There Is A Fresh And Savage Beauty
About This Lake, Which Can Only Be Realized By Rowing Across.
Interlachen is underrated in the guide books.
It has points of
unrivalled loveliness; the ruins of the old church of Rinconberg, for
example, commanding a fine view of both lakes, of the country between,
and the Alps around, while just at your feet is a little lake in a
basin, some two hundred feet above the other lakes. Then, too, from
your window in the Belvedere, you gaze upon the purity of the
Jungfrau. The church, too, where on Sabbath we attended Episcopal
service, is embowered in foliage, and seems like some New England
village meeting house.
Monday, July 25. Adieu to Interlachen! Ho for Lucerne and the Righi!
Dined at Thun in a thunder storm. Stopped over night at Langnau, an
out-of-the-way place. H. and G. painted Alpine flowers, while I played
violin. This violin must be of spotless pedigree, even as our Genevese
friend, Monsieur - , certified when he reluctantly sold it me. None
but a genuine AMATI, a hundred years old, can possess this mysterious
quality, that can breathe almost inaudible, like a mornbeam in the
parlor, or predominate imperious and intense over orchestra and choir,
illuminating with its fire, like chain lightning, the arches of a vast
cathedral. Enchanted thing - what nameless spirit impregnates with
magnetic ether the fine fibres of thy mechanism!
Tuesday, 26. Rode from Langnan to Lucerne just in time to take the
boat for Weggis.
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