mantic elements of his fate have made him the hero of the popular imagination, because it loves the bold and the striking. That there existed among the Scandinavian traditions the story of a father who was compelled to shoot an apple from his son's head, long before the story existed in Switzerland, seems to me no argument against its truth in that country. True, or untrue, however, it ought to serve as one proof more of the Scandinavian emigration, of which I have spoken; because the emigrants would assuredly carry with them their manners and traditions. Perhaps it might be this very tradition which suggested to Gessler the trial of shooting at the mark to which he put the stiff-necked Switzer! Such repetitions of facts are not by any means new under the sun.
We had a proof how deeply the episode of Tell lives in the memory of the people, from a little incident near Andermatt. During the lovely evening of our arrival there, we went out, my friend and I, to see the wild fall of Reuss, at the Pont du Diable, one of those beautiful, terrible scenes, in which Switzerland, more than any other country, abounds. On our return, we saw an elderly woman standing before a little chapel, into the trellised windows of which she was peeping, with more of curiosity than devotion, as it seemed to us. As we approached, she turned round and saluted us in a friendly manner. She was a tall, handsome woman, with strong features, well dressed in the country costume, and with the white over the head which I had already observed to be general amongst the women of this vale, and which I had seen nowhere else so worn, except by the country women in Sweden.
