more violent; people shouted aloud; they were taking heaven, as it were, by storm; but the prayers were all in Latin; always the same five Pater Nosters, and three Ave Marias, in succession, repeated with a fervency and hurry, as if all power and strength consisted in the number of prayers. Bands of ten or twelve pilgrims proceeded from altar to altar, from chapel to chapel, throughout the church, kneeling and repeating at every one, a number of Pater Nosters and Aves. Many of these pilgrims, as I was assured, are deputies for others, and for a certain fee, undertake to repeat here certain prayers, and to do a little, so-called, holy business—purchase indulgences, masses, and so on. Whilst the voices of the pilgrims, amidst the increasing darkness of the church, rushed like the waves of an agitated sea, the organ peeled a tranquilizing, monotonous Amen—so sounded the accords above the prayers of the people. Such was the conclusion of the scene. It was not edifying.
Early on the following morning, we drove under a brightening sky, back to Rapperschwyl. On the road, the two friends fell into an earnest conversation on political subjects, on the Swiss Revolutions, popular education, and such like questions, which so easily lead to bitter words and coolness between friends who discover themselves to entertain different opinions. The former comrades and fellow-students of Lausanne, even they discovered that, during the long separation of eight years, they had each taken different paths on more than one topic. And each advocated his own views warmly, but with so much moderation in expression, so much friendly regard and esteem for the
