aris far more beautiful than we expected, and certainly as to
cleanliness it puts New York ages behind. We were four days in coming
from Paris to this place. We went up the lake of Geneva on one of the
finest days that could be asked for, and then the real joy of our
journey began; Paris and all its splendors faded away at once and
forever before these mountains, and as George had never visited Geneva,
or seen any of this scenery, my pleasure was doubled by his. Imagine, if
you can, how we felt when Mt. Blanc appeared in sight! We reached Vevay
just after sunset, and were soon established in neat rooms of quite
novel fashion. The floors were of unpainted white wood, checked off with
black walnut; the stairs were all of stone, the stove was of porcelain,
and every article of furniture was odd. But we had not much time to
spend in looking at things within doors, for the lake was in full view,
and the mountain tops were roseate with the last rays of the setting
sun, and the moon soon rose and added to the whole scene all it wanted
to make us half believe ourselves in a pleasant dream. I often asked
myself, "Can this be I!" "And _if_ it be I, as I hope it be"--

Early next morning, which was dear little M.'s birthday, we set off in
grand style for Chateau d'Oex. We hired a monstrous voiture which had
seats inside for four, and on top, with squeezing, seats for three,
besides the driver's seat; had five black horses, and dashed forth in
all our splendor, ten precious souls and all agog. I made a sandwich
between Mr. S. and George on top, and the "bonnes" and children were
packed inside. This was our great day. The weather was indescribably
beautiful; we felt ourselves approaching a place of rest and a welcome
home; the scenery was magnificent, and already the mountain air was
beginning to revive our exhausted souls and bodies. We sat all day hand
in hand, literally "lost in wonder." With all I had heard ever since I
was born about these mountains, I had not the faintest idea of their
real grandeur and beauty. We arrived here just after sunset, and soon
found ourselves among our friends. Mrs. Buck brought us up to our new
home, which we reached on foot (as our voiture could not ascend so high)
by a little winding path, by the side of which a little brook kept
running along to make music for us. It is a regular Swiss chalet, much
like the little models you have seen, only of a darker brown, and on
either side the mountains stan