various knots tied in, as memories, and by the help of these I shall be able to uphold both you and myself.
The first leads me to the very beginning of this my pedestrian excursion to the high valleys of the Vaud, to the valley of Jessonay, and an evening spent there in the comfortable little inn, with a kind young couple, who were here to part, the one to become, from this point, my traveling companion, the other to return to her highland home and her little ones. But the young wife and mother wished to accompany her husband so far; and this evening, therefore, we spent happily together, the young couple, and their elderly friend, happy, both heart and soul, in the society of each other, and——in the midst of Alps and ice-fields it did the old heart good to warm itself with such memories from the domestic hearth. But now: now we must proceed on our journey.
And early on the lovely summer morning we set forth through the valleys of Jessonay and Simmen, magnificent scenery opening out on every hand, with “mountains high and low, deep valleys,” and waters of the Zweisimmen rushing along in their wild career by the side of our road, and sometimes precipitating themselves in foaming cascades. Human dwellings are small, and seem here even smaller than usual, in the bosom of the giant mother. But the Bernese cottages—for we are now in the Canton of Berne—are more elegant abodes, at least outwardly, than the cottages of the Canton of Vaud. They are adorned with exquisite carving, and with wooden galleries, often very peculiar; and upon the gallery are flower-pots, from which splendid red carnations tower upwards, or
