morrow, and the physiognomy of the sky promised nothing agreeable; but, towards noon, the clouds vanished, and the sail across the lake of Thun was as lovely as a scene of enchantment. Standing on the deck, I closed my eyes, that I might, as it were, feel and enjoy, with a more intense inwardness, the inimitable delight of the air, through which I seemed to myself to be flying; and when I again opened them, behold, I then, was actually flying through the bright ethereal space towards the glittering snow-white heights, which stood forth in their calm magnitude, and breathed freshness towards us. Every object shone, but as if through a thin, gauze vail, like that which the Indian summer spreads over the landscape of North America. It was like fairy-land; it was magically beautiful. One did not wish to speak, or to move, but only to see and to feel. My friend and traveling companion felt it just as I did, and so, I fancy, did every one on board, for a deep silence prevailed. The wind, too, was still; and the lake lay smooth as a mirror.
The hospitality of kind friends enhanced to me the pleasure of this second visit to the lake of Thun. Thou little lake—thou little town—thou magnificent scene I shall never forget you!
It was the height of the season at Interlachen. All the hotels were full. The grand promenade was thronged with elegant ladies and gentlemen; one might have believed one's-self on a Parisian boulevard; but all around was heard the ringing of the cow-bells in chorus, reminding one that one was in a Swiss valley. The number of guests at this little Interlachen now amounted to about five hundred.
- Vol. I.—7
