Andersen's Fairy Tales

It was a good thing that the power of the Galoshes worked asinstantaneously as lightning in a powder-magazine would do, otherwise thepoor man with his overstrained wishes would have travelled about the worldtoo much for himself as well as for us. In short, he was travelling. He was inthe middle of Switzerland, but packed up with eight other passengers in theinside of an eternally-creaking diligence; his head ached till it almost split,his weary neck could hardly bear the heavy load,...
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It was a good thing that the power of the Galoshes worked asinstantaneously as lightning in a powder-magazine would do, otherwise thepoor man with his overstrained wishes would have travelled about the worldtoo much for himself as well as for us. In short, he was travelling. He was inthe middle of Switzerland, but packed up with eight other passengers in theinside of an eternally-creaking diligence; his head ached till it almost split,his weary neck could hardly bear the heavy load, and his feet, pinched byhis torturing boots, were terribly swollen. He was in an intermediate statebetween sleeping and waking; at variance with himself, with his company,with the country, and with the government. In his right pocket he had hisletter of credit, in the left, his passport, and in a small leathern purse somedouble louis d'or, carefully sewn up in the bosom of his waistcoat. Everydream proclaimed that one or the other of these valuables was lost;wherefore he started up as in a fever; and the first movement which his handmade, described a magic triangle from the right pocket to the left, and thenup towards the bosom, to feel if he had them all safe or not. From the roofinside the carriage, umbrellas, walking-sticks, hats, and sundry other articleswere depending, and hindered the view, which was particularly imposing.He now endeavored as well as he was able to dispel his gloom, which wascaused by outward chance circumstances merely, and on the bosom ofnature imbibe the milk of purest human enjoyment.Grand, solemn, and dark was the whole landscape around. The giganticpine-forests, on the pointed crags, seemed almost like little tufts of heather,colored by the surrounding clouds. It began to snow, a cold wind blew androared as though it were seeking a bride."Augh!" sighed he, "were we only on the other side the Alps, then we should have summer, and I could get my letters of credit cashed. Theanxiety I feel about them prevents me enjoying Switzerland. Were I but onthe other side!"And so saying he was on the other side in Italy, between Florence andRome. Lake Thracymene, illumined by the evening sun, lay like flaminggold between the dark-blue mountain-ridges; here, where Hannibal defeatedFlaminius, the rivers now held each other in their green embraces; lovely,half-naked children tended a herd of black swine, beneath a group offragrant laurel-trees, hard by the road-side. Could we render this inimitablepicture properly, then would everybody exclaim, "Beautiful, unparalleledItaly!" But neither the young Divine said so, nor anyone of his grumblingcompanions in the coach of the vetturino.