Rollo was glad when the visit to this place was ended; so he ran on before his father and mother in going out, and was on his seat by the side of the postilion long before they came to the carriage.

Ferney, though so near to Geneva, is within the confines of France, and the carriage passed the line between the two countries in going home. There was a little custom house and two or three armed policemen at the frontier; but the party of travellers were not molested, and so in due time they arrived safely home.



CHAPTER VII.

THE JUNCTION OF THE ARVE.

One evening, when Rollo was walking with his father and mother on one of the bridges which led over the river, they stopped at a place where two boys were fishing, and looked down over the railing into the water. The water was quite deep, but they could see the stones on the bottom of it almost as distinctly as if they had been looking only through the air.

"How very clear the water is!" said Mrs. Holiday; "and what a beautiful tinge it has! What is the reason of it?"

"I don't know what the reason is of the blue tinge," said Mr. Holiday; "but the cause of its being so clear is, that it flows out of this great lake, where it has been lying so long that it has had time to settle perfectly.

"There is a great difference in the streams of Switzerland," continued Mr. Holiday. "Some are exceedingly clear, and some are exceedingly turbid. There are two ways by which the turbid waters become purified. One is, by being filtered through the sands under ground; and the other is, by 'settling', as we call it, in the lakes. The water of the fountain that we saw on our way to Ferney was beautifully clear, and it was made so by filtration in the sand, in coming down through the heart of the mountain. This water, on the other hand, is made clear by its impurities subsiding in the lake."

"And it comes in muddy at the other end," said Rollo.

"Not muddy, exactly," rejoined Mr. Holiday, "but very turbid. The turbidness of it is not mud precisely. It comes from the grinding up of rocks by the slow march of the glaciers over and among them. Thus all the streams that come from glaciers are very turbid; and so long as the waters flow on in an uninterrupted stream they continue turbid; but when they form a lake, the particles of stone subside, and the water comes out at the lower end of the lake perfectly clear."

"And then continues clear till it gets to the ocean, I suppose," said Mrs. Holiday.

"Yes," replied Mr. Holiday, "unless some other turbid stream, which has no lake to settle itself in, falls into it and pollutes it again.

"That is the case with this river. It is very clear and beautiful here, where it comes out of the lake, but the Arve comes in a mile or two below Geneva, and brings an immense volume of turbid water. This makes the whole river turbid again after the waters of the two rivers have flowed long enough together to get well mixed, and then it continues turbid all the way to the sea. There is no other lake to settle it.

"I am told," said Mr. Holiday, "that the coming in of the turbid torrent of the Arve into the clear blue waters of the Rhone is a very pretty spectacle, and I should like very much to see it; but it is rather too far to go."

"O, no, father," said Rollo; "let us go."

"How far is it?" asked Mrs. Holiday.

"About a mile, I should think, by the map," said Mr. Holiday; "but there seems to be no carriage road to the place. If there had been a carriage road I should have taken you there; for I should like very well to have you see the place."

"But, father, we can walk there very easily," said Rollo. "There is a nice path along the bank of the river. I saw it the other day, when I was down below the bridge."

"Well," said Mrs. Holiday, "I should like to go very much, if we could go in the morning or in the evening, when it is cool. Is the walk shady, Rollo?"

"Yes, mother, it is shady in the morning. There is a high hedge all along on one side of the path, and that keeps the sun off in the morning. In the evening the sun comes round to the other side."

"Then we will go in the morning," said Mrs. Holiday. "Let us get up early to-morrow morning, and go before breakfast."

Mrs. Holiday was really desirous of seeing this famous junction of the Rhone and the Arve; but her chief interest in making the excursion arose from her sympathy with Rollo, and from observing how much he wished to go. It is always so with a mother. When her children are kind and attentive to her, and obedient to her wishes, she always desires most strongly to do what will most gratify them.

The plan was arranged according to Mrs. Holiday's proposal, and the next morning the party set out at half past six o'clock. Rollo led the way.

"What I should like best," said Rollo, turning round so as to face his father and mother, and walking backward, "would be to take a boat, and shoot down the river under these bridges."

"Ah," said his father, "that would not do. The current is too swift. At any rate, if you were to go down you would never get the boat back again. The water runs like a mill race.

"Indeed, it is a mill race," continued Mr. Holiday. "Don't you see the mill wheels projecting into the stream, here and there? They are carried by the natural force of the current."

After passing by the buildings of the town, Rollo led the way over a narrow wooden bridge, which passed across the old moat of the town. The remains of a monstrous bastion were to be seen beyond it.

"This is a part of the old fortifications," said Rollo. "They are cutting them all to pieces now with roads and bridges leading in and out the town."

After going beyond these embankments, Rollo led the way to a path which lay along the river side. Very soon the path began to be a very pleasant one indeed. Mrs. Holiday was delighted with it. It was close to the margin of the water, and only a very few inches above the level of it. The current was very swift, and the water was so blue, and clear, and beautiful, that it was a continual pleasure to look down into it, and to watch the little waves and ripples that curled, and twirled, and dashed against the shore.

There was a row of willows between the paths and the water, or rather in the margin of the water, for the path was so near to the stream that there was scarcely room for the willows on the land. On the other side of the path there was a close hedge, which formed the boundary of a region of fields, meadows, and gardens. Here and there were gates leading through this hedge; and the party, as they walked along, could look through the openings and see the peasant girls coming out to their work from the houses. The whole region, though it was highly cultivated and extremely beautiful, was very flat and level, and was only raised two or three feet above the level of the water.

From each gateway or other opening through the hedge there were paths leading off through the fields and gardens to the houses; and there were steps at the gates leading down to the pathway that lay along the margin of the stream. The people of the houses were accustomed, it seemed, to come down there to get water.

Thus the party walked along, with the rapid current of the river close to their feet on one side, and the high green hedge shutting them in on the other, while the tops of the willow trees spreading over their heads completed the coolness and shadiness of the pathway. Rollo led the way, and his father and mother followed, one by one, for the path was not wide enough for two to walk together.



Presently they came to a place where a large water wheel of a very curious construction was seen revolving quite near the shore. They stopped to look at it. They liked to see it revolving; and then besides they wished to examine the construction of it. It was mounted on a frame of timbers that had been set up for it in the water, at a little distance from the shore. The wheel itself was much like the wheel of a steamboat; only, in addition to the ordinary float boards, it had a series of buckets on the edge of it, which took up the water from the stream, as the wheel revolved, and emptied it into a trough above, as they went over. From this trough there was a circular pipe, made very strong, which conveyed the water by a subterranean aqueduct into the field opposite, where it rose into a reservoir by the pressure of the column in the pipe, and was used to irrigate the ground.

Across the river at this place was a beautiful view of fields, vineyards, terraces, and gardens; for on that side the bank was high, and as the sun shone directly upon it, the whole scene presented to view was extremely bright and beautiful.

At one of the gates which opened through the hedge, Rollo stopped to look in. He saw gardens laid out in squares, with corn, and beans, and various garden vegetables growing luxuriantly in them. There were rows of fruit trees, too, bordering the paths, and at a distance were to be seen houses scattered here and there over the plain, the dwellings of the owners of the land. Each house had its little barns and granaries connected with it, the whole group being half concealed by the foliage of the trees and shrubs that had been planted around it.

"Will it do for us to go in," said Rollo to his father, "and walk a part of the way through these gardens?"

"Yes," said his father, "I presume it will do; but perhaps we had better go down all the way by the path, and come back by the gardens."

"Yes, sir," said Rollo; "that will be much the best plan.

"But, father," continued Rollo, "if we should go across these gardens, and keep on in that direction for some time, I suppose that we should come to the Arve."

"Yes," said his father; "the Arve is coming down from the mountains, and flowing towards the Rhone not very far from here, on the other side of this flat land. This land constitutes a sort of tongue lying between the two rivers. I suppose it has been formed by the deposits that the Arve brings down. I have no doubt that if we should walk across the tongue of land, we should come to the Arve; but it is better to go on down the path till we reach the point where the two rivers come together."

"Well," said Rollo, "we will go on."

So they went on along the path, as before.

Rollo soon had occasion to be glad that he had acceded so readily to his father's wishes to continue in the path; for he soon came to something that amused him very much. It was a man sitting in the top of one of the willow trees that overhung the path, fishing. The willow leaned very much, and this made it easy to climb the stem of it. It had been headed down, too, so that there was a pretty good place to sit on the top of it. It was on the very brink of the stream, and indeed the leaning of the stem carried the top of the willow somewhat over the water, and thus it made quite a good place to sit and fish.

The current flowed very swiftly under the willow tree, and the fishing line was carried far down the stream.

"Ah!" said Rollo; "that is just such a place as I should like to have. I should like to sit up in that tree and fish all the morning."

