We arrived at Berne early on the morning of Oct. 12th, and, after leaving our horses at the inn, The Falcon, lost no time in visiting the objects of interest in that ancient city, not forgetting the bear pit, in which there were at that time six of these creatures. In the afternoon we resumed our journey toward Fribourg, and very soon overtook a newly married couple. As they were traveling on horseback like ourselves, and were following the same route for a certain distance, we all agreed to keep together. While passing along a shady part of the road the bride’s dress became so firmly entangled in the branches of an apple tree that, failing to stop the horse, she was left suspended in the air by her skirts. I immediately dismounted and helped her to regain her feet, to adjust her disordered dress, and to resume her seat in the saddle. On arriving at Fribourg we put up at the inn called _La Croix Blanche_, and soon discovered that almost everybody in the town spoke French, a language with which Thomas and I, who were Germans, were not familiar; but, thanks to our companion Robert, the Parisian, we experienced no difficulty whatever in making all our wants known and in securing all the information that we desired. On the following day, Oct. 13th, it was raining hard when we left Fribourg, and we were soon wet to the skin. After passing through several small villages we stopped for refreshment at an inn in the picturesque town of Romont, and at the same time availed ourselves of the opportunity to have our clothes dried. Then, having satisfied our appetites, we resumed our journey in the direction of Lausanne; but we did not get very far on our way before we discovered that Thomas had disappeared. We were of course obliged to wait for him, and, by the time he had rejoined the party, darkness and a thick fog combined to render further progress very difficult, and we soon realized that we had lost our way. We wandered up and down for some time without encountering a barn or building of any kind in which we might find shelter from the rain and secure a measure of protection from the robbers who, according to common report, infested that part of the country. Finally, however, we discovered a small village; but, when we applied for a night’s lodging, not one of the householders was willing to receive us. So we engaged the services of a young peasant to act as our guide, and with his assistance we finally reached a mean-looking inn in a village called Mézières, which was composed of a few widely scattered houses. We entered the tavern and found several Savoyard peasants and some beggars seated at the long table of the bar-room; they were engaged in eating roasted chestnuts and black bread, which they washed down with copious draughts of a liquor called _piquette_. They unceremoniously examined