28 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[January, 
Tin; Doctor’s Correspondence. 
This letter comes from Interlaken, in Switzer¬ 
land. If you look in a large Gazetteer it will tell 
you that this is called Inter-laken, because it is be¬ 
tween two lakes, the lakes being Thun and Brienz. 
If it tells you, moreover, that it is a town of hotels 
and a great summer resort for travellers, and an 
excellent starting point for excursions, it will have 
said about all there is to say about the place itself. 
As I was sitting this evening upon the balcony in 
front of my hotel window, to enjoy the view it 
afforded, I was reminded of our boys and girls, and 
correspondent wishes to know how far north he 
must go to find the average climate three degrees 
colder. The question seems to me one that cannot 
be answered. You will recollect that I was sitting 
on the balcony upon which the window of my hotel 
opened. Upon the balcony were two fine large 
orange trees in tubs, and these trees had upon 
them orange flowers, green fruit, and ripe oranges, 
telling as plainly as trees could speak of a warm 
country. As I sat near to these trees, and looked 
outward and upward, there in front of me was the 
Jungfrau, “ The Maiden,” one of the most noted of 
all the Swiss alpine peaks, celebrated for the grand- 
glow, of which I had read but never expected to see. 
It was as short-lived as it was beautiful, for in a few 
minutes it disappeared, and left the peak looking 
colder than ever against the dark sky. As the 
glow faded, it put a crowning glory upon one of 
the marked days of my life, for it is a marked day 
when one first looks upon perpetual snow. * * 
The engraving, from a photograph, gives an idea, 
as far as a picture can, of the view from my window 
at Interlaken. The near hills are mostly wooded, 
and, seen between them, Jungfrau appears in bril¬ 
liant white. These snow peaks do not gppear like 
a great snow bank, but there are lights and shades, 
especially of a question that had been asked by one 
of them—whether by a boy or a girl I forget, 
hut it was like this : “ How many feet in altitude 
are equal to one degree of latitude?” You may 
not understand it as put thus, so let me explain. 
Your school geographies show you that if 
you should start and travel directly north¬ 
ward, you would in time come to a region 
where there were no trees; still further north, 
there would be no plants of any kind, nothing 
but ice and snow, in which no plants can live. In 
some countries there are very high mountains, and 
were you to climb one of these mountains you 
would find, as you went up, that the trees became 
more and more dwarfed, and at last disappeared al¬ 
together; low herbs would be found for awhile, but, 
last, if you went high enough, all vegetation would 
cease, and the limit of perpetual snow and ice be 
reached. Thus, whether we go upwards upon high 
xiountains, or go towards the north pole, we come 
to a point where eternal winter reigns and no plants 
can grow. It has been found that the average tem¬ 
perature is one degree less for every 343 feet of ele¬ 
vation, or it is near enough to say that the climate 
is three degrees colder for every 1,000 feet 
that we ascend a mountain. I understand that my 
eur of its outline and the purity of its everlasting 
snows. As I looked, how strange it seemed to smell 
the perfume of the orange flowers, to have at hand 
a tree belonging to warm southern countries, and 
there, but a few miles away, was a locality where 
ice and snow prevented the growth of even the 
hardiest plants, where no life, whether of animal or 
vegetable, could exist, where all was everlasting 
cold and stillness. In the orange trees and the 
snow peak I only saw the extremes, but in imagi¬ 
nation I ascended the mountain, a much quicker and 
less fatiguing method than the actual climb of over 
13,000 feet, and pictured the gradual changes; saw 
in rapid succession the vanishing of the “timber 
line,” then the peculiar alpine flowers, blooming at 
the edge of the snow, and then the snow itself, end¬ 
ing all growth. There are few scenes more impres¬ 
sive than a view for the first time of an alpine peak 
like the Jungfrau. There are some things that are 
beyond the power of words to describe—they must 
be felt. As I looked from between the orange trees 
at Interlaken, the sun went down, and then the 
great peak seemed grander than ever. Soon its cold 
whiteness grew slightly ruddy, and there spread 
over the whole a rosy tint, as beautiful as that 
sometimes seen on sunset clouds. It was the alpen- 
showing great irregularity of surface, and, as tne 
sun plays upon them, some portions are intensely 
bright, while other parts are in the shadow; this . 
adds much to their beauty and grandeur. No doubt 
some of you will wonder why, as the snows fall, 
year after year, and have been falling for ages, the 
uneven portions do not get filled up, and all appear 
as one great, rounded dome which grows larger 
each year. Upon these peaks, as down below, there 
is constant change, there are violent avalanches, 
and the more quiet movements that bring the snow 
downward until it forms a mer de glace —a sea of 
ice—or glacier. Before I leave this picture, I 
would mention one thing about it. You will notice 
a quite large building upon the side of the nearest 
hill. This building was in full view from my win¬ 
dow, and I supposed that it was another hotel. 
The next day I drove past it, and found, to my sur¬ 
prise, that it was a fine large school-house. _ The 
grounds in front were neatly planted with flowers, 
and I could see through the windows stuffed birds 
and other things which showed that the school had 
a museum. It was a public school; wherever I 
have gone in Switzerland, there are fine large 
school-houses. It is very gratifying to see that the 
Swiss boys and girls are so well provided for. 
