sure that you can serve us, I will take you in your father's
place."
"I am glad, very glad; and now I must see my mother. Vesta is sick and
she will be glad to see any one from home."
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