"I should think it might be a little lonesome," said Mr. Holiday.

"No," said Rollo; "or perhaps there might be some other boys in the other trees."

So saying, Rollo looked up and down the stream, to see if there were any other trees so formed as to furnish a seat for a fisherman in the top of them; but there were none.

Here you see a picture of the man as Rollo saw him.



As the party went on after this they found evidences increasing that they were drawing near to the junction of the rivers. The hedge became less regular, and at length ceased altogether. Its place was supplied by dense thickets formed of alders, willows, and long grass. The ground became more and more uneven, and at length nothing of the path was left but a narrow ridge or dike that had been formed artificially along the shore, with a crooked little footway on the top of it.

At last Rollo began to see through the bushes occasional glimpses of water on the other side.

"There, father!" said he, "there! We are coming to the Arve."

"Yes," said Mrs. Holiday; "and I don't suppose that we can go much farther."

Indeed, it would have been impossible to go much farther, if there had not been a small embankment made to serve for a pathway. The party, though expecting every moment to be obliged to turn back, still went on. At length the whole expanse of the Arve opened before them as it came in from the left—its waters boiling, whirling, and sweeping in great circles as it came on, and the whole surface of it as gray as the sand on the shores. On the other side was the Rhone, blue, and pellucid, and beautiful as the sky above.

"What an extraordinary spectacle!" said Mr. Holiday.

"Come, mother," said Rollo, "we can go on a good deal farther yet."

Rollo was right; for the walk, instead of coming to an end at the extremity of the point which separated the two rivers, was continued along a little dike or embankment which seemed to have been made artificially some distance down between the two streams. This dike was very narrow, being just wide enough indeed for a narrow footpath.

In advancing along this path it was very curious to observe the totally different aspects of the water on the two sides of it. On the one side it was turbid and gray, and perfectly opaque. You could not have seen the pollywogs in the shallowest places along the margin. On the other side it was so clear and transparent that you could have seen fishes swimming where it was ten feet deep. It was of such a rich and beautiful blue color, too, as if it had been tinted with a dye, and the color was of so rich and brilliant a hue, that Mrs. Holiday was continually admiring and praising it.

This narrow path, dividing thus the waters of the two rivers, continued several yards; but at length it came to an end. The party all went on till they reached the extremity of it, and there, looking still farther on, they saw the line of demarcation between the gray water and the blue extending itself before them as far as they could see. The two rivers remained for a long distance perfectly distinct, though struggling and contending against each other, as it were, all the way. The line was broken and indented all along by the strife of the waters—the gray for a moment penetrating into the blue, and then the next instant the blue forcing itself into the gray. The waters went on struggling against each other in this manner as far as the eye could follow them.

The party remained on the extremity of the point a long time, observing this singular phenomenon. At length it began to be pretty warm there; for the narrow tongue of land which projected so far between the two currents was exposed to the sun, which had now risen so high that there was a good deal of heat in his rays.

So they set out on their return home. On the way back they walked a considerable distance through the fields and gardens. They went into them from the path along the shore, through one of the open gates, and they went back to the path again by another.



CHAPTER VIII.

SEEING MONT BLANC GO OUT.

"Father," said Rollo to Mr. Holiday, at dinner one day, "what are you going to do this evening?"

"We are going to see Mont Blanc go out," said his father.

Mr. Holiday answered Rollo in French, using a phrase very common in Geneva to denote the gradual fading away of the rosy light left upon Mont Blanc by the setting sun; for the sun, just at the time of its setting, gilds the mountain with a peculiar rosy light, as if it were a cloud. This light gradually fades away as the sun goes down, until the lower part of the mountain becomes of a dead and ghostly white, while the roseate hue still lingers on the summit, as if the top of the mountain were tipped with flame. These last beams finally disappear, and then the whole expanse of snow assumes a deathlike and wintry whiteness. The inhabitants of Geneva, and those who live in the environs, often go out to their gardens and summer houses in the summer evenings, just as the sun is going down, to see, as they express it, Mont Blanc go out;[E] and strangers who visit Geneva always desire, if they can, to witness the spectacle. There are, however, not a great many evenings in the year when it can be witnessed to advantage, the mountain is so often enveloped in clouds.

[Footnote E: The phrase is, in French, Pour voir le Mont Blanc s'eteindre.]

Rollo had heard the phrase before, and he knew very well what his father meant.

"Well," said he, in a tone of satisfaction; "and may I go too?"

"Yes," said his father; "we should like to have you go very much. But there is a question to be decided—how we shall go. The best point of view is somewhere on the shore along the lake, on the other side of the bridge. There are three ways of going. We can walk across the bridge, and then follow the road along the shore till we come to a good place, or we can take a carriage, and order the coachman to drive out any where into the neighborhood, where there is a good view of the mountain, or we can go in a boat."

"In a boat, father!" said Rollo, eagerly. "Let us go in a boat!"

"The objection to that," said Mr. Holiday, "is, that it is more trouble to go and engage a boat. There are plenty of carriages here at the very door, and I can have one at a moment's notice, by just holding up my finger."

"And, father," said Rollo, "so there are plenty of boats right down here by the quay, and I can get one of them in a moment, just by holding up my finger."

"Well," said Mr. Holiday, "we will go in a boat if you will take all the trouble of engaging one."

Rollo liked nothing better than this, and as soon as dinner was over he went out upon the quay to engage a boat, while his father and mother went up to their room to get ready to go.

Rollo found plenty of boats at the landing. Some of them were very pretty. He chose one which seemed to have comfortable seats in it for his father and mother. It was a boat, too, that had the American flag flying at the stern. Some of the boatmen get American flags, and raise them on their boats, out of compliment to their numerous American customers.

Soon after Rollo had engaged the boat, his father and mother came, and they all embarked on board. The boatman rowed them off from the shore. The sun was just going down. There were a great many boats plying to and fro about the lake, and the quays and the little islet were crowded with people.

After rowing about a quarter of a mile, the boatman brought the range of the Alps into full view through an opening between the nearer hills. The sun was shining full upon them, and illuminating them with a dazzling white light, very beautiful, but without any rosy hue.

"They don't look rosy at all," said Rollo.

"No," said Mr. Holiday, "not now. They do not take the rosy hue till the sun has gone down."

The boatman rowed on a little farther, so as to obtain a still better view. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday watched the mountains; but Rollo was more interested in the scene immediately around him. He watched the boats that were plying to and fro over the surface of the lake, and the different parties of ladies and gentlemen in them. He gazed on the quays, too, all around, and on the islet, which was not far off, and on the people that he saw there, some walking to and fro, and others leaning over the parapet and looking out upon the water.

"Rollo," said Mr. Holiday, "see if there is a rudder."

"Yes, father, there is," said Rollo. So saying, he climbed over the seats, between his father and mother, and took his place by the rudder.

"Steer us, then, over to the opposite shore, wherever you see there is a pleasant place to land."

Rollo was glad and sorry both to receive this command. He was glad to have the pleasure of steering, but he was sorry that his father intended to land. He would have preferred remaining out upon the water.

He, however, obeyed his father's command, and steered towards the farther shore, turning the head of the boat in an oblique direction, a little way up the lake. Presently Mr. Holiday saw some friends of his in a boat that was coming in the opposite direction. He ordered Rollo to steer towards them. Rollo did so, and soon the boats came alongside. The oarsmen of both boats stopped rowing, and the two parties in them came to a parley.

There was a little girl in the other boat, named Lucia. There was no other child in that boat, and so there was nobody for Lucia to play with. Lucia therefore asked her father and mother to allow her to get over into Mr. Holiday's boat, so that she could have somebody to play with.

"Why, Lucia," said her mother, "Rollo is a great boy. He is too big to play with you."

"I know it," said Lucia; "but then he is better than nobody."

Rollo might perhaps have been made to feel somewhat piqued at being considered by a young lady as only better than nobody for a companion, had it not been for the nature of the objection, which was only that he was too large. So he felt complimented rather than otherwise, and he cordially seconded Lucia's wish that she might be transferred to his father's boat, and at length her mother consented. Lucia stepped carefully over the gunwales, and thus got into Mr. Holiday's boat. She immediately passed along to the stern, and took her place by the side of Rollo at the rudder. The boats then separated from each other, and each went on its own way.

"What is this handle," said Lucia, "that you are taking hold of?"

"It is the tiller," said Rollo.

"And what is it for?" asked Lucia.

"It is the handle of the rudder," said Rollo. "The rudder is what we steer the boat by, and the tiller is the handle of it. The rudder itself is down below the water."

So Rollo let Lucia look over the end of the boat and see the rudder in the water.

Rollo then proceeded to explain the operation of the rudder.

