This was amusing, after the information contained in the Hotel Guide Book, which runs thus:--"Some daring ascensionists up the Rigi, only obstinate themselves to disdain the railway, and so _walk_ up the mountain _on foot_." Our run down to Weggis was exhausting from the speed with which it was done, but we soon found ourselves safely and comfortably ensconced at the hotel at Brunnen, where we intended to spend the night previous to proceeding by the St. Gothard into Italy. _En passant_ we might remark on the pleasure of the Lucerne Lake, "out of season." We were the only visitors in the hotel, and were treated with liberality in the matter of fare, and with unbounded courtesy and attention. Our walk through the village at night was grand from its loneliness and mystery. We have since been there in August, but, O! how different! We do not like brass bands and noisy German tourists. Early next morning we went by steamer over the Lake of Flueelen, and were much struck with the view of this place from the distance--the quaint red steeple, and the little Swiss chalets looking so pretty against the huge mountains, which are here more striking than anywhere on the banks of the lake. At Flueelen we continued our journey by the St. Gothard Railway, but by an unlucky chance we got into a compartment with an Italian professor of languages--a terrible nuisance--who was delighted at having an opportunity of improving his English pronunciation at our expense. The older and wiser bachelor, realising that it was impossible to prevent our companion from chattering, determined to turn him to account, and commenced to ask questions in Italian, adding to his small store of knowledge of that language. But the younger bachelor, to whom the magnificent scenery was entirely new, would stand the worry no longer, and got into another compartment. The scenery of the St. Gothard Pass, at once after leaving Flueelen, is magnificent to a degree. At every turn of the railway is presented a scene of snow mountains, of roaring torrents, and of towering precipices, which are so characteristic of this superb country. At Geschenen the train stopped for about half-an-hour, so we got out and looked about us, and found, to our delight, the whole of this superb gorge enveloped in snow. The novelty of the sight proved so tempting that we resolved to see more of it, and ascend to Andermatt, some miles from Geschenen, thus sacrificing our railway tickets to Lugano. We ordered a carriage at the station, and wrapping ourselves up well--for it was very cold--commenced our drive in right good spirits. Before starting we were joined by a tall, handsome Englishman, who, like ourselves, had not been able to resist the temptation of breaking his journey at Geschenen.