and well-regulated habits would appear at such an hour, we
knew. The light strengthened with our impatience. Every half-closed eye
was fixed upon that corner of the heavens from which the sun would sally
forth. The golden gates had opened. A red banner floated out. Tiny
clouds on either side awaited his coming, dressed in crimson and yellow
livery. Every one of us stood upon tiptoe--the heels of our unbuttoned
boots thereupon dropping down. One collarless tourist, in whose outward
adorning suspenders played a conspicuous part, gravely opened his
guide-book, found the place with some difficulty, and buried his head in
the pages, to assure himself that everything was proceeding according to
Murray. Suddenly the white faces of the distant mountains grew purple
with a rage which we all shared; the flaming banner streamed out across
the east, and the king of day, with most majestic step, but frightfully
swollen, tell-tale countenance, rose in the heavens. I am sure he had
been out all night.

The light grew clearer now. The mountains rose reluctantly, and shook
off their wrappings of mist. The little clouds doffed their crimson
finery. The man held together by the marvellous complication of
shoulder-straps, closed his guide-book with an air of entire
satisfaction. Evidently the programme, as laid down by Murray, had been
accurately carried out. Everybody exclaimed, "Wonderful!" in his or her
native tongue. All the knickerbockers, and woollen shirts, and lank
water-proofs, without any back hair to speak of, trotted off down the
hill to be metamorphosed into human beings, and prepare for breakfast,
even to the individual who had been stalking about in a white bed
blanket, with a striped border--though printed notices in every room
expressly forbade the using of bed blankets as morning wraps.

When breakfast was over, there was nothing to do but to make the descent
to Weggis, and return to Lucerne.

After a time, when weariness could no longer be made an excuse for
lingering, we prepared for a tour through Switzerland. Engaging
carriages to meet us at Fluellen, we embarked for the last time upon the
beautiful lake, winding in and out its intricate ways, shut in by the
towering cliffs that closed before us, only to re-open, revealing new
charms as we rounded some promontory, and the lake widened again. Upon
the bays thus formed, villages lean against the mountain-side. Where the
rocks fall abruptly to the water, an occasional