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shore to shore, and from this wall, which is mostly on high ground, a charming view of the city, lake, and mountains is obtained. On the left is Mount Righi and on the right Mount Pilatus. There is a railroad from Vitznau on the lake to the top of the Righi; but we felt safe in the village and concluded not to

go

there. While weighing the matter a poor German girl fell from a point near the summit and was killed. No one saw her fall, but it was supposed that she lost her balance in reaching for flowers. This circumstance may have turned the scale against our going, but we knew we must climb high mountains before reaching the valley of Chamouni, and from these we hope to get extended views, equal, at least, to any from the Righi.

The principal object of attraction here is “Thorwaldsen's Lion,” of colossal size, cut in high relief out of the side of a sandstone ledge. He was a native of Denmark, and at that time (1821) engaged in his profession at Rome, whence he sent the model, and the work was executed by Ahorn, of Constance. The figure of the Lion is twenty-eight feet long and eighteen feet high. He “holds the fleur-de-lis in his paws, which he endeavors to protect with his last breath, his life-blood oozing from a wound made by a spear which still remains in his side.” This monument, as appears by a Latin inscription under the figure, is dedicated to the officers (twenty-six) and soldiers (seven hundred and sixty) of the Swiss Guards who died in Paris in 1792 defending the royal cause. It is in every respect unique. It has for its foundation and support the solid ledge, which rises thirty feet, more or less, perpendicularly, overhung with evergreen vines, and at the base is a pool of spring water within a railing. Near by is what

they call the Glacier Gardens, where immense basins have been worn in the ledge by the action of heavy bowlders moved by the falling waters.

The most attractive shops here are those of wood and ivory carvings, which, as everybody knows, are very wonderful.

They show great ingenuity and industry.

An excursion by steamboat to Fluelen, the southern end of the lake, and back occupied one day full of enjoyment. Lucerne, regarded as the most beauful in Switzerland, is also called the Lake of the Four Cantons; and it extends around between the mountains for many miles, presenting, with its arms - to Kussnacht northerly and southerly to Alpnacht--somewhat the shape of a cross. The boat stops at many landings, and the traveler may, if he choose, rest at any one of them and take a subsequent boat on his return ticket. We landed first at Fluelen, the end of the route, whence carriages run to Altorf, two miles, where there is a rough statue of William Tell, said to be on the spot where he stood when he shot the apple from his son's head, and the exact distance his son stood from him is there marked down. On the eastern shore of the lake, near Fluelen, is a small shrine, built in 1388, called Tell's Chapel. It stands at the point where he sprang ashore from a boat, in which he was being conveyed as a prisoner, and made his escape. It is called “The Mecca of Switzerland,” as on every Sunday after Easter “a procession of boats, richly decorated, proceeds slowly to this chapel, where, after mass is celebrated, a patriotic sermon is preached to the worshiping pilgrims.” A few miles further north, near the opposite bank, is a high perpendicular rock, bearing in gilded letters an in

scription in commemoration of Frederick Schiller as the poet of William Tell. This rock rises abruptly out of the water in shape of a huge trunk of a tree, its sides being perpendicular for many feet, tapering to the form of a sugar loaf. From a distance it has the look of a giant sentinel. Not far from this is a sloping ledge, covered with verdure and chestnut trees, which our guide-book speaks of as the “Rutli of Schiller,” and as the point where, according to tradition, Walter Furst, Werner Stauffacher, and Arnold de Melchthal, on the night of the 7th of November, 1307, accompanied by thirty men from the three cantons of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwald, met for the purpose of taking a solemn oath at the break of day to deliver their country from the tyranny of their Austrian oppressors.

We landed at Brunnen, a small village on the east side of the lake, and walking a mile or more along the Axenstein turnpike, we sought a shady nook in the forest, where we ate with a keen relish a nice lunch, with an abundance of sweet grapes for dessert, which our landlady had kindly provided for us.

This magnificent turnpike has been built, at immense expense, many miles along the rocky margin of the lake, in some places the mountain being tunneled for it, and at others excavated from the lake side, a rough pillar being left here and there to support the overhanging mass. A sea wall, with handsome granite coping, runs along the outer side. The architecture is that of Nature and Art combined, and the effect, especially from the lake, is grand indeed. Leaning upon the skirting wall of this smooth highway, we feast our eyes, too, on scenery most superbly grand and beautiful, as we survey the lake, dotted with charming villas

upon its sloping banks, and “Alps on Alps” in the back ground as far as the eye can reach. In our rear, on the Axenstein Mountain, not easy of access, is a large hotel, which can be seen from the lake. We thought of walking to it, but there was insufficient time before the last steamer for Lucerne, and we, therefore, contented ourselves with resting in the woods and loitering along the turnpike till the boat arrived to take us back. While thus resting, we heard strange sounds in the mountains, which we imagined might be either from snow avalanches or an earthquake. There was something terrible, first in the deep, smothered report, and then in the distant, louder reverberations from mountain to mountain. The mystery, however, was soon solved by a Swiss gentleman whom we met on our way to the village. He said the sound was caused by blasting in some mountain which was being tunneled for a railroad. We proceeded to the steamboat landing, and were speedily conveyed to within a short walk of our temporary home at Pension Kaufmann. The next day was Sunday, and in the forenoon we went into an old church where there were Roman Catholic services, and heard the music. Many poor people, kneeling before plaster images of the Virgin and of the crucifix, were engaged in their devotions, and we looked on and listened in silence. If we could not believe in their religion, we could but respect their apparent sincerity.

Attached to our boarding house is a garden, in which we sat one day in the shade and read aloud Byron's “Prisoner of Chillon" in anticipation of soon seeing the famous Castle of Chillon on Lake Leman. Our room overlooks the lake, and there being now a good moon, we enjoy a fine view of both night and

day. In the evening we have counted nearly a dozen row boats gliding to and fro upon the lake, their happy occupants giving utterance to their buoyant spirits in lively conversation, laughter, and song. Comfortable seats are provided along the street by the lake-a favorite resort for all.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THUN, SEPTEMBER 20. - At ten o'clock on the

morning of the 14th instant, in company with Mr. Thomas Evans, a prominent business man, and his daughter, from Washington, we started in a steamboat from Lucerne and proceeded to Alpnach, where we took four inside seats, previously engaged, in the main body of a diligence for Brienz, over the Brunig Pass. The diligence, drawn by four horses, is constructed for carrying at least nine passengers, including one on the driver's seat. The coupé accommodates two, and there is a high seat behind which also holds two. On this trip there were two diligences filled with travelers, besides a private carriage carrying two; so we went by twos all round. The road was very dusty, and, as one of our ladies remarked, when we alighted for a three franc dinner ready for us at Sarnen, we looked like millers. This fine dust somewhat marred the pleasure of the trip; but as our stage was generally ahead, our party suffered less in this regard than those behind. On the whole, it was an exciting ride-sometimes on the borders of lakes; sometimes on roads like that of Axenstein, cut through and in the sides of mount

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