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

ains; then again we were on the summit of a mountain looking away down into flourishing, inhabited valleys, every available spot of which was under cultivation. So high were we that the rivers running through the valleys and cascades on the opposite mountain sides looked like silver threads in the sunlight. Now and then we passed a rustic dwelling, its projecting gable end to the south, snuggled in against a side hill or ledge to protect it from the cold blasts of winter. A considerable part of the way is through forests of spruce, pine, and hard wood, cords of which lie piled here and there by the roadside, and looking as though it had experienced rough usage, as it no doubt had, in being pitched down the steep mountains, scraping the bark off and bruising its cut ends like a beetle. It was near sundown when we reached Brienz, a village of some two thousand inhabitants, at the head of the lake by that name, and here we went immediately upon a small steamboat, which, in fifteen or twenty minutes, took us across to Giesbach, where we stopped over night to see the Giesbach Falls illuminated. Here is a succession of cataracts formed by a large body of water, tumbling and frolicking over rocky beds down a mountain several thousand feet high into the lake. Leaving our baggage, except what we carried in a shawl-strap, at the steamboat landing, we made our zig-zag way on foot up the side of the mountain one thousand feet to a magnificent hotel, situated on a plateau just large enough to afford suitable room for it, with its "dependence," until recently the main hotel there, and an adjacent garden. From the new hotel to the "dependence" there is a covered way. From the balcony of the hotel the falls, which have been bridged at several

points for beauty of effect, are in plain sight; but the stream much of the way is concealed by the woods. Between eight and nine o'clock lantern lights are seen moving through the forest up the mountain and stopping near the different cataracts. Men have been sent with their chemical preparations for Bengal, or some other kind of lights, and expectation is now on tip-toe for the signal of illumination. We have not long to wait. A rocket is let off, and instantly a bright light appears, first at the upper falls, then at the next, and so on until all are in a blaze of various brilliant colors. The rustic bridges looked like amber, then like iron at white heat, and then like molten gold, as the colors were changed. The illumination lasted four or five minutes only; but it is a charming sight no traveler should miss. The charge to meet the expense is one franc to each guest.

At half past eleven next morning we returned to the landing and awaited the arrival of the steamboat for Interlachen, meantime being entertained by four wandering women singers, whose music was quite unique. Whether native or Tyrolese we could not tell; but their singing was both odd and funny. In about an hour and a half later we were in Interlachen, comfortably lodged at Pension Reber, recommended to us by our landlady at Lucerne. Our room, with a balcony, looks out upon the Jungfrau, covered by snow all seasons of the year, and on either side, in full view, are other mountains of immense height nearer the village. Interlachen is situated between the Lakes of Thun and Brienz, some seventeen hundred feet above the level of the sea. It is surrounded by high mountains, and while there is little of interest here in the way of art,