morning. The sun glanced through the trees as if to caress the beautiful monument. It is hewn in the rock—a colossal lion drooping in death over a broken column, which, though expiring, it still seeks to defend. The expression of sorrow and suffering in the countenance of the noble animal, is indescribable. 0ne might say that it weeps. It made me weep. The design was by Thorwaldsen, that son of Iceland, who gave to all his works, the stamp of life, which genius alone can give. At the foot of the mountain-wall and the lion, lies a little sheet of water, deep and dark, reflecting the figure of the lion, the shadowy trees around it, and the sky which glances through them.
Alone of its kind also, is the panorama of Rhigi, which its artist, M. Meyer, now exhibits here. One sees the rosy dawn ascending, and the sun set above the magnificent scene, which is said to be painted with admirable fidelity. I shall soon perhaps be able to judge of this, as in the afternoon we ascend Rhigi. But without fine weather, nothing is to be seen. Mount Pilatus wears a nightcap of cloud which, people say, denotes rain. Perhaps, therefore, Mr. Meyer's panorama may be my only view from Rhigi. In order to accomplish this work, it is said that he ascended Rhigi one hundred and twenty times.
Rhigi Culm, September 1st.—There is undeniably, nothing like “weather-luck!” And without having something of this kind, people ought not to travel, because all the pleasure of the journey depends upon it. I am fortunate enough to have a little of this good luck, and that even now on the Rhigi.
