Dickens, Charles – The Uncommercial Traveller

and they all three did it together. Not only that – as I live to

tell the tale! – but just as it was falling quite dark, the three

came back, bringing with them a huge bearded Sapper, whom they

moved, by recital of the original wrong, to go through the same

performance, with the same complete absence of all possible

knowledge of it on the part of Straudenheim. And then they all

went away, arm in arm, singing.

I went away too, in the German chariot at sunrise, and rattled on,

day after day, like one in a sweet dream; with so many clear little

bells on the harness of the horses, that the nursery rhyme about

Banbury Cross and the venerable lady who rode in state there, was

always in my ears. And now I came to the land of wooden houses,

innocent cakes, thin butter soup, and spotless little inn bedrooms

with a family likeness to Dairies. And now the Swiss marksmen were

for ever rifle-shooting at marks across gorges, so exceedingly near

my ear, that I felt like a new Gesler in a Canton of Tells, and

went in highly-deserved danger of my tyrannical life. The prizes

at these shootings, were watches, smart handkerchiefs, hats,

spoons, and (above all) tea-trays; and at these contests I came

upon a more than usually accomplished and amiable countryman of my

own, who had shot himself deaf in whole years of competition, and

had won so many tea-trays that he went about the country with his

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Dickens, Charles – The Uncommercial Traveller

carriage full of them, like a glorified Cheap-Jack.

In the mountain-country into which I had now travelled, a yoke of

oxen were sometimes hooked on before the post-horses, and I went

lumbering up, up, up, through mist and rain, with the roar of

falling water for change of music. Of a sudden, mist and rain

would clear away, and I would come down into picturesque little

towns with gleaming spires and odd towers; and would stroll afoot

into market-places in steep winding streets, where a hundred women

in bodices, sold eggs and honey, butter and fruit, and suckled

their children as they sat by their clean baskets, and had such

enormous goitres (or glandular swellings in the throat) that it

became a science to know where the nurse ended and the child began.

About this time, I deserted my German chariot for the back of a

mule (in colour and consistency so very like a dusty old hair trunk

I once had at school, that I half expected to see my initials in

brass-headed nails on his backbone), and went up a thousand rugged

ways, and looked down at a thousand woods of fir and pine, and

would on the whole have preferred my mule’s keeping a little nearer

to the inside, and not usually travelling with a hoof or two over

the precipice – though much consoled by explanation that this was

to be attributed to his great sagacity, by reason of his carrying

broad loads of wood at other times, and not being clear but that I

myself belonged to that station of life, and required as much room

as they. He brought me safely, in his own wise way, among the

passes of the Alps, and here I enjoyed a dozen climates a day;

being now (like Don Quixote on the back of the wooden horse) in the

region of wind, now in the region of fire, now in the region of

unmelting ice and snow. Here, I passed over trembling domes of

ice, beneath which the cataract was roaring; and here was received

under arches of icicles, of unspeakable beauty; and here the sweet

air was so bracing and so light, that at halting-times I rolled in

the snow when I saw my mule do it, thinking that he must know best.

At this part of the journey we would come, at mid-day, into half an

hour’s thaw: when the rough mountain inn would be found on an

island of deep mud in a sea of snow, while the baiting strings of

mules, and the carts full of casks and bales, which had been in an

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