This continues until it gradually becomes
autumn again, the waters grow less, and one day a gray continuous gentle
rain spreads over all the valley. Then, after the mists have dispersed
about the summits, the mountain is seen to have draped itself again in
its soft robe of snow, and all crags, cones, and pinnacles are vested in
white. Thus it goes on, year after year, with but slight divergences,
and thus it will go on so long as nature remains the same, and there is
snow upon the heights and people live in the valleys. But to the natives
these changes seem great, they pay much attention to them and calculate
the progress of the seasons by them.
The ascent of the mountain is made from our valley. One follows a fine
road which leads south to another valley over a so-called "neck." Neck
they call a moderately high mountain-ridge which connects two
mountain-ranges of considerable magnitude and over which one can pass
from one valley to another between the mountains. The neck which
connects our snow-mountain with another great mountain-mass is
altogether covered with pine-forests. At its greatest elevation, where
the road begins gradually to descend into the valley beyond, there
stands a post erected to commemorate a calamity. Once upon a time a
baker carrying bread in a basket slung around his neck was found dead on
that spot. They painted a picture of the dead baker with his basket and
the pine-trees round about, and beneath it an explanation with a request
for prayer from the passer-by, and this picture they fastened to a
wooden post painted red, and erected it at the spot where the accident
occurred.
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