THE TRIUMPH 0¥ LIFE 



a great glacier presses into the valley. Along 

 its sides lie rude rocks, rooted up, scarred and 

 polished by the glacier itself which once on a 

 yet colder day caught them with its ice claws. 

 Now they are free and the warm spring sun lies 

 on them. Into all the flat places, between the 

 rough blocks, the meadow has crept, the plant 

 carpet has left no place unconquered. In the 

 kiss of the sun, a many colored flower surface 

 has sprouted up out of the ground scarcely yet 

 free from the snow. Shaggy silver white and 

 gold yellow mountain anemones, shining blue 

 gentian and blood red alpine roses alternate 

 with one another in a thick cushion. Like the 

 color pattern of a heavy Persian carpet it covers 

 the whole declivity toward the valley. Over this 

 beautiful Alpine garden hover shimmering col- 

 ored butterflies and in advance of all a splendid 

 Apollo which carries the red of the Alpine rose 

 in the form of great eye like spots upon a 

 ground of rough frost like asbestos white. But 

 now let this actual picture be touched by the 

 wand of a legendary fairy. The butterflies 

 would descend to the grassy sod. They would 

 grow fast there and become wonderfully beauti- 

 ful flowers and only the flower leaves would 

 wave tremblingly up and down like the former 

 wings. Alpine roses and gentians would turn 

 up side down, loosen themselves from their stems 

 and rise in a breath of air, the corolla down- 



66 



