would suppose that the question of whether Tell shot the apple or
didn't was an important matter; whereas it ranks in importance exactly
with the question of whether Washington chopped down the cherry-tree or
didn't. The deeds of Washington, the patriot, are the essential thing;
the cherry-tree incident is of no consequence. To prove that Tell did
shoot the apple from his son's head would merely prove that he had
better nerve than most men and was skillful with a bow as a million
others who preceded and followed him, but not one whit more so. But Tell
was more and better than a mere marksman, more and better than a mere
cool head; he was a type; he stands for Swiss patriotism; in his person
was represented a whole people; his spirit was their spirit--the spirit
which would bow to none but God, the spirit which said this in words
and confirmed it with deeds. There have always been Tells in
Switzerland--people who would not bow. There was a sufficiency of them
at Rutli; there were plenty of them at Murten; plenty at Grandson; there
are plenty today. And the first of them all--the very first, earliest
banner-bearer of human freedom in this world--was not a man, but a
woman--Stauffacher's wife. There she looms dim and great, through the
haze of the centuries, delivering into her husband's ear that gospel of
revolt which was to bear fruit in the conspiracy of Rutli and the birth
of the first free government the world had ever seen.

From this Victoria Hotel one looks straight across a flat of trifling
width to a lofty mountain barrier, which has a gateway in it shaped like
an inverted pyramid. Beyond this gateway arises the vast bulk of the
Jungfrau, a spotless mass of gleaming snow, into the sky. The gateway,
in the dark-colored barrier, makes a strong frame for the great picture.
The somber frame and the glowing snow-pile are startlingly contrasted.
It is this frame which concentrates and emphasizes the glory of the
Jungfrau and makes it the most engaging and beguiling and fascinating
spectacle that exists on the earth. There are many mountains of snow
that are as lofty as the Jungfrau and as nobly proportioned, but they
lack the fame. They stand at large; they are intruded upon and elbowed
by neighboring domes and summits, and their grandeur is diminished and
fails of effect.

It is a good name, Jungfrau--Virgin. Nothing could be whiter; nothing
could be purer; nothing could be saintlier of aspect. At six yesterday
eveni