There are the names of Byron, Hunt, Schiller, and
ever so many more celebrities. As we were going from the cell our
conductress seemed to have a sudden light upon her mind. She asked a
question or two of some of our party, and fell upon me vehemently to
put my name also there. Charley scratched it on the soft freestone,
and there it is for future ages. The lady could scarce repress her
enthusiasm; she shook my hand over and over again, and said she had
read 'Uncle Tom.' 'It is beautiful,' she said, 'but it is cruel.'
"_Monday, July_ 18. Weather suspicious. Stowed ourselves and our
baggage into our _voiture_, and bade adieu to our friends and to
Geneva. Ah, how regretfully! From the market-place we carried away a
basket of cherries and fruit as a consolation. Dined at Lausanne, and
visited the cathedral and picture-gallery, where was an exquisite
_Eva_. Slept at Meudon.
"_Tuesday, July_ 19. Rode through Payerne to Freyburg. Stopped at
the Z?hringer Hof,--most romantic of inns.
"_Wednesday, July_ 20. Examined, not the lions, but the bears of
Berne. Engaged a _coiture_ and drove to Thun. Dined and drove by
the shore of the lake to Interlachen, arriving just after a brilliant
sunset.
"We crossed the Wengern Alps to Grindelwald. The Jungfrau is right
over against us,--her glaciers purer, tenderer, more dazzlingly
beautiful, if possible, than those of Mont Blanc.
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