"You see," said he, "that when I move the tiller over this way, then the head of the boat turns the other way; and when I move it over that way, then the head of the boat comes round this way. The head of the boat always goes the contrary way."

"I don't see why it should go the contrary way," said Lucia. "I should think it ought to go the same way."

"No," replied Rollo; "it goes the contrary way. And now I am going to steer to a good place to land on the shore over there."

So saying, Rollo pointed to the shore towards which the boat was going.

The boat was now drawing near the shore. There was first a landing, where several small vessels were drawn up, and immense piles of wood in great wood yards.

This wood had a very singular appearance. The bark was all off, and the ends of the logs looked rounded and worn, as if they had been washed in the water. The reason was, that the wood had grown on the sides of the mountains, and had been brought down to the lake by the torrents which pour down the mountain sides with great force in time of rain.

"We won't land in the wood yards—will we?" said Rollo.

"No," said Lucia; "but there's a pretty place to land, a little farther on."

So saying, Lucia pointed to a very pretty part of the shore, a little farther on. There seemed to be a garden, and a little green lawn, with large trees overshadowing it; and at one place there was a projecting point where there was a summer house with a table in it, and a seat outside, near the beach, under a bower.

"Yes," said Rollo; "that is a very pretty place; but it looks like private ground. I think we must not land there."

As the boat glided by this place, Rollo and Lucia saw some ladies and gentlemen sitting in the summer house. The gentlemen took off their hats and bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Holiday as they passed by.

Next the boat came to a place where there was a low parapet wall along the shore, and behind it were to be seen the heads of a number of men who seemed to be sitting at tables, and drinking coffee or beer.

"Here is a good place to land," said Lucia.

"No," said Rollo; "this seems to be some sort of public place, full of men. We had better go a little farther."

So Rollo steered on, keeping all the time at just a safe distance from the shore. The water was most beautifully transparent and clear, so that all the pretty stones and pebbles on the bottom could be seen very distinctly at a great depth.

"What pretty water!" said Lucia.

"Yes," said Rollo, "it is so clear."

"What makes it so clear?" asked Lucia.

"Because the lake is so long," said Rollo, "and this is the lower end of it, and the water has time to settle. At the other end, where the water comes in, it is not so clear. This is the end where the water runs out."

A moment afterwards they came to a very pleasant landing, at a place where the road lay pretty near the water. Between the road and the water, however, there was a space of green grass, with large trees overshadowing it, and several wooden settees, painted green, under the trees.

"Ah!" said Rollo, "here is just the place for us.

"Father," he added, "do you think it would be a good plan to land here?"

"Yes," said his father; "we could not have had a better place. I thought you would find a pleasant landing for us if I gave you the command."

So Rollo brought the boat up to the shore, and they all got out. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday walked up and took their seats on one of the settees, while Rollo and Lucia began to run about and play along the parapet wall which separated the promenade from the water.

Mr. and Mrs. Holiday watched the mountains. The sun had now just gone down, though his beams still tipped the summits of the hills, and were reflected from the windows of the distant houses. The snow on the mountains, too, began to assume a very beautiful rosy hue, which increased in brilliancy the farther the sun went down, and the more the lower lands became darkened.

"How beautiful it is!" said Mrs. Holiday.

"It is very beautiful indeed," said her husband.

"Rollo," said Mrs. Holiday, "look at Mont Blanc. See how bright and rosy he looks."

"Yes, mother," said Rollo; "and look out on the lake, and see the heads of those two boys swimming in the water."

"Are those the heads of boys?" asked Mrs. Holiday.

"Yes, mother," said Rollo; "see how far they are swimming out."

When Mrs. Holiday looked back at the mountain, she found, to her great disappointment, that the rosy color which had appeared so beautiful a moment before had now disappeared; and the whole snowy side of the range, up to the summits of the loftiest peaks, was of a cold, dead white, as if the rays of the sun had been entirely withdrawn.

"Ah! look!" she said to Mr. Holiday, in a tone of disappointment; "Mont Blanc has gone out while we have been looking another way."

Mr. Holiday gazed intently at the mountain, and very soon he saw the rosy tint beginning to appear again on one of the summits, more brilliant than ever.

"No," said he, "the sun has not gone. I thought it could not have gone down so soon. There must have been a cloud in the way."

While Mr. Holiday had been speaking, the rekindling of the mountain had gone on apace, and now the whole side of it was all in a glow.

Just at this instant Rollo heard the sound of a gun. Lucia started and looked alarmed.

"What is that gun?" said Rollo; "and where was it? Let us look for the smoke."

So Rollo and Lucia, leaning over the parapet, began to look all about among the boats and vessels of the lake, and along the opposite shore, in the direction from which the sound of the report had seemed to come, and very soon their eyes rested upon a volume of blue smoke which was ascending from the bows of a little vessel that had just come in, and was floating off gracefully into the air.

"It is that vessel that has just got in," said Rollo.

"Rollo," said Mrs. Holiday, "look at the mountain."

Rollo turned his eye for a moment towards the mountain. All the lower part of it was of a cold and deathlike whiteness, while the tip of the summit was glowing as if it had been on fire. He was, however, too much interested in the smoke of the gun to look long at the mountain.

"Hark!" said he to Lucia; "let us see if they will not fire again."

They did not fire again; and just as Rollo began to give up expecting that they would, his attention, as well as that of Lucia, was attracted to a little child who was playing with a small hammer in the gravel not far from where they were standing. The mother of the child was sitting on a bench near by, knitting. The hammer was small, and the claw of it was straight and flat. The child was using it for a hoe, to dig a hole in the gravel.

"Now," said Rollo, "if I could find a shingle any where about here, I would make that child a shovel to dig with."

Rollo looked about, but there was nothing like a shingle to be seen.

In a few minutes his father called him.

"Rollo," said he, "we are going back. Mont Blanc has gone out. See!"

Rollo looked. He saw that the last lingering rays of the sun had gone from the summit of the mountain, though they still gilded a small rounded cloud that floated just above it in the sky.

"Yes, sir," said Rollo. "I'll go and call the boat."

"We are not going back in the boat," said Mr. Holiday; "we have concluded to walk round by land, and over the bridge. It will be better for Lucia to go with us; but you may do as you please. You may walk with us, or go in the boat with the boatman."

Rollo at first thought that he should prefer to go in the boat; but he finally concluded to accompany his father and mother. So the whole party returned together by a pleasant road which led through a village by the shore.

When they came out to the quay they heard a band of music playing. The band was stationed on the little islet which has already been described. The party stopped on the bridge to listen; at least Mr. and Mrs. Holiday listened, but Rollo and Lucia occupied themselves the while in looking down in the clear depths of the water, which was running so swiftly and so blue beneath the piers of the bridge, and watching to see if they could see any fishes there. Lucia thought at one time that she saw one; but Rollo, on examining the spot, said it was only a little crevice of the rock wiggling.

"What makes it wiggle?" asked Lucia.

"The little waves and ripples of the current," said Rollo.

* * * * *

When Rollo reached the hotel, a gentleman who met the party in the hall said to him,—

"Well, Rollo, have you been to see Mont Blanc go out?"

"Yes, sir," said Rollo.

"And how did you like it?" said the gentleman.

"I liked it very much indeed," said Rollo. "I think it was sublime."



CHAPTER IX.

A LAW QUESTION.

"Now, father," said Rollo, one evening, as he was sitting at the window with his father and mother, looking out upon the blue waters of the Rhone, that were shooting so swiftly under the bridges beneath the windows of the hotel, "you promised me that you would take as long a sail on the lake with me as I wished."

"Well," said his father, "I acknowledge the promise, and am ready to perform it."

"When?" asked Rollo.

"At any time," said his father.

"Then, father, let us go to-morrow," said Rollo. "We can't go to-night, for I am going so far that it will take all day. I am going to the farther end of the lake."

"Very well," said his father; "I said I would take as long a sail as you wished."

"And I will go this evening and engage a sail boat," said Rollo, "so as to have it all ready."

There was always quite a little fleet of sail boats and row boats of all kinds lying near the principal landing at the quay, ready for excursions. Rollo's plan was to engage one of these.

"No," said his father; "we will not take a sail boat; we will take a steamboat."

Besides the sail boats and row boats, there were a number of large and handsome steamboats plying on the lake. There were two or three that left in the morning, between seven and eight o'clock, and then there were one or two at noon also. Those that left in the morning had time to go to the farther end of the lake and return the same day; while those that left at noon came back the next morning. Thus, to see the lake, you could go in the forenoon of one day, and come back in the afternoon of the same, or you could go in the afternoon of one day, and come back in the morning of the next.

"Which would you do?" said Mr. Holiday to Rollo.

"But, father," said Rollo, "I think it would be pleasanter to go in a sail boat. Besides, you said that you would take me to a sail; and going in a steamboat is not sailing."

