. En route; a descriptive automobile tour through nine countries & over nineteen great passes of Europe . ared almost imbecile,standing stupidly at their sunken doors, gazing atthe car with hardly comprehending eyes. Perhaps it was the misty clouds enveloping theheavens, the fearful stillness in the air, the freezingcold, and the half-light that made the scene soweird and strange. We felt like spirits fromanother world wandering through the Valley ofDeath; the awful loneliness and utter helplessnessof the peoples lives entered into us as we sped overthe dismal marsh. In bright sunny weather th
. En route; a descriptive automobile tour through nine countries & over nineteen great passes of Europe . ared almost imbecile,standing stupidly at their sunken doors, gazing atthe car with hardly comprehending eyes. Perhaps it was the misty clouds enveloping theheavens, the fearful stillness in the air, the freezingcold, and the half-light that made the scene soweird and strange. We felt like spirits fromanother world wandering through the Valley ofDeath; the awful loneliness and utter helplessnessof the peoples lives entered into us as we sped overthe dismal marsh. In bright sunny weather thepass would wear a very different aspect, but to us itwas quite the reverse of sunny or bright ; we passedover it in almost semi-darkness and with the know-ledge that we might be stopped at any moment, tofind the road blocked with stones or snow for thewinter. Or, worst of all, should Mercedes fail, weshould be stranded in this horrible valley far awayfrom help. Mercedes never fails, we reflected, andfelt comforted. A cold wind was blowing, and thethermometer upon the dash quickly fell below IN THE FACE OF THE POLICE At one place a dilapidated notice-board, half ofwhich had long since rotted away, announced, indecayed letters, Motorwiigen verboten. Withthis ominous message ringing in our ears we reachedthe end of the valley. Here the road enters thewell-named Devils Cauldron, a wind-swept circleof bare rock, rising 2000 feet sheer into the the Cauldron are brewed the icy waters of theKlus, which roar and thunder as they pour over theprecipices. Here The vale is girdled with their walls, a howlOf cataracts from their thaw-cloven ravines,Satiates the listening wind, continuous, vast,Awful as silence. At first sight there seems no way out of this cul-de-sac, till, on reaching the centre of the Cauldron,the road doubles back upon itself and commences toclimb, step by step, up the face of the giant and colder blew the wind ; far beneath us welooked
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjecteuropedescriptionand
