walls and floors, unpainted, and everything else to match. We
took our tea at a pine table, and the drawing-room to which we retired
from it, was a corner of the same room, where was a little mite of a
sofa and a few books, and a cheerful lamp burning.

All this time I have not answered your question about the Fourth of
July. We had great doings, I assure you. Mr. P. made a speech, and ran
up and down the saloon like a war horse. He was so excited and pale that
I did not enjoy it much, thinking any instant he would faint and fall.
Mr. Cleaveland was the orator of the day and acquitted himself very
well, they all said. I was in my berth at the time of its delivery,
saving myself for the dinner and toasts, and so did not hear it. The
whole affair is to be printed. There was a great cry of "Prentiss!
Prentiss!" after the "Captain's dinner," and at last the poor man had to
respond in a short speech to a toast to the ladies. I suppose you know
that he considers all women as angels. Mr. Stearns left us on Thursday
to set his face homewards.

* * * * *

II.

Montreux. The Swiss Autumn. Castle of Chillon. Death and Sorrow of
Friends at Home. Twilight Talks. Spring Flowers.

Early in October the family removed to Montreux, at the upper end of the
lake of Geneva, where the next six months were passed in what was then
known as the Maison des Bains. Montreux was at this time the centre of
a group of pleasant villages, scattered along the shore of the lake, or
lying back of it among the hills. One of these villages, Clarens, was
rendered famous in the last century by the pen of Rousseau, and early
in this by the pen of Byron. The grave of Vinet, the noble leader, and
theologian of the Free Church of the canton of Vaud, now renders the
spot sacred to the Christian scholar. Montreux was then a favorite
resort of invalids in quest of a milder climate. At many points it
commands fine views of the lake, and the whole region abounds in
picturesque scenery. The Maison des Bains is said to have long since
disappeared; but in 1858, it seemed to hang upon the side of the
Montreux hill and was one of the most noticeable features of the
landscape, as seen from the passing steamer.

_To Mrs. Henry B. Smith, Montreux, October 31, 1858._

Your letter was a real comfort and I am so thankful to the man that
invented letter-writing that I don't know what to do. We feast on
everything we hear from home, however