"What is it doing?" said Mr. Holiday.

"Steaming," said Rollo. "A steamer does not sail in any sense."

Mr. Holiday smiled and then paused. He was reflecting, apparently, upon what Rollo had been saying.

"Then, besides," said Rollo, "don't you think, father, it would be pleasanter to go in a sail boat?"

"The first question is," said Mr. Holiday, "whether I am bound by my promise to go with you in a sail boat, if you prefer it. I said I would take you to a sail. Would taking you in a steamboat be a fulfilment of that promise? Suppose we refer the question to an umpire, and see how he will decide it."

"Yes; but, father," said Rollo, "if you think it is best to go in the steamer, I should not insist upon the sail boat, by any means; so it is not necessary to leave it to any umpire. I will give it up."

"I know you would be willing to give it up," said Mr. Holiday; "but then we may as well first ascertain how the case actually stands. Let us first determine what the promise binds me to. If it does not bind me to go in a sail boat, then it is all right; there will be no need of any giving up. If, on the other hand, my promise does bind me to go in a sail boat, then you will consider whether you will release me from it or not, if I ask it. Besides, it will amuse us to have the question regularly decided; and it will also be a good lesson for you, in teaching you to think and speak with precision when you make promises, and to draw exact lines in respect to the performance of them."

"Well, sir," said Rollo; "who shall be the umpire?"

"Mr. Hall," said his father. "He is down in the dining room now, taking tea."

Mr. Hall was a lawyer, an acquaintance of Mr. Holiday's, whom he had accidentally met at Geneva.

"He is a lawyer," said Mr. Holiday, "and he will be a very good umpire."

"Is it a law question?" asked Rollo.

"Not exactly a law question," said Mr. Holiday, "but all such questions require for an umpire a man who is accustomed to think precisely. That is their very business. It is true that there are a great many other men besides lawyers who think precisely; and there are some lawyers who think and reason very loosely, and come to hasty and incorrect conclusions. Still, you are more likely to get a good opinion on such a subject from a lawyer than from other men taken at random. So, if you please, you may go down and state the question to Mr. Hall, and I will abide by his decision."

"Well, sir," said Rollo, "I will."

"Only," said Mr. Holiday, "you must state the question fairly. Boys generally, when they go to state a question of this kind in which they are interested, state it very unfairly."

"How, for instance?" asked Rollo.

"Why, suppose," said Mr. Holiday, "that you were to go to Mr. Hall, and say, 'Mr. Hall, father promised me that he would take me out on a sail upon the lake, as far as I wanted to go, and don't you think he ought to do it?'"

Rollo laughed heartily at this mode of putting the question. "Yes," said he, "that sounds exactly like a boy. And what would be a fair way of stating it?"

"A fair way would be," said Mr. Holiday, "to present the simple question itself, without any reference to your own interest in it, and without any indication whatever of your own wish or opinion in respect to the decision of it; as, for example, thus: 'Mr. Hall, I have a question to ask you. Suppose one person promises another that he will take him out to sail on the lake on a certain day; then, when the day comes, the promiser proposes to go in the steamboat. Would that be a good fulfilment of the promise, or not?'"

"Well, sir," said Rollo, "I will state it so."

So Rollo went down stairs into the dining room. There were various parties there, seated at the different tables. Some were taking tea, some were looking at maps and guide books, and some discussing the plan of their tours. One of the sofas had half a dozen knapsacks upon it, which belonged to a party of pedestrians that had just come in.

Rollo looked about the room, and presently saw Mr. Hall, with his wife and daughter, sitting at a table near a window. He went to him, and stated the question.

The lawyer heard Rollo attentively to the end, and then, instead of answering at once, O, yes, or O, no, as Rollo had expected, he seemed to stop to consider.

"That is quite a nice question," said Mr. Hall. "Let us look at it. The point is, whether an excursion in a steamboat is a sail, in the sense intended by the promise."

"Yes, sir," said Rollo; "that is the point exactly. I think it is not; father thinks it is."

The instant that these words were out of Rollo's mouth he was sorry that he had spoken them; for by speaking them he had furnished an indication to the umpire of what his own opinion and his own interests were in respect to the decision, which it never is fair to do in such a case, when the other party is not present to express his views and advocate his interests. The words once spoken, however, could not be recalled.

"Steamboats are certainly not propelled by sails," said the lawyer, "but yet we often apply the word sailing to them. We say, for instance, that a certain steamer will sail on such or such a day. So we say, There was no news from such or such a place when the steamer sailed."

"But it seems to me," said Rollo, "that the question is not what people call it, but what it really is. The going of a steamboat is certainly not sailing, in any sense."

It was quite ingenious arguing on Rollo's part, it must be acknowledged; but then it was wholly out of order for him to argue the question at all. He should have confined himself strictly to a simple statement of the point, since, as his father was not present to defend his side of the question, it was obviously not fair that Rollo should urge and advocate his.

"It might, at first view," said Mr. Hall, "seem to be as you say, and that the question would be solely what the steamer actually does. But, on reflection, you will see that it is not exactly so. Contracts and promises are made in language; and in making them, people use language as other people use it, and it is to be interpreted in that way. For instance: suppose a lodging-house keeper in the country should agree to furnish a lady a room in the summer where the sun did not come in at all, and then should give her one on the south side of the house, which was intolerably hot, and should claim that he had fulfilled his agreement because the sun did not itself come into the room at all, but only shone in; that would not be a good defence. We must interpret contracts and promises according to the ordinary use and custom of people in the employment of language.

"Still," said Mr. Hall, "although we certainly do apply the simple term sailing to a steamer, I hardly think that a trip in a steamer on a regular and established route would be called, according to the ordinary and established use of language, taking a sail. Was that the promise—that one party would go with the other to take a sail on the lake?"

"Yes, sir," said Rollo; "he promised to go and take a sail with me on the lake, as far as I wanted to go."

"Then," said Mr. Hall, "I should think, on the whole, that, in such a place as this, where there are so many regular sail boats, and where excursions on the lake in them are so common and so well recognized as a distinct amusement, the phrase taking a sail ought to be held to mean going in a sail boat, and that making a voyage in a steamer would not be fulfilling the promise."

Rollo was extremely delighted in having thus gained his case, and he went back to report the result to his father, in a state of great exultation.

After communicating to his father the decision of the umpire, Rollo said that, after all, he did not wish to go in a sail boat if his father thought it best to go in a steamer.

"Well," said Mr. Holiday, "that depends upon how far we go. It is pleasant enough to go out a short distance on the water in a sail boat, but for a long excursion the steamer is generally considered much pleasanter. In a sail boat you are down very low, near the surface of the water, and so you have no commanding views. Then you have no shelter either from the sun, if it is clear, or from the rain, if it is cloudy. You are closely confined, too, or at least you can move about only a very little; whereas in the steamer there is plenty of space, and there are a great many groups of people, and little incidents are constantly occurring to amuse you."

"Besides," said Mrs. Holiday, "if you go in the steamer, I can go with you."

"Why, mother, could not you go in a sail boat too?"

"No," said Mrs. Holiday; "I am afraid of sail boats."

"O mother!" said Rollo; "there is not any danger at all."

"Yes, Rollo," said his father, "there is some danger, for sail boats do sometimes upset."

"And steamboats sometimes blow up," said Rollo.

"True," said his father; "but that only shows that there is danger in steamboats too—not that there is no danger in sail boats."

"Well, what I mean," said Rollo, "is, that there is very little danger, and that mother has no occasion to be afraid."

"There is very little danger, I grant," said Mr. Holiday; "but there is just enough to keep ladies, who are less accustomed to the water than we are, almost all the time uneasy, and thus to destroy for them the pleasure of the excursion.

"I'll tell you what I think will be the best plan. You and I will go out and take a little sail to-night on the lake in a sail boat, and mother may stay and watch us from the window, as she reads and sews. Then to-morrow we will go together to make an excursion on the lake."

Rollo liked this plan very much indeed, and his father sent him down to the landing to engage the boat. "I will come down," said Mr. Holiday, "by the time you get ready."

So Rollo went down and engaged a boat. It was rigged, as all the boats on the Lake of Geneva are, with what are called lateen sails. His father soon came down, and they immediately embarked on board the boat, and sailed away from the landing. As the boat moved away Rollo waved his handkerchief to his mother whom he saw sitting on the balcony of the hotel, waving hers to him.



Rollo and his father sailed about the lake for nearly an hour. Mr. Holiday said it was one of the pleasantest sails he ever had in his life, and that he was very glad indeed that Mr. Hall decided against him.

He gave Rollo's mother a full account of the excursion when he got home.

