Genoa Part 11 290

IF a straight line were drawn through Switzerland from Zurich to the foot of Lake Lucerne and over the St. Gotthard Pass to Lake Maggiore, the western section of the Swiss Republic, thus divided, would contain the most renowned and popular of its centres of attraction, including Lake Geneva, Chamou-nix, Zermatt, Interlaken, and the Bernese Ober-land. East of the line, however, there would still remain a province of supreme distinction, called the Grisons, whose giant glaciers form the birthplace of the Rhine and Inn, and whose imposing mountains hold in their embrace the far-famed valley of the Engadine. This valley, sixty miles in length and on an average one and a half miles broad, cuts through the canton like a deep-grooved furrow, turned by God's plowshare when the earth was young. Uplifted to an elevation of about six thousand feet, it feels the warmth of almost cloudless sunshine tempered by an air of peerless purity. Westward, the mighty systems of the St. Gotthard and Splügen tower between it and the setting sun; eastward, the sunrise greets it from the mountains of Tyrol; and while upon its northern border surge the crumpled masses of the Grisons Alps, below its southern rampart lie the plains of Lombardy. Within the last few years a railway has been built to this sublime retreat, and now increasing thousands annually journey thither by a path of steel, which crosses numerous stilt-like viaducts, and burrows through no less than forty tunnels up from the town of Thusis, at the portal of the Via Mala, to fashionable St. Moritz. Far be it from me to question the financial benefit and practical utility of this expensive proof of engineering skill. In general both the traveling public and the landlords will undoubtedly gain by it. But, personally, I was glad last summer to avoid it; and turning with relief from the old, nerve-exhausting task of registering luggage in a tourists' pandæmonium, and the still more annoying rush for seats in over-crowded cars, I chose for an excursion through the Engadine the peace and independence of a private carriage. The freedom thus secured from crowds and fixed adherence to a time-table abundantly repays the increase of expenditure, which certainly is not excessive. Thus for a landau and a pair of horses on a drive through Switzerland or the Tyr5l one usually pays ten dollars a day. But this includes the food and lodging of both team and driver, though not as a rule the "trink-geld" of the latter, which may be fairly reckoned at ten per cent. of the hiring price.

The Baby Inn.

The Baby Inn.

A Village In The Engadine. Zuoz

A Village In The Engadine. Zuoz.

Meeting The Mail Coach.

Meeting The Mail Coach.

A Viaduct On The New Railway.

A Viaduct On The New Railway.

An Engadine Village.

An Engadine Village.

A little more than an hour's railway journey west of Innsbruck lies the Austrian town of Landeck, - a favorite point of departure for both South Tyrol and the Engadine, the boundaries of which frown grimly on each other in a sun-starved gorge not far away. Here, early in July, alighting from the morning train, we found awaiting us our previously ordered carriage, beside which - hat in hand, his features wreathed in smiles - stood honest Franz, with whom we had already driven over many an Alpine pass. In half an hour we had left the town, with its huge, ruined castle bristling on the height, and were beginning the ascent toward mountains on whose snowy summits lay a realm of grandeur and repose. What wonder, therefore, that at every upward turning of the road our spirits rose, so happy were we once more to be driving through that favored portion of our earth, which its inhabitants fondly call "Das schöne Land, Tyrol".