The arrival of the steamer at noon is the event of our day. Several times acquaintance have come by it, chance visitants to the lake of Como. When we hear the bell, my companions leave their books to run down to see the disembarkation: to-day I heard one of them exclaim, “Ah, here’s D!” This announced the arrival of a fellow-collegian, who joined our party for two or three weeks, to the great satisfaction of his friends.
The snow is gone from the mountain tops; warm, really warm weather has commenced, and we begin to enjoy one of the most delicious pleasures of life, in its way. The repose necessitated by heat during the day, the revival in the evening, the enjoyment of the cooler hours, the enchantment of the nights—to stroll beside or linger upon the divine lake, to see the sun’s declining rays gild the mountain peaks, to watch the stars gather bright over the craggy summits, to view the vast shadows darken the waters, and hear the soft tinkling bells, put by the fishermen to mark the spot where the nets are set, come with softened sound across the water: this has been our lot each evening. Each evening, too, at dusk, the girls from the silk mill close by,