"The water was very smooth," said he, "and the air was cool and balmy. There was a gentle breath of wind, just enough to float us smoothly and quietly over the water. We had charming views of the town and of the shores of the lake, and also of the stupendous ranges of snow-covered mountains beyond."



CHAPTER X.

AN EXCURSION ON THE LAKE.

The Lake of Geneva is shaped, as has already been said, like the new moon. One of the horns is towards the west; the other is towards the south. Geneva is at the tip of the western horn.

Of course, in sailing from Geneva to the other end of the lake, we go from the west towards the east; and this renders it rather more agreeable to make the excursion by an afternoon boat than by a morning one; for in the afternoon, the sun, being then in the western part of the sky, will be behind you, and so will not shine in your face; but, instead of shining in your face and dazzling your eyes, it will be shining upon and illuminating brilliantly the slopes of the mountains that you are going to see. In other words, in the morning the mountains are in shadow and the sun in your eyes; in the evening your eyes are shaded, and the mountains glow with brilliancy and beauty.

It is often very important to take notice thus of the manner in which the sun shines in different parts of the day, in planning excursions among the Alps.

The middle of the day is a very exciting and animating time on the quay at Geneva. It is then that the boats which left the other end of the lake in the morning are expected to arrive; and a great concourse of porters, guides, postilions, and bystanders of all sorts assemble to receive the travellers. As the boats come in, it is very amusing to sit on the balconies, or at the windows of the hotels which overlook the quay, and watch the procession of tourists as they come over the plank to land. There are family groups consisting of fathers, mothers, and children, followed by porters bearing immense trunks, while they themselves are loaded with shawls, cloaks, umbrellas, and carpet bags; and parties of students, with all their travelling effects in knapsacks on their backs; and schoolboys who have been making a tour of the Alps with their teacher; and young brides, almost equally proud of their husbands, of the new dignity of their own position, and of the grandeur of an Alpine bridal tour. All these people, and the hundreds of spectators that assemble to see them, fill the quay, and form a very animated and exciting spectacle.

When the time approaches for a boat to sail, which is in half an hour after she arrives, we have a counterpart of this scene, the direction of the current only being reversed. The tourists now go to the boat, the porters, with their baggage, preceding them. A soldier stands at the entrance to the plank, to look at the passports. Lines of officials on each side guard the way. On the deck of the steamer, as soon as you get on board, you find a great variety of picturesque looking groups, all, however, having the air of being travellers for pleasure. Some are arranging themselves in good seats for seeing the scenery. Others take out their maps and guide books, and prepare to read the descriptions of the places that they are going to see. Here and there children are to be seen—the boys with little knapsacks, and the girls wearing very broad-brimmed Swiss hats—neither paying any attention to the scenery, but amusing themselves with whatever they find at hand to play with—one with a little dog, another with a doll which has been bought for her at Geneva, and a third, perhaps, with a whip, or a little wagon.

Rollo took his seat by the side of his father and mother, in the midst of such a scene as this, on the day of their embarkation, and occupied himself sometimes by looking at the shores of the lake and the mountains beyond, and sometimes by watching the movements and actions of the various groups of tourists before him. In the mean time, the boat left the landing, and began to glide along rapidly on her way over the surface of the water.

The shores of the lake are very fertile and populous, and at every eight or ten miles, especially on the northern shore, you come to a large town. The steamboats stop at these towns to take and leave passengers. They do not, in such cases, usually land at a pier, but the passengers come and go in large boats, and meet the steamer at a little way from the shore. Rollo used to take great pleasure in going forward to the bows of the steamer, and watch these boats as they came out from the shore. If there were two of them, they would come out so far that the track of the steamer should lie between them, and then, when the steamer stopped her paddles, they would come up, one on one side and the other on the other, and the passengers would come up on board by means of a flight of steps let down from the steamer, just abaft the paddle boxes. When the passengers had thus come up, the baggage would be passed up too; and then those passengers who wished to go ashore at that place would go down the steps in the boats, and when all were embarked, the boats would cast off from the steamer, and the steamer would go on her way as before. The boats then would row slowly to the land, with the passengers in them that were to stop at that place.

The way of paying for one's passage on board these boats was very different from that adopted in America. There was no colored waiter to go about the decks and saloons ringing a bell, and calling out, in a loud and authoritative voice, Passengers who haven't settled their fare will please call at the captain's office and settle. Instead of this, the clerk of the boat came himself, after each landing, to the new passengers that had come on board at that landing, and, touching his hat to them, in the most polite manner, asked them to what place they wished to go. He had a little slate in his hand, with the names of all the towns where the steamer was to touch marked upon it. As the several passengers to whom he applied gave him the name of the place of their destination, he made a mark opposite to the name of the place on his slate. When he had in this way applied to all the new comers, he went to the office and provided himself with the proper number of tickets for each place, and then went round again to distribute them. In going around thus a second time, to distribute the tickets, he took a cash box with him to make change. This cash box was slung before him by means of a strap about the neck.

"How much more polite and agreeable a mode this is of collecting the fares," said Mrs. Holiday to her husband, "than ours in America! There a boy comes around, dinging a bell in every body's ears, and then the gentlemen have to go in a crowd and elbow their way up to the window of the captain's office. I wish we could have some of these polite and agreeable customs introduced into our country."

"They are very agreeable," said Mr. Holiday, "and are very suitable for pleasure travel like this, where the boats are small, and the number of passengers few; but I presume it would be very difficult to collect the fares in this way on a North River steamer, where there are sometimes a thousand passengers on board. Here there are usually not more than eight or ten passengers that come on board at a time, and they mix with only fifty or sixty that were on board before. But in America we often have fifty or sixty come on board at a time, and they mix with eight hundred or a thousand. In such a case as that I think that this plan would be well nigh impracticable."

"I did not think of that," said Mrs. Holiday.

"The difference between the circumstances of the case in Europe and in America is very often not thought of by travellers who find themselves wishing that the European customs in respect to travelling and the hotels could be introduced into our country. In Europe the number of travellers is comparatively small, and a very large proportion of those who make journeys go for pleasure. The arrangements can all, consequently, be made to save them trouble, and to make the journey agreeable to them; and the price is increased accordingly. In America, people travel on business, and they go in immense numbers. Their main object is, to be taken safely and expeditiously to the end of their journey, and at as little expense as possible. The arrangements of the conveyances and of the hotels are all made accordingly. The consequence is, a vast difference in the expense of travelling, and a corresponding difference, of course, to some extent, in ease and comfort. The price of passage, for instance, in the Geneva steamboats, from one end of the lake to the other, a distance of about fifty miles, is two dollars, without berth or meals; whereas you can go from New York to Albany, which is more than three times as far, for half a dollar. This difference is owing to the number of travellers that go in the American boats, and the wholesale character, so to speak, of the arrangements made for them.

"In other words, the passengers in a public conveyance in Europe are not only conveyed from place to place, but they are waited upon by the way, and they have to pay both for the conveyance and the attendance. In America they are only conveyed, and are left to wait upon themselves; and they are charged accordingly. Each plan is good, and each is adapted to the wants and ideas of the countries that respectively adopt them.

"Shall we go to the end of the lake to-day?" said Mr. Holiday, "or only part of the way? The clerk will come pretty soon to ask us."

"Are there any pretty places to stop at on the way?" asked Mrs. Holiday.

"Yes," said her husband; "all the places are pretty."

"Tell us about some of them," said Rollo.

"First there is Lausanne," said his father. "Lausanne is a large town up among the hills, a mile or two from the water. There is a little port, called Ouchy, on the shore, where the steamer stops. There there is a landing and a pier, and some pretty boarding houses, with gardens and grounds around them, and a large, old-fashioned inn, built like a castle of the middle ages, but kept very nicely. We can stop there, and go up in an omnibus to Lausanne, which is a large, old town, two miles up the side of the mountain.

"Then, secondly," continued Mr. Holiday, "there is Vevay, which is famous for a new and fashionable hotel facing the lake, with a beautiful terrace between it and the water, where you can sit on nice benches under the trees, and watch the steamers going by over the blue waters of the lake, or the row boats and sail boats coming and going about the terrace landing, or the fleecy clouds floating along the sides of the dark mountains around the head of the lake."

"I should like to stop at both places," said Mrs. Holiday.

"Then we will stop at Ouchy to-night," said Mr. Holiday, "for that comes first."

So it was decided that they should take tickets for Ouchy.

The boat at Ouchy did not land passengers by boats, but went up to the pier. Only a few passengers went ashore. The pier was at some little distance from the hotel, the way to it being by a quiet and pleasant walk along the shore.

There was an omnibus marked Lausanne standing at the head of the pier.

"Now, we can get into the omnibus," said Mr. Holiday, "and go directly up to Lausanne, or we can go to the hotel here, and take lodgings, and then go up to Lausanne to see the town after dinner."

