I was called in the morning at half past three to ascend the peak and watch the effect of sunrise upon the Alps and valleys. The morning proved quite favorable, though a little cloudy. The mountains, lakes, and valleys were all distinct, but looked cold. At length a blast from a wooden trumpet (a better instrument than you would think) announced sunrise, and the sun appeared between two strips of cloud, lighting up first the distant and high peaks and glaciers of the Bernese Alps, the Jungfrau, the Finster-Aarhorn, the Titlis, highest of all,--the white glaciers shining like burnished silver. Soon the serrated ridge of the gloomy Pilatus is lighted up; the dark valleys become more distinct; the lakes look brighter, and the broad valley toward the north stretches before you like a map, far as the eye can reach, covered with hamlets and villages, and diversified here and there with beautiful lakes.... Stanz, 25th June.... I intended to leave the Rigi by way of Wäggis on Lake Lucerne; to take there the steamboat as it passed at two o’clock, and go up the farther part of the lake, the Bay of Uri, and finding, if possible, the mail-courier at Fluellen, to go with him to the summit of the pass of St. Gotthard, return as far as Hospital, and cross by the pass of the Furca and the Grimsel to Grindelwald, etc. If you had Keller’s fine map before you, it would be easy to trace this route, and to find out also where I now am. Without it you will not do it so easily. So having plenty of time, I stayed on the Rigi until noon, and then descended leisurely, having grown wise by experience, and knowing that the descent of a steep mountain is much worse for the legs and feet than the ascent. Besides, a little storm arose, and I took shelter under an overhanging rock, and amused myself in watching its progress down the lake, and in hearing the deep and prolonged echoes of the thunder as it was reverberated from peak to peak among the Alps. It was a scene to be remembered. And then the numerous ever-changing aspects of the mountains and lake as it cleared up! Saw the steamboat at a distance, and hastened to the foot of the mountain, when it soon became evident enough that the boat did not intend to touch there; so we took a boat and went out to meet it. But although we drew very near them as they passed, they did not choose to take the slightest notice of us, and I was obliged, in the middle of the lake, to consider what should be done in such a predicament. I had no intention of awaiting the return of the steamboat and going with her to Lucerne, thence to begin the route to-morrow; and for a few moments I was a little bothered. But fortunately a pedestrian like me is not at the mercy of steamboats and stagecoaches; and the high satisfaction one feels at his comparative independence is one of the great pleasures of this mode of locomotion, and goes far to compensate for the fatigue. I reflected that I might not