he weather was just right and Clemens's
rheumatism did not trouble him. But they were likely to take a carriage,
or a donkey-cart, or a train, or any convenient thing that happened
along. They did not hurry, but idled and talked and gathered flowers, or
gossiped with wayside natives and tourists, though always preferring to
wander along together, beguiling the way with discussion and speculation
and entertaining tales. They crossed on into Switzerland in due time
and considered the conquest of the Alps. The family followed by rail or
diligence, and greeted them here and there when they rested from their
wanderings. Mark Twain found an immunity from attention in Switzerland,
which for years he had not known elsewhere. His face was not so well
known and his pen-name was carefully concealed.

It was a large relief to be no longer an object of public curiosity; but
Twichell, as in the Bermuda trip, did not feel quite honest, perhaps, in
altogether preserving the mask of unrecognition. In one of his letters
home he tells how; when a young man at their table was especially
delighted with Mark Twain's conversation, he could not resist taking the
young man aside and divulging to him the speaker's identity.

"I could not forbear telling him who Mark was," he says, "and the
mingled surprise and pleasure his face exhibited made me glad I had done
so."

They climbed the Rigi, after which Clemens was not in good walking trim
for some time; so Twichell went on a trip on his own account, to give
his comrade a chance to rest. Then away again to Interlaken, where the
Jungfrau rises, cold and white; on over the loneliness of Gemini Pass,
with glaciers for neighbors and the unfading white peaks against the
blue; to Visp and to Zermatt, where the Matterhorn points like a finger
that directs mankind to God. This was true Alpine wandering--sweet
vagabondage.

The association of the wanderers was a very intimate one. Their
minds were closely attuned, and there were numerous instances of
thought--echo-mind answering to mind--without the employment of words.
Clemens records in his notes:

Sunday A.M., August 11th. Been reading Romola yesterday afternoon,
last night, and this morning; at last I came upon the only passage
which has thus far hit me with force--Tito compromising with his
conscience, and resolving to do; not a bad thing, but not the best
thing. Joe entered the room five minutes--no, three minutes later