It was at this time about four o'clock. The usual time of dinner for travellers in Switzerland is five.

Mrs. Holiday, observing that the hotel at Ouchy was very prettily situated, close to the water, and recollecting that her husband had said that it resembled in its character a castle of the middle ages, concluded that she would like as well to take rooms there.

A woman with a queer-shaped basket on her back, which she carried by means of straps over her shoulders, here came up to Mr. Holiday, and asked if she should take the baggages to the inn. Mr. Holiday said yes. So she put the valise and the carpet bag into her basket, and walked away with them to the inn.

Women often act as porters in France and Switzerland, and they perform, also, all sorts of out-door work. They use these baskets, too, very often, for carrying burdens. Rollo afterwards saw a woman take her child out to ride in one of them.

Mrs. Holiday was extremely pleased with the inn at Ouchy. She said that she should like to remain there a week. It seemed precisely, with its antique-looking rooms, and long stone paved corridors, like the castles which she had read about when she was a girl in the old romances.

After dinner, Mr. Holiday sent for a carriage, and took Mrs. Holiday and Rollo to ride. They went up the ascent of land behind the town, the road winding as it went among green and beautiful glades and dells, but still always ascending until they came to Lausanne. This was nearly two miles from the lake, and very much above it. From Lausanne they went back still farther, ascending all the time, and obtaining more and more commanding views of the lake at every turn.

When the sun went down, they turned their faces homeward. They came down, of course, very fast, the road winding continually this way and that, to make the descent more gradual. At length, about half past eight, they returned to the inn.

The landlady of the inn, who was very kind and obliging to them, took them to see a room in her hotel where Lord Byron wrote his celebrated poem entitled the PRISONER OF CHILLON. Chillon is an ancient castle which stands on the shore, twenty or thirty miles beyond, and very near, in fact, to the extremity of the lake. Byron has made this castle renowned throughout the world by spending a few days, while he was stopped at this inn at Ouchy by a storm, when travelling on the lake, in writing a poem in which he describes the emotions and sufferings of some imaginary prisoners whom he supposed to be confined there.

"Can we go to see the Castle of Chillon?" said Mrs. Holiday.

"Yes," said Mr. Holiday. "We shall sail directly by it in going to the head of the lake, and if we stop there we can go to it very easily."

The head of the lake—that is, the eastern end of it—is surrounded with mountains, the slopes of which seem to rise very abruptly from the water, and ascend to such a height that patches of snow lie on the summits of them all the summer. These mountains, especially if overshadowed by clouds, give a very dark and sombre expression to the whole region when seen from a distance, in coming in from the centre of the lake. This sombre expression, however, entirely disappears when you arrive at the head of the lake, and land there.

You would not suppose, when viewing these shores from a distance, that there was any place to land, so closely do the precipitous slopes of the mountains seem to shut the water in. But on drawing near the shore, you see that there is a pretty broad belt of land along the shore, which, though it ascends rapidly, is not too steep to be cultivated. This belt of land is covered with villages, hamlets, vineyards, orchards, and gardens, and it forms a most enchanting series of landscapes, from whatever point it is seen, while the more precipitous slopes of the mountains, towering above in grandeur and sublimity, complete the enchantment of the view.

The Castle of Chillon stands on the very margin of the lake, just in the edge of the water. Indeed, the foundations on which it stands form a little island, which is separated by a narrow channel from the shore. This channel is crossed by a drawbridge. It is possible, however, that it may be in some measure artificial. The island may have originally been a small rocky point, and it may have been made an island by the cutting of a ditch between it and the main land.

The steamer passed along the shore, very near to this castle, in going to the head of the lake, as you see represented in the engraving.[F] There is no steamboat landing at the castle itself, but there is one at the village of Montreux, a little before you come to it, and another at Villeneuve, a little beyond. Numbers of tourists come in every steamer to visit the castle, and stop for this purpose at one of these landings or the other. The distance is only twenty minutes' brisk walking from either of them.

[Footnote F: See Frontispiece.]

Villeneuve, the last landing mentioned above, is at the very extremity of the lake. We see it in the distance in the engraving. Here travellers who are going to continue their journey up the valley of the Rhone, either for the purpose of penetrating into the heart of Switzerland, or of going by the pass of the Simplon into Italy, leave the boat and take the diligence to continue their journey by land, or else engage a private carriage, and also a guide, if they wish for one. Mr. Holiday did not intend at this time to go on far up the valley, but he purposed to stop a day or two at Villeneuve, to visit Chillon, and perhaps make some other excursions, and also to enjoy the views presented there, on all sides, of the slopes and summits of the surrounding mountains.



CHAPTER XI.

VILLENEUVE.

At Villeneuve, a pretty long, though small and very neatly made pier projects out from the shore, for the landing of passengers from the steamer.

Exactly opposite this pier, and facing the water, stands the inn. It is placed very nearly on a level with the water. This can always be the case with buildings standing on the margin of a lake, for a lake not being subject to tides or inundations, all buildings, whether houses, bridges, or piers, may be built very near the water, without any danger of being overflowed.

Before the inn is an open space, extending between it and the shore; so that from the front windows of the inn you can look down first upon this open space, and beyond, upon the margin of the lake and upon the pier, with the steamer lying at the landing-place at the head of it.

The sides of this square, Rollo observed, were formed of the ends of two buildings which stood on the shore, and along this space were wooden benches, which were filled, when the steamer arrived, with guides, postilions, voituriers, and other people of that class, waiting to be engaged by the travellers that should come in her.

There were also two or three omnibuses and diligences waiting to receive such persons as were intending to travel by the public conveyances. One of these omnibuses belonged to a large hotel and boarding house which stands on the shore of the lake, not far from Villeneuve, between it and the Castle of Chillon. You can see this hotel in the engraving. It is the large building in the middle distance, standing back a little from the lake, and to the left of the castle. This hotel is beautifully situated in a commanding position on the shores of the lake, and is a great place of resort for English families in the summer season.

The travellers that landed from the steamer at Villeneuve soon separated, after arriving at the open square before the inn. Some took their seats in the diligences that were standing there; some got into the omnibuses to go to the hotel; some engaged voituriers from among the number that were waiting there to be so employed, and, entering the carriages, they drove away; while a party of students, with knapsacks on their backs and pikestaves in their hands, set off on foot up the valley. Mr. Holiday and his party, not intending to proceed any farther that night, went directly to the inn.

They went first into the dining room. The dining room in the Swiss inns is usually the only public room, and travellers on entering the inn generally go directly there.

The dining room was very plain and simple in all its arrangements. There was no carpet on the floor, and the woodwork was unpainted. There were two windows in front, which looked out upon the lake. Directly beneath the windows was the road, and the open space, already described, between the hotel and the pier.

There was a boy with a knapsack on his back standing by the window, looking out. Rollo went to the window, and began to look out too.

"Do you speak English?" said Rollo to the boy.

"Nein," said the boy, shaking his head.

Nein is the German word for no. This Rollo knew very well, and so he inferred that the boy was a German. He, however, thought it possible that he might speak French, and so he asked again,—

"Do you speak French?"

"Very little," said the boy, answering now in the French language. "I am studying it at school. I am at school at Berne, and my class is making an excursion to Geneva."

"Do you travel on foot?" asked Rollo.

"Yes," said the boy; "unless there is a steamboat, and then we go in the steamboat."

"And I suppose you are going to take the steamboat here to-morrow morning to go to Geneva."

"No," said the boy; "we are going to see Chillon to-night, and then we are going along the shore of the lake beyond, to Montreux, and take the boat there to-morrow morning."

It was quite amusing to Rollo to talk thus with a strange boy in a language which both had learned at school, and which neither of them could speak well, but which was, nevertheless, the only language they had in common.

"How many boys are there in your class?" asked Rollo.

"Sixteen," said the boy; "sixteen—six." The boy then held up the five fingers of one hand, and one of the other, to show to Rollo that six was the number he meant. The words six and sixteen are very similar in the French language, and for a moment the boy confounded them.

"And the teacher too, I suppose," said Rollo.

"Yes," said the boy, "and the teacher."

Here there was a short pause.

"Are you going to Chillon?" said the boy to Rollo.

"Yes," said Rollo. "I am going with my father and mother."

"I wish you were going with us," said the boy.

"I wish so too," said Rollo; "I mean to ask my father to let me."

During this time Mr. Holiday had been making an arrangement with the maid of the inn for two bedrooms, one for himself and his wife, and the other for Rollo; and the maid was now just going to show the party the way to their rooms. So Rollo went with his father, and after seeing that all their effects were put in the rooms, he informed his father that he had made acquaintance with a young German schoolboy who was going with his class and the teacher to visit Chillon; and he asked his father's consent that he might go with them.

