Many
women are employed in painting the designs. The workmen looked
intelligent and thoughtful, like men who can both think and do. Some
glimpses showed their sympathy with republicanism - as one should see
fire through a closed door.
I have had full reason to observe that difference between Protestant
and Catholic cantons on which Horace Greeley commented while here.
They are as different as our slave and free states, and in the same
ways. Geneva seems like New England - the country around is well
cultivated, and speaks of thrift. But, still, I find no land, however
beautiful, that can compare with home - Andover Hill, with its arched
elms, its blue distance pointing with spires, its Merrimac crowned
with labor palaces, and, above all, an old stone house, brown and
queer, &c. Good by.
JOURNAL - (CONTINUED.)
Thursday, July 14. Spent a social evening at Mrs. La V.'s, on the lake
shore. Mont Blanc invisible. We met M. Merle d'Aubigne, brother of our
hostess, and a few other friends. Returned home, and listened to a
serenade to H. from a glee club of fifty performers, of the working
men of Geneva. The songs were mostly in French, and the burden of one
of them seemed to be in words like these: -
"Travaillons, travaillez,
Pour la liberte!"
Friday, July 15. Mrs. C. and her two daughters are here from Paris.
They intend to come to Madame Fazy till we leave.
Saturday, July 16. Our whole company resorted to the lake, and spent
the forenoon on its tranquil waters. If this life seem idle, we
remember that there must be valleys between mountains; and as, in
those vales, tired mountaineers love to rest, so we, by the silver
shore of summer Leman, while away the quiet hours, in this interval,
between great mountain epochs Chamouni and Oberland.
Monday, July 18. Weather suspicious. Stowed ourselves and our baggage
into our _voiture_, and bade adieu to our friends and to Geneva.
Ah, how regretfully! From the market-place we carried away a basket of
cherries and fruit, as a consolation. Dined at Lausanne, and visited
the cathedral and picture gallery, where was an exquisite _Eva._
Slept at Meudon.
Tuesday, July 19. Rode through Payerne to Freyburg. Stopped at the
Zahringer Hof - most romantic of inns. Our gentlemanly host ushered us
forth upon a terrace overhanging the deep gorge of the Saaerine,
spanned, to the right and left of us, by two immense suspension
bridges, one of which seemed to spring from the hotel itself. Ruins of
ancient walls and watch towers lined the precipice.
After dinner we visited the cathedral to hear the celebrated organ.
The organist performed a piece descriptive of a storm. We resigned
ourselves to the illusion.
