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Updated: May 8, 2025
Passing the village of Sigony, Erwald pointed to the remains of an old convent far up the mountain, whose inmates were wont to welcome the traveller, when these valleys, destitute of good roads and inns, were explored with difficulty and with danger. From this place the mountains closed upon us; rocks began to overhang the road, and the Arve was rather heard than seen.
"It would not be right to say to you that I knew the way, if I did not." The boy's face was attractive, his voice gentle, and his blue eyes full of tenderness. His look and his answer delighted me. "No, it would not be right, Erwald; and because you love the right and feel sure that you can serve us, I will take you in your father's place." "I am glad, very glad; and now I must see my mother.
With all her simplicity she had the true Wisdom: and her good motherly face went with me long after I left Erwald in Chamouni. A few miles from Geneva, we entered Savoy. Here the scenery of the Alps began to open before us.
We were to leave Geneva the next morning. Before night our guide came: he was ill, would we take his son? The proposition did not please us; it was a dangerous journey, and many had been lost in the mountain passes. "Erwald knows as much of the passes as I do," said the father, "and he is anxious to go; his sister lives at Maglan, and she is down with the fever." I saw how it was.
Vesta is sick and she will be glad to see any one from home." Erwald's face was glowing; I turned to the father. "Erwald is a good child," he said. "At first we felt vexed with him and Vesta for leaving the church, and not a few times did we punish them. But they were so good and patient that it troubled us; and now their mother is a Protestant, and I never go to mass."
The sides of the mountains were occasionally bare and rugged, but for the most part they were clothed with forests of fir; while above, pointed summits and fantastic crags everywhere met the eye, and filled the beholder with admiration and awe. A few miles up the valley, Erwald called our attention to the entrance of the cavern of Balme. It is a natural gallery in the rock and well worth a visit.
It was explained, the serene calm of the earnest blue eyes: Erwald was a Christian. Early in the morning our guide made his appearance. His countenance sweet and pleasing as it was the night previous. He was accompanied by a little woman in a black gown and bodice, with a high cap and the whitest of kerchiefs a mild sweet-faced woman, whom we knew at once as his mother.
There were plenty of guides; but none of them with the sweet calm look of the boy face before me. "You will think of us sometimes," he said as I held his hand at parting, "and when you pray to our heavenly Father, ask Him to look upon us in mercy." "I will ask Him, Erwald; and I shall always remember the journey from Geneva to Chamouni as the most varied and interesting of my life."
Leaving Erwald, I walked back to the inn. Though far away from home, and surrounded by strange scenery and strange people, it was delightful to find the same faith here as in my own home, the same heaven inspired confidence in the Redeemer. The next morning the sick woman was more comfortable. Erwald did not say it, but I knew that he wanted to stay with her.
They usually lie in a direction north and south, and thus deeply imbedded in the clefts of the valley the sun rarely visits them. From Savoy our numbers were greatly increased, and as the daylight vanished we quickened our pace. Le Prieuré was before us. This was the place where I had promised to part with Erwald.
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