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embodied it in a small volume just published. He first became known, we believe, as a writer by his song of “Sherman's March to the Sea,” which the General has inserted in the second volume of his "Memoirs.” It was written while a prisoner in Columbia, South Carolina, where, and in Libby Prison, he was confined some sixteen months. It shows how trifling a circumstance, comparatively, sometimes changes the current of a man's life. His song having been brought, incidentally, to General Sherman's notice, he at once sent for and attached him to his staff, he having then just escaped from the Columbia prison, where "there was an excellent glee club among the prisoners, who used to sing it well, with an audience often of rebel ladies.” It consists of five stanzas and a chorus, commencing:

Our camp-fires shone bright on the mountain

That frowned on the river below,
As we stood by our guns in the morning,

And eagerly watched for the foe;
When a rider came out of the darkness

That hung over mountain and tree,
And shouted, “Boys, up and be ready!

For Sherman will march to the sea!”

The war over, he was in a favorable position for preferment, with influential friends to present his claims, and very soon he received the important appointment he now holds. Well, after dinner, at a seasonable hour, he returned to town with us and kindly assisted in our being established at the Pension Neptun, a delightful boarding house on the margin of the city and lake. Here we had little to do except to rest. Zurich is eligibly situated at the foot of the lake, extending for some distance along either side both of the lake and of the river

Limmet, its northern outlet. Many of the streets are wide; in the elevated parts there are fine promenades, presenting charming views of the lake and snow-clad mountains beyond, and there are numerous elegant residences, as well as large manufactories, public buildings, and churches. The University and Polytechnic Buildings are very prominent, as are also the Town Library and the great Cathedral. It was in this Cathedral, built in the eleventh or twelfth century, that Zuinglius began the Reformation. It is very plain and nearly destitute of ornaments in the interior. The Church of St. Peter, where Lavater used to hold forth, is a very common looking structure. This learned philosopher and divine, it may be remembered, died from a shot fired by a French soldier in the battle of Zurich, 1779.

In the old Arsenal many interesting relics are exhibited, among them what purport to be the battle-axe, sword, casque, and coat-of-mail of Zuinglius, and William Tell's bow which he used in shooting the apple from his son's head. The greatest curiosities we saw here are in the Museum, being relics of the inhabitants who lived a way back in the age of barbarism, and, as a means of protection against their enemies, built their dwellings on piles in the lake. These relics have from time to time been found in the lake, and have been carefully preserved. Among them are rude earthen cooking utensils, hammers, arrows, and hatchets of stone, awkward looking fish-hooks, finger rings, and other articles.

The street sights are odd. Here are dogs harnessed into carts, pulling like good fellows, with their masters or mistresses, who assist in drawing heavy loads;

women carrying upon their heads large tubs filled with wine and beer bottles. The dress of the common people is different from any we have seen elsewhere-every Canton in Switzerland has its peculiar costume, differing one from the other; and here is a truck so long that it requires a man with a rudder in the rear end to guide it through the streets. Another noticeable thing is the absence of soldiers, with the sight of whom we had become so familiar, particularly in Germany and Austria.

We have spent a part of two days in a trip to Ragatz, three hours by rail from Zurich, where we were most happy to meet an esteemed acquaintance and friend, Rudolph Schleiden, LL. D., formerly for many years the minister from Bremen to the United States. Indeed, we went there purposely to see him, as, in response to a dispatch from us, he telegraphed: “I am here, and most happy to learn that I may expect you.” He stood ready at the door of the Quellenhoff to receive us, as we alighted from our carriage. Of course, we talked over old affairs, particularly in reference to the Bremen Postal Convention of 1853, with which he and the writer had much to do. Both were advocates of low postage, and immediately agreed on a project, which was confirmed by the proper authorities, reducing the letter rate between the United States and Bremen from twenty to ten cents-twenty cents being then the lowest rate from the United States to any part of Europe, and this applied only to the city of Bre

The next lowest rates were twenty-four cents to Great Britain and thirty cents to Germany. Now five cents takes a letter to any part of Europe. For several years after his departure from the United States, Dr. Schleiden served as a member of the Prussian Parliament. His residence is at Freibourg, Baden.


Dinner over, Dr. Schleiden called a carriage and we rode two miles or more into the gorge of Tamina, an opening in the mountain where the walls, two hundred and fifty feet in height, come so near together at the top that in some places one may step across from one side to the other. For much of the way there is space only for the carriage road at the side and above the rapid stream which is one of the principal tributaries of the Rhine. At the end of the carriage-way is an old monastery, now used for a hospital and bathing house. From here we walked about three hundred yards further up the gorge to a hot spring, which we reached by turning into a dark tunnel, dug through the solid rock, at right angles from the stream, a distance of five or six rods. We drank of the water, which is as hot as one usually likes to take his tea. We did not detect any taste of sulphur or other mineral; therefore, we conclude that if the water is heated from the regions of his Satanic majesty, some means have been devised to avoid the smell of brimstone. This water is carried in wooden pipes, securely encased in masonry, to one or more of the hotels in the village, where it is used for bathing-hundreds of invalids resorting thither every year to try its healing qualities. It reaches the baths, two or three miles distant, with only two degrees less of heat than it possesses when it comes out of the mountain.

The scenery around Ragatz and for much of the way between there and Zurich is grand beyond description. The road takes us along the full length of the narrow Lake of Wallenstadt twelve miles, and between high rugged mountains. The valley through which we passed is loaded with its grain, corn, and fruits of various kinds; and the people appeared to be in the enjoyment of almost perfect happiness, so far removed are they from the busy, bustling world.


antly situated in Zurich that we would gladly have tarried there longer; but we must get over the mountains to Chamouni before cold weather, and there is little time to spare.

A ride of one hour and a half by railroad brought us to Lucerne, where we find ourselves at another excellent boarding house, located, with reference to the lake, similarly to our house in Zurich. We passed through Zug and one or two other villages, and the scenery all the way is very beautiful. Lucerne is situated at the northeastern end of the lake of that name, and is separated by the river Reuss, which is spanned by three bridges, two of which are curiosities in their way. They are covered, and on the ceiling of one of them "are numerous pictures representing episodes in the lives of St. Leger and St. Maurice, patron saints of the city.” The other “is ornamented with thirty-six pictures representing the Dance of Death.” By the side of the latter, in the middle of the river, there is an ancient and picturesque tower, in which the archives of the city are kept. The old wall of the city on the land side, surmounted by numerous watch-towers, still stands, extending around from

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