hang down in splendid bouquets, in the midst of which you may see, at times, the father in his night-cap, smoking his pipe, and the mother, in her elegant Bernese costume, busied about one thing or another. The people seem to be in good circumstances; and the Swiss cottage, with its great roof, resembles a large hen with bright-colored feathers, covering her brood with outstretched wings.
By degrees, the valley becomes narrower, and, as it
were, tamer—more idyllian—but it resumes its
magnificent proportions when it expands towards the
region in which the lake of Thun lies, as amid a verdant
garland, encompassed by the icy giants of the
Oberland. Again I say, make a journey to Thun, if you
can; and go thither from this side. I do not believe
you can find any thing more magnificently beautiful
in the world. The scene reminded me of one in
Sweden, that of the Wetter-lake, with Jönköpping on
its banks, as you descend down the forest-pass of
Oestergöthland." Nay, but that has no showy Alps as a
back-ground.
And never have I spent a more spiritually beautiful evening than the last, on the shores of the lake of Thun. “Föhn,” the sirocco of Switzerland, rustled unceasingly in the lofty trees of “La Chartreuse,” and a heavy storm which had collected, discharged itself in lightnings which blazed on all sides around us, without thunder, and with merely a few drops of rain. When we returned towards the town it had cleared; the bells were ringing, and the moon, like a harbinger of peace, ascended out of the huge cloud which now retired behind the Alps. We expected a storm to-