"I can walk there with them," said Rollo, "and wait there till you and mother come."

"Does the boy speak English?" asked Mr. Holiday.

"No, sir," said Rollo; "but he can speak French a little. He speaks it just about as well as I can, and we can get along together very well."

"Is the teacher willing that you should go?" asked Mr. Holiday.

"I don't know," said Rollo; "we have not asked him yet."

"Then the first thing is to ask him," said Mr. Holiday. "Let your friend ask the teacher if he is willing to have another boy invited to go with his party; and if he is willing, you may go. If you get to Chillon first, you may go about the castle with the boys, and then wait at the castle gates till we come."

"How soon shall you come?" asked Rollo.

"Very soon," said Mr. Holiday. "I have ordered the carriage already, and we shall perhaps get there as soon as you do."

So Rollo went down stairs again to his friend, the German boy.

"Do you think," said Rollo, "that the teacher would be willing to have me go with you?"

"Yes," said the boy, "I am sure he will. He is always very glad to have us meet with an opportunity to speak French. Besides, there are some boys in the school who are learning English, and he would like to have you talk a little with them."

"Go and ask him," said Rollo.

So the boy went off to ask the teacher. He met him on the stairs, coming down with the rest of the boys. The teacher was very much pleased with the plan of having an American boy invited to join the party, and so it was settled that Rollo was to go.

The boys all went down stairs, and rendezvoused at the door of the inn. Most of the omnibuses and diligences had gone. The boys of the school all accosted Rollo in a very cordial manner; and the teacher shook hands with him, and said that he was very glad to have him join their party. The teacher spoke to him in French. There were two other boys who tried to speak to him in English. They succeeded pretty well, but they could not speak very fluently, and they made several mistakes. But Rollo was very careful not to laugh at their mistakes, and they did not laugh at those which he made in talking French; and so they all got along very well together.

Thus they set out on the road which led along the shore of the lake towards the Castle of Chillon.



CHAPTER XII.

THE CASTLE OF CHILLON.

The party of boys walked along the road very pleasantly together, each one with his knapsack on his back and his pikestaff in his hand. Rollo talked with them by the way—with some in English, and with others in French; but inasmuch as it happened that whichever language was used, one or the other of the parties to the conversation was very imperfectly acquainted with it, the conversation was necessarily carried on by means of very short and simple sentences, and the meaning was often helped out by signs, and gestures, and curious pantomime of all sorts, with an accompaniment, of course, of continual peals of laughter.

Rollo, however, learned a good deal about the boys, and about the arrangements they made for travelling, and also learned a great many particulars in respect to the adventures they had met with in coming over the mountains.

Rollo learned, for example, that every boy had a fishing line in his knapsack, and that when they got tired of walking, and wished to stop to rest, if there was a good place, they stopped and fished a little while in a mountain stream or a lake.

Another thing they did was to watch for butterflies, in order to catch any new species that they might find, to add to the teacher's cabinet of natural history. For this purpose one of the boys had a gauze net on the end of a long but light handle; and when a butterfly came in sight that seemed at all curious or new, one of the boys set off with the rest to catch him. If the specimen was found valuable, it was preserved. The specimens thus kept were secured with a pin in the bottom of a broad, but flat and very light box, which one of the older boys carried with his knapsack. The boy opened this box, and showed Rollo the butterflies which they had taken. They had quite a pretty collection. There were several that Rollo did not recollect ever to have seen before.

Talking in this way, they went on till they came to the part of the road which was opposite to the Hotel Byron. The hotel was on an eminence above the road, and back from the lake. Broad gravelled avenues led up to it. There were also winding walks, and seats under the trees, and terraces, and gardens, and parties of ladies and gentlemen walking about, and children playing here and there, under the charge of their nurses.

The boys gave only a passing glance at these things as they went by. They were much more interested in gazing up from time to time at the stupendous cliffs and precipices which they saw crowning the mountain ranges which seemed to border the road; and on the other side, in looking out far over the water of the lake at the sail boats, or the steamer, or the little row boats which they beheld in the offing.

The road went winding on, following the little indentations of the shore, till at length it reached the castle. It passed close under the castle walls, or, rather, close along the margin of the ditch which separated the foundations of the castle from the main land. There was a bridge across this ditch. This bridge was enclosed, and a little room was built upon it, with windows and a door. The outer door was, of course, towards the road, and it was open when the boys arrived at the place.

The teacher led the way in by this door, and the boys followed him. There was a man there, dressed in the uniform of a soldier. He was a sort of sentinel, to keep the door of the castle. He had a table on one side, with various engravings spread out upon it, representing different views of the castle, both of the interior and of the exterior. There were also little books of description, giving an account of the castle and of its history, and copies of Byron's poem, the Prisoner of Chillon. All these things were for sale to the visitors who should come to see the castle.

The engravings were kept from being blown away by the wind by means of little stone paper weights made of rounded pebble stones, about as large as the palm of the hand, with views of the castle and of the surrounding scenery painted on them. The paper weights were for sale too.

The boys looked at these things a moment, but did not seem to pay much attention to them. They walked on, following their teacher, to the end of the bridge room, where they came to the great castle gates. These were open, too, and they went in. They found themselves in a paved courtyard, with towers, and battlements, and lofty walls all around them. There was a man there, waiting to receive them in charge, and show them into the dungeons.

He led the way through a door, and thence down a flight of stone steps to a series of subterranean chambers, which were very dimly lighted by little windows opening towards the lake. The back sides of the rooms consisted of the living rock; the front sides were formed of the castle wall that bordered the lake.

"Here is the room," said the guide, "where the prisoners who were condemned to death in the castle in former times spent the last night before their execution. That stone was the bed where they had to lie."

So saying, the guide pointed to a broad, smooth, and sloping surface of rock, which was formed by the ledge on the back side of the dungeon. The stone was part of the solid ledge, and was surrounded with ragged crags, just as they had been left by the excavators in making the dungeon; but whether the smooth and sloping surface of this particular portion of the rock was natural or artificial, that is, whether it had been expressly made so to form a bed for the poor condemned criminal, or whether the rock had accidentally broken into that form by means of some natural fissure, and so had been appropriated by the governor of the castle to that use, the boys could not determine.

The guide led the boys a little farther on, to a place where there was a dark recess, and pointing up towards the ceiling, he said,—

"There is where the criminals were hung. Up where I point there is a beam built into the rock; and from that the rope was suspended."

The boys all crowded round the spot, and looked eagerly up, but they could not see any beam.

"You cannot see it," said the guide, "now, because you have just come out from the light of day. We shall come back this way pretty soon, and then you will be able to see it; for your eyes will then get accustomed a little to the darkness of the dungeon."

So the guide went on, and the boys followed him.

They next came into a very large apartment. The front side and the back side of it were both curved. The back side consisted of the living rock. The front side was formed of the outer castle wall, which was built on the rock at the very margin of the water. In the centre was a range of seven massive stone columns, placed there to support the arches on which rested the floor of the principal story of the castle above. The roof of this dungeon of course was vaulted, the arches and groins being carried over from this range of central pillars towards the wall in front, and towards the solid rock behind. All this you will plainly see represented in the engraving.



This great dungeon was lighted by means of very small loopholes cut in the wall, high up from the floor. The light from these windows, instead of coming down, and shining upon the floor, seemed to go up, and to lose itself in a faint attempt to illuminate the vaulted roof above. The reason was, that at the particular hour when the boys made their visit, the beams of the sun which shone directly from it in the sky were excluded, and only those that were reflected upward from the waters of the lake could come in.

The guide led the boys to one of the central pillars, and pointed to an iron ring which was built into the stone. He told them that there was the place where one prisoner was confined in the dungeon for six years. He was chained to that ring by a short chain, which enabled him only to walk to and fro a few steps each way about the pillar. These steps had worn a place in the rock.

After the boys had looked at this pillar, and at the iron ring, and at the place worn in the floor by the footsteps of the prisoner, as long as they wished, they followed the guide on to the end of the dungeon, where they were stopped by the solid rock. Here the guide brought them to a dark and gloomy place in a corner, where, by standing a little back, they could see all the pillars in a row; and he said that if they would count them they would find that there were exactly seven. The boys did so, and they found that there were seven; but they did not understand why the number was of any importance. But the teacher explained it to them. He said that Byron had mentioned seven as the number of the pillars in his poem, and that most people who had read the poem were pleased to observe the correspondence between his description and the reality.

The teacher quoted the lines. They were these:—

"In Chillon's dungeons, deep and old, There are seven columns, massy and gray, Dim with a dull, imprisoned ray— A sunbeam that hath lost its way, And through the crevice and the cleft Of the thick wall is fallen and left Creeping o'er the floor so damp, Like a marsh's meteor lamp."

