place (Weggis, half an hour from Lucerne,) is the
loveliest in the world, and the most satisfactory. We have a small house
on the hillside all to ourselves, and our meals are served in it from
the inn below on the lake shore. Six francs a day per head, house and
food included. The scenery is beyond comparison beautiful. We have a row
boat and some bicycles, and good roads, and no visitors. Nobody knows we
are here. And Sunday in heaven is noisy compared to this quietness.

Sincerely yours
S. L. C.

*****

To Rev. J. H. Twichell, in Hartford:

LUCERNE, Aug. 22, '97.

DEAR JOE,--Livy made a noble find on the Lucerne boat the other day on
one of her shopping trips--George Williamson Smith--did I tell you about
it? We had a lovely time with him, and such intellectual refreshment as
we had not tasted in many a month.

And the other night we had a detachment of the jubilee Singers--6. I had
known one of them in London 24 years ago. Three of the 6 were born in
slavery, the others were children of slaves. How charming they were--in
spirit, manner, language, pronunciation, enunciation, grammar, phrasing,
matter, carriage, clothes--in every detail that goes to make the real
lady and gentleman, and welcome guest. We went down to the village
hotel and bought our tickets and entered the beer-hall, where a crowd
of German and Swiss men and women sat grouped at round tables with their
beer mugs in front of them--self-contained and unimpressionable looking
people, an indifferent and unposted and disheartened audience--and up
at the far end of the room sat the Jubilees in a row. The Singers got up
and stood--the talking and glass jingling went on. Then rose and swelled
out above those common earthly sounds one of those rich chords the
secret of whose make only the Jubilees possess, and a spell fell upon
that house. It was fine to see the faces light up with the pleased
wonder and surprise of it. No one was indifferent any more; and when the
singers finished, the camp was theirs. It was a triumph. It reminded
me of Launcelot riding in Sir Kay's armor and astonishing complacent
Knights who thought they had struck a soft thing. The Jubilees sang a
lot of pieces. Arduous and painstaking cultivation has not diminished
or artificialized their music, but on the contrary--to my surprise--has
mightily reinforced its eloquen