The mountain is the boast of the villagers as if it were a
work of theirs and one is not so sure, however high one may esteem the
plain-spokenness and reputation for truth-telling of the natives,
whether they do not fib, now and then, to the honor and glory of their
mountain. Besides being the wonder of the valley, the mountain affords
actual profit; for whenever a company of tourists arrives to ascend the
mountain the natives serve as guides; and to have been a guide, to have
experienced this or that, to know this or that spot, is a distinction
every one likes to gain for himself. The mountain often is the object of
their conversation at the inn, when they sit together and tell of their
feats and wonderful experiences; nor do they omit to relate what this or
that traveler had said and what reward they had received from him for
their labor. Furthermore, the snowy sides of the mountain feed a lake
among its heavily forested recesses, from which a merry brook runs
through the valley, drives the saw-mill and the flour-mill, cleanses the
village and waters the cattle. The forests of the mountain furnish
timber and form a bulwark against the avalanches.
The annual history of the mountain is as follows: In winter, the two
pinnacles of its summit, which they call horns, are snow-white and, when
visible on bright days, tower up into the blackish blue of the sky in
dazzling splendor, and all its shoulders are white, too, and all slopes.
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