DOI Heft:
No. 79 (October, 1899)
DOI Artikel:Forbes, Stanhope Alexander: On the slope of a southern hill
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.19783#0049
On the Slope of a Southern Hill
The end of that flood seemed long in coming, We had grown to know all the phases of the
but it came at last, and we found when the sun re- great mountain while we lived under the shadow
appeared that high summer had taken possession of her : her days of purple and gold, when she lay
of the land. The grass was knee-deep in the sleepily basking in the sun ; her sullen days, when
meadows, white with daisies and blue with tiny she drew the rain like a veil about her head; and
bells. The oak woods had put out all their leaves, there was one morning when we awoke to find her
and the lower slopes of the mountains were clothed gleaming white and radiant under a mantle of
in dense green. La Rhune had gathered a great snow.
store of rain into her bosom, and all her streams Before our holiday came to an end we resolved
were pouring down, tumbling in cascades over the to make the conquest of her ; so one fine morning
rocks, and tearing channels through the red earth, we set out, a stout-hearted band of pedestrians,
filling the air with the pleasant sound of gushing with guides and the faithful Marie, a mule for the
water. weaker ones to ride in turns, and all the essentials
for a picnic. At first, we struggled up through a
gash cut deep in the ochre-red earth; the yellow
of furze and broom grew thick on the high banks
and almost met overhead. Then we followed foot-
. paths hardly visible and always growing steeper.
Panting we would reach the summit of one crag,
only to find other peaks high above our heads.
Fringes of the delicate hoop-petticoat narcissus
nodded provokingly at us from inaccessible places ;
when we turned to look down, we saw the stretch
of level blue which is the Bay of Biscay, that grew
ever wider as we climbed—and the white line of
breakers that curves away to Biarritz at the north,
while to the left of us was the wide mouth of the
Bidassoa, with Fontarabie and the Cap du Figuer.
It was a very hot and tired company that, after
hours of climbing, flung itself at last full length on
the little plateau at the summit, and clamoured
for cooling drinks. But with the sweet wind blow-
ing in our faces, straight across from the jagged
crests of the Pic du Midi and
his mates, when we peered
over the edge, and looked
down, down, into the serene
blue depths below, where the
k, rivers showed like skeins of
\% silk, and where two huge birds,
eagles or the lammergeyer of
^HHhk. the Pyrennees, were majesti-
cally circling, we owned that
■M3t2E3s a our climb had earned an
abundant reward.
\ / And when, the contents of
our hampers disposed of, we
all lay supremely content on
the short sun-dried turf, and
the cigarettes were alight, we
called on Marie and her com-
panions for an impromptu en-
tertainment. They gave us
the fandango" from a drawixg by Elizabeth stanhope forbes one with respectful alacrity,
33
■4?
The end of that flood seemed long in coming, We had grown to know all the phases of the
but it came at last, and we found when the sun re- great mountain while we lived under the shadow
appeared that high summer had taken possession of her : her days of purple and gold, when she lay
of the land. The grass was knee-deep in the sleepily basking in the sun ; her sullen days, when
meadows, white with daisies and blue with tiny she drew the rain like a veil about her head; and
bells. The oak woods had put out all their leaves, there was one morning when we awoke to find her
and the lower slopes of the mountains were clothed gleaming white and radiant under a mantle of
in dense green. La Rhune had gathered a great snow.
store of rain into her bosom, and all her streams Before our holiday came to an end we resolved
were pouring down, tumbling in cascades over the to make the conquest of her ; so one fine morning
rocks, and tearing channels through the red earth, we set out, a stout-hearted band of pedestrians,
filling the air with the pleasant sound of gushing with guides and the faithful Marie, a mule for the
water. weaker ones to ride in turns, and all the essentials
for a picnic. At first, we struggled up through a
gash cut deep in the ochre-red earth; the yellow
of furze and broom grew thick on the high banks
and almost met overhead. Then we followed foot-
. paths hardly visible and always growing steeper.
Panting we would reach the summit of one crag,
only to find other peaks high above our heads.
Fringes of the delicate hoop-petticoat narcissus
nodded provokingly at us from inaccessible places ;
when we turned to look down, we saw the stretch
of level blue which is the Bay of Biscay, that grew
ever wider as we climbed—and the white line of
breakers that curves away to Biarritz at the north,
while to the left of us was the wide mouth of the
Bidassoa, with Fontarabie and the Cap du Figuer.
It was a very hot and tired company that, after
hours of climbing, flung itself at last full length on
the little plateau at the summit, and clamoured
for cooling drinks. But with the sweet wind blow-
ing in our faces, straight across from the jagged
crests of the Pic du Midi and
his mates, when we peered
over the edge, and looked
down, down, into the serene
blue depths below, where the
k, rivers showed like skeins of
\% silk, and where two huge birds,
eagles or the lammergeyer of
^HHhk. the Pyrennees, were majesti-
cally circling, we owned that
■M3t2E3s a our climb had earned an
abundant reward.
\ / And when, the contents of
our hampers disposed of, we
all lay supremely content on
the short sun-dried turf, and
the cigarettes were alight, we
called on Marie and her com-
panions for an impromptu en-
tertainment. They gave us
the fandango" from a drawixg by Elizabeth stanhope forbes one with respectful alacrity,
33
■4?