In repeating these lines, the teacher spoke in a strong foreign accent. All the boys listened attentively while he spoke, though of course only Rollo and those of the boys who had studied English could understand him.

After this the boys came back through the whole range of dungeons, by the same way that they had come in. They could now see the beam from which the condemned criminals were hung. It passed across from rock to rock, high above their heads, in a dark and gloomy place, and seemed perfectly black with age.

When the party came out of the dungeons, a young woman took them in charge, to show them the apartments above. She conducted them up a broad flight of stone stairs to a massive doorway, which led to the principal story of the castle. Here the boys passed through one after another of several large halls, which were formerly used for various purposes when the castle was inhabited, but are employed now for the storage of brass cannons, and of ammunition belonging to the Swiss government. When the castle was built, the country in which it stands belonged to a neighboring state, called Savoy; and it was the Duke of Savoy, who was a sort of king, that built it, and it was he that confined the prisoners in it so cruelly. Many of them were confined there on account of being accused of conspiring against his government. At length, however, the war broke out between Switzerland and Savoy, and the Swiss were victorious. They besieged this castle by an army on the land and by a fleet of galleys on the lake, and in due time they took it. They let all the prisoners which they found confined there go free, and since then they have used the castle as a place of storage for arms and ammunition.

One of the halls which the boys went into, the guide said, used to be a senate house, and another was the court room where the prisoners were tried. There was a staircase which led from the court room down to the dungeon below, where the great black beam was, from which they were to be hung.

The boys, however, did not pay a great deal of attention to what the guide said about the former uses of these rooms. They seemed to be much more interested in the purposes that they were now serving, and so went about examining very eagerly the great brass cannons and the ammunition wagons that stood in them.

At length, however, they came to something which specially attracted their attention. It was a small room, which the guide said was an ancient torturing room. There was a large wooden post in the centre of the room, extending from the floor to the vault above. The post was worn and blackened by time and decay, and there were various hooks, and staples, and pulleys attached to it at different heights, which the guide said were used for securing the prisoners to the post, when they were to be tortured. The post itself was burned in many places, as if by hot irons.

The boys saw another place in a room beyond, which was in some respects still more dreadful than this. It was a place where there was an opening in the floor, near the wall of the room, that looked like a trap door. There was the beginning of a stone stair leading down. A small railing was built round the opening, as if to keep people from falling in. The boys all crowded round the railing, and looked down.

They saw that the stair only went down three steps, and then it came to a sudden end, and all below was a dark and dismal pit, which seemed bottomless. On looking more intently, however, they could at length see a glimmer of light, and hear the rippling of the waves of the lake, at a great depth below. The guide said that this was one of the oubliettes, that is, a place where men could be destroyed secretly, and in such a manner that no one should ever know what became of them. They were conducted to this door, and directed to go down. It was dark, so that they could only see the first steps of the stair. They would suppose, however, that the stair was continued, and that it would lead them down to some room, where they were to go. So they would walk on carefully, feeling for the steps of the stair; but after the third there would be no more, and they would fall down to a great depth on ragged rocks, and be killed. To make it certain that they would be killed by the fall, there were sharp blades, like the ends of scythes, fixed in the rock, far below, to cut them in pieces as they fell.

It seems these tyrants, hateful and merciless as they were, did not wish, or perhaps did not dare, to destroy the souls as well as the bodies of their victims, and so they contrived it that the last act which the poor wretch should perform before going down into this dreadful pit should be an act of devotion. To this end there was made a little niche in the wall, just over the trap door, and there was placed there an image of the Virgin Mary, who is worshipped in Catholic countries as divine. The prisoner was invited to kiss this image as he passed by, just as he began to descend the stair. Thus the very last moment of his life would be spent in performing an act of devotion, and thus, as they supposed, his soul would be saved. What a strange combination is this of superstition and tyranny!

After seeing all these things, the boys returned towards the entrance of the castle. They met several parties of ladies and gentlemen coming in; and just as they got to the door again, the carriage containing Mr. and Mrs. Holiday drove up. So Rollo bade the teacher and all the boys good by, after accompanying them a few minutes, as they walked along the road towards the place where they were to go. By this time his father and mother had descended from their carriage, and were ready to go in. So Rollo joined them, and went through the castle again, and saw all the places a second time.

When they came out, and were getting into the carriage, Mr. Holiday said that it was a very interesting place.

"Yes," said Mrs. Holiday; "and we have seen all that Byron speaks of in his poem, except the little island. Where is the little island?"

Mr. Holiday pointed out over the water of the lake, where a group of three tall trees seemed to be growing directly out of the water, only that there was a little wall around them below. They looked like three flowers growing in a flower pot set in the water.

"Yes," said Mrs. Holiday, "that must certainly be it. It corresponds exactly." So she repeated the following lines from Byron's poem, which describes the island in the language of one of the prisoners, who saw it from his dungeon window,

"And then there was a little isle, Which in my very face did smile— The only one in view; A small green isle, it seemed no more, Scarce broader than my dungeon floor; But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing, Of gentle breath and hue."

"That's pretty poetry," said Rollo.

"Very pretty indeed," said his father.

The horse now began to trot along the road. The little island continued in view for a while, and then disappeared, and afterwards came into view again, as the road went turning and winding around, following the indentations of the shore.

At length, after a short but very pleasant ride, the party arrived safely at the inn again at Villeneuve.



CHAPTER XIII.

PLAN FORMED.

The reason why the Lake of Geneva is of a crescent form is, that that is the shape of the space in the bottom of the valley which it fills. There are two ranges of mountains running in a curved direction almost parallel to each other, and the space between them, for a certain distance, is filled with water, owing to the spreading out of the waters of the Rhone in flowing through. Thus the lake is produced by the valley, and takes its form from it.

The valley does not come to an end when you reach the head of the lake, but continues for more than a hundred miles beyond, the two mountain ranges continuing to border it all that distance, and the River Rhone to flow through the centre of it. Thus at Villeneuve you look in one direction, and you have a winding valley filled with water, extending for fifty miles, to Geneva; while in the other direction, the same valley—though now the floor of it is a green and fertile plain—continues, with the same stupendous walls of mountain bordering the sides of it, for a hundred miles or more, to the sources of the Rhone.

There is another thing that is very curious in respect to this valley, and that is, that the floor of it is as flat, and smooth, and level, almost, where it is formed of land, as where it is formed of water.

Geologists suppose that the reason why the bottom of the valley, when it consists of land, is so perfectly level, is because the land has been formed by deposits from the river, in the course of a long succession of ages. Of course the river could never build the land any higher, in any part, than it rises itself in the highest inundations. Indeed, land formed by river deposits is almost always nearly level, and the surface of it is but little raised above the ordinary level of the stream, and never above that of the highest inundations.

It must, however, by no means be supposed that because the surface of the valley above the head of the lake is flat and level, that it is on that account monotonous and uninteresting. Indeed, it is quite the reverse. It forms one of the richest and most enchanting landscapes that can be conceived. It is abundantly shaded with trees, some planted in avenues along the roadside, some bearing fruit in orchards and gardens, and some standing in picturesque groups about the houses, or in pretty groves by the margin of the fields. The land is laid out in a very charming manner, in gardens, orchards, meadows, and fields of corn and grain, with no fences to separate them either from each other or from the road; so that in walking along the public highway you seem to walk in one of the broad alleys of an immense and most beautiful garden.

Besides all these beauties of the scene itself, the pleasure of walking through it is greatly increased by the number and variety of groups and figures of peasant girls and boys, and women and men, that you meet coming along the road, or see working in the fields, all dressed in the pretty Swiss costume, and each performing some curious operation, which is either in itself, or in the manner of performing it, entirely different from what is seen in any other land.

Rollo followed the main road leading up the valley a little way one evening, while his father and mother were at Villeneuve, in order, as he said, to see where the diligences went to. He was so much pleased with what he saw that he went back to the hotel, and began studying the guide book, in order to find how far it was to the next town, and what objects of interest there were to be seen on the way. He was so well satisfied with the result of his investigations that he resolved to propose to his father and mother to make a pedestrian excursion up the valley.

"Now, mother," said he, "I have a plan to propose, and that is, that we all set out to-morrow morning, and make a pedestrian excursion up the valley, to the next town, or the next town but one."

"How far is it?" asked Mrs. Holiday.

"Why, the best place to go to," said Rollo, "is Aigle, which is the second town, and that is only six miles from here."

"O Rollo!" said Mrs. Holiday; "I could not possibly walk six miles."

"O, yes, mother," said Rollo. "The road is as smooth, and level, and hard as a floor. Besides, you said that you meant to make a pedestrian excursion somewhere while you were in Switzerland, and there could not be a better place than this."