A TRAMP ABROAD By Mark Twain

Mr. Harris and I took some guides and porters and ascended

to the Ho^tel des Pyramides, which is perched on the

high moraine which borders the Glacier des Bossons.

The road led sharply uphill, all the way, through grass

and flowers and woods, and was a pleasant walk,

barring the fatigue of the climb.

From the hotel we could view the huge glacier at very

close range. After a rest we followed down a path

which had been made in the steep inner frontage

of the moraine, and stepped upon the glacier itself.

One of the shows of the place was a tunnel-like cavern,

which had been hewn in the glacier. The proprietor

of this tunnel took candles and conducted us into it.

It was three or four feet wide and about six feet high.

Its walls of pure and solid ice emitted a soft and rich

blue light that produced a lovely effect, and suggested

enchanted caves, and that sort of thing. When we had

proceeded some yards and were entering darkness, we turned

about and had a dainty sunlit picture of distant woods

and heights framed in the strong arch of the tunnel and seen

through the tender blue radiance of the tunnel’s atmosphere.

The cavern was nearly a hundred yards long, and when we

reached its inner limit the proprietor stepped into a branch

tunnel with his candles and left us buried in the bowels

of the glacier, and in pitch-darkness. We judged his

purpose was murder and robbery; so we got out our matches

and prepared to sell our lives as dearly as possible

by setting the glacier on fire if the worst came to the

worst–but we soon perceived that this man had changed

his mind; he began to sing, in a deep, melodious voice,

and woke some curious and pleasing echoes. By and by he

came back and pretended that that was what he had gone

behind there for. We believed as much of that as we wanted to.

Thus our lives had been once more in imminent peril,

but by the exercise of the swift sagacity and cool courage

which had saved us so often, we had added another escape

to the long list. The tourist should visit that ice-cavern,

by all means, for it is well worth the trouble; but I would

advise him to go only with a strong and well-armed force.

I do not consider artillery necessary, yet it would not be

unadvisable to take it along, if convenient. The journey,

going and coming, is about three miles and a half, three of

which are on level ground. We made it in less than a day,

but I would counsel the unpracticed–if not pressed

for time–to allow themselves two. Nothing is gained

in the Alps by over-exertion; nothing is gained by crowding

two days’ work into one for the poor sake of being able

to boast of the exploit afterward. It will be found

much better, in the long run, to do the thing in two days,

and then subtract one of them from the narrative.

This saves fatigue, and does not injure the narrative.

All the more thoughtful among the Alpine tourists

do this.

We now called upon the Guide-in-Chief, and asked for a squadron

of guides and porters for the ascent of the Montanvert.

This idiot glared at us, and said:

“You don’t need guides and porters to go to the Montanvert.”

“What do we need, then?”

“Such as YOU?–an ambulance!”

I was so stung by this brutal remark that I took

my custom elsewhere.

Betimes, next morning, we had reached an altitude of five

thousand feet above the level of the sea. Here we camped

and breakfasted. There was a cabin there–the spot is

called the Caillet–and a spring of ice-cold water.

On the door of the cabin was a sign, in French, to the effect

that “One may here see a living chamois for fifty centimes.”

We did not invest; what we wanted was to see a dead one.

A little after noon we ended the ascent and arrived at the

new hotel on the Montanvert, and had a view of six miles,

right up the great glacier, the famous Mer de Glace.