I must resume the thread of my narrative where I left it, at my entrance to Zurich. I did nothing that evening but look about the town, visit the old church where Zwingli, the earliest Swiss reformer, preached. The prettiest view is from the new stone bridge which is thrown across the Limmat just where it emerges from the lake. The stream, like all those that proceed from these lakes, is full, and clear almost as glass, of a fine blue tint; it rushes with great rapidity, but is still and even. The view extends up the lake to its middle, where a slight change in its direction intercepts further view; beyond rise some low mountains; a little farther a higher range overtops these, and these are again overlooked by the Alps of Glarns, Schwyz, etc., with thin tall peaks and brilliant glaciers. The shores of the lake are highly cultivated and thickly covered with little manufacturing villages. This is a Protestant canton. I attended church and heard a preacher who seemed to be very earnest, but as his language was an unknown tongue, there was little chance of my being edified, and I spent the remainder of the day at my room. The new hotel here is extremely good. Early yesterday morning I prepared myself for a pedestrian excursion over the finest mountain regions of Switzerland, which will take me about ten days, if I do not get tired of it and give it up. Not that I intend to walk all the way, which would be a great loss of time, but to avail myself of steamboats, etc., along lakes, and a diligence when I am on routes which they traverse, knowing full well that there will remain many weary and difficult miles that can only be passed by the pedestrian. So I have packed up my trunk and sent it on to Geneva, at the opposite corner of Switzerland. The garçon of the hotel purchased a knapsack for me.... Thus equipped, my knapsack on my back, the Guide to Switzerland in one pocket, and Keller’s excellent map in the other, I set out on my travels in search of the sublime. At nine o’clock yesterday morning I left Zurich; took the steamboat down the lake as far as Horgen, some eight or ten miles, where I took a little lunch, and crossed the bridge into the little canton of Zug,--Catholic, as one soon finds out, by the crosses and beggars which abound by the wayside. Here the lofty Mont Pilate, with its sharp peaks, was in sight; it lies on the other side of Lake Lucerne. Soon after I saw the Lake of Zug, and soon after one o’clock I reached Zug, on the borders of the lake of the same name, the capital of the canton, a retired and lifeless village. I entered the best hotel well heated with my walk, which now amounted to about twelve miles. I obtained a plain but very good dinner of soup, the everlasting corned beef, fish, roast, and strawberries and cherries ad libitum; chatted French with the voluble kellnerinn (the demoiselle of the inn); paid my bill of two francs, and was again on my way. It was very warm,