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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 Zahringer Hof,--most romantic of inns.Wednesday, July 20.
Examined, not the lions, but the bears of Berne. Engaged a voiture 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. Slept at Grindelwald.From Rosenlaui, on this journey, Charles Beecher writes:--
