it is blessed with all the charms of nature. The walks in the vicinity are delightful; there is one handsome promenade in the village shaded by walnut trees, and the grounds around the Kursaal, where there is music by a band three times a day, are very pleasant. Invalids go to the Kursaal, or to an institution connected therewith, for goat's whey, prepared under medical supervision; there is here also a grape cure establishment. Goat's whey is dispensed at half past six every morning during the summer at five francs a week for each person. To meet the expenses of the Kursaal, all visitors to Interlachen are charged in their board bill a fee of half a franc for one day, one franc for two or three days, and two francs a week, no matter whether they visit the Kursaal or not. However, nearly everybody goes there to hear the music, and nobody, we imagine, objects to contributing his mite toward the general entertainment.

Sight-seeing is comparatively easy in Switzerland, provided one does not care to climb too many mountains. It does not fatigue like cathedrals, museums, and galleries of paintings. The grand scenery of nature and the pure air we breathe here seem to satisfy. The villages are quiet, the living generally excellent - what delicious bread, butter, and honey are served!—and everything invites to peaceful rest. One, too, must be insensible indeed not to have his devotional feelings excited in a high degree as he beholds here the wonderful works of the Creator:

"Mark the sable woods

That shade sublime yon mountain's nodding brow;
With what religious awe the solemn scene

Commands your steps! As if the reverend form

Of Minos and of Numa should forsake

The Elysian seats, and down the embowering glade
Move to your pausing eye."

We left Interlachen in the forenoon of the 18th, and arrived at Thun in about two and a half hours, stopping at Pension Itten. We made the passage by railroad a short distance only to Neuhaus, thence the rest of the way by steamboat on Lake Thun. On the railroad they have open cars of two stories— the better to take in the surrounding scenery. From the lake the scenery is especially fine. The Jungfrau, Matterhorn, Monch, and other high mountains, whose names we did not learn, loom up in the distance, some covered with snow, while others are dark and frowning; and the banks of the lake smile with their beautiful villas and gardens. The village of Thun, containing about four thousand inhabitants, has, for the most part, a very ancient look, and we see here many odd-looking people, not a few of whom are stunted and suffering from that frightful malady, the goiter. Their dress is more or less singular. Here is a peasant woman returning in front of us from church on Sunday. She has on a short black petticoat, tight black velvet jacket. white muslin sleeves, starched stiffly, reaching to the elbow, long black mits, extending also to the elbow, with a silver necklace, attached to which are silver chains falling to and fastened at the waist in front. The river Aar runs through the town, along one side of which still stands a high wall built centuries ago; and there is on the hill overlooking the main village, and reached by long flights of stairs, an old cathedral, which looks as though it might have been built in the days of Moses the Prophet. Near by is the old Castle of Keyburg.

We saw

scarcely a decent looking store in the place. On the main street, which is narrow and dirty, there are rows of shops, one above the other, with side walks, as in the old town of Chester, England. Here and there are steps to go from one story to the other. In some parts there are two and in others three tiers of these little shops. The finest dwelling houses are outside of the village, as is also the principal hotel, the Bellevue. Mons. Rougemont, a wealthy gentleman of Paris, has a magnificent palace a modern castle-on the margin of the lake, with extensive grounds beautifully laid out and kept in perfect order. Before leaving home Consul General Hitz advised us by all means to stop at least one day in Thun, and knowing now, after two days' sojourn here, what a delightful place it is for rest and recuperation, we are sure we should have been very much out of tune had we neglected to follow his kind advice.

CHAPTER XXVII.

REIBURG, SEPTEMBER 21.-We left Thun at noon yesterday, and reached Berne, the capital of Switzerland, in about one hour by rail. The river Aar almost encircles the city, which is mainly situated on high ground. On the south side there is a platform or terrace, handsomely laid out in walks, provided with seats and planted with shade trees. From here we have a magnificent view of the Bernese Oberland—a long range of snow mountainsand the intervening landscape. On the side of this

platform toward the river there is a wall one hundred and eight feet high, between which and the river is what is called the Old Town. It makes one dizzy to look down upon the roofs of the houses flanking the river. "Near this giddy verge a marble slab records the following extraordinary escape: In 1654, Theobald Weinzapfli, a student of the place, unable to manage a restive horse which he rode; or having, according to the proverb, a spur in the head as well as in the heel,' was precipitated into the Lower Town. Strange to say, he escaped with only a broken arm and leg, and survived the accident thirty years as a preacher." To the horse, of course, the leap was fatal.

In the evening we attended an organ concert in the Cathedral, the most prominent structure in the city, and noted specially for some remarkable sculpture at the outside of the main entrance, representing "The Last Judgment." The interior of the church, which dates back to the sixteenth century, has few ornaments. There are monuments to Zahringen, the founder, and to Steinger, the chief magistrate, and the organ is regarded as among the best. We listened to the performance upon the organ in a dim lamplight. We have heard as good, if not better, organ playing in Washington. front of the Cathedral stands a bronze equestrian statue of Rod d'Erlach. The horse has his left foreleg raised as if about to start into a gallop, while his rider holds a flag staff, with the flag furled, in his right hand, the foot of the staff resting on the stirrup. The base of the statue is of white marble surrounded by an iron railing, at the corners of which are four bronze bears in a sitting posture. The bear is a prominent figure in Berne wherever you go, being

In

conspicuous in the armorial bearings or coats-ofarms of the Canton. At the entrance of the Morat Gate are two huge bears in stone, and in a den-or rather two dens, or pits, with a division wall between them—near the river several live bears are constantly kept at the public expense. In the center of one of these dens is erected the stem of a tree with its branches, on which, from time to time, they dispel dull care in frolicsome exercise. We went to see them. Their dens are encased with granite blocks, and are sunk from ten to fifteen feet below the street, so that spectators may have a good view of them over the wall, raised three or four feet high on the street side. They appeared very friendly, and did not wait for an introduction before begging us for bread and fruit, which is the only food the public is allowed to give them. They would sit upright, stand on their hind legs, reaching as far toward us as possible, and make various other signs indicating their wishes as plainly as though they had spoken the words. In the year 1861, an English captain, on a spree, undertook to walk around on the broad wall of their inclosure, and fell into it. A waiter at our hotel told us that a rope was lowered to him, which he seized and held until he was raised part of the way up before the noise attracted the attention of the bears in their adjoining lodge; but from some cause he fell again to the bottom, and was instantly torn in pieces by them. A fellowtraveler, from Connecticut, gave us an amusing account of his experience in getting to see these wild beasts. He had but an hour before he must take the train, and he started on foot for the bear dens, trusting to his Yankee shrewdness to find the way, although he could not speak a word either of German