the sight of this young, handsome couple, before whom the early “morning dew lay still upon life,” and to whom the reality of life was now the most beautiful idyl. They had only been married fourteen days, and had been living here ten. They were young, good, handsome, in easy circumstances; they loved each other; they would live and labor together in the bosom of this fresh, grand, and pleasant country. Oh, say not that life is only a valley of tears! Amongst its dark shadows, what bright, lovely pictures present themselves!
I wandered on for about an hour before I reached “Le Creux,” a hollow in the valley, where lies a little peasant farm, surrounded by trees and hilly crofts, in the very midst of an actual colosseum of primeval rocks, crowned by two ice-towers, Les Diablerets. From these icy walls, two hundred feet high, fall the torrents which form “La Grande Eau,” which roar through the valley and, lower down, swell the waters of the Rhone. The owner of the peasant farm, generally called Père Ansermey, is one of the most esteemed and valued elders of the Free Church. He has fitted up a few rooms in his chalet, for the reception of strangers, who wish to spend the hot summer months in the cool valleys, and here a room was also prepared for me. Several ladies were residing here for the summer from various countries—Switzerland, Germany, England, Scotland—but all of such amiable and well-trained characters that they lived together as an actual band of sisters. They received me as a sister. They gratified my wishes in the most kind manner, gave me the best room in the house, the best of every thing. I cannot describe how
