ssed a delicious night without
the city on a road that skirted the Rhone or the Saone, for I
cannot remember which. On the other side were terraced gardens. It
had been a very warm day; the evening was charming; the dew
moistened the faded grass; a calm night, without a breeze; the air
was cool without being cold; the sun in setting had left crimson
vapors in the sky, which tinged the water with its roseate hue,
while the trees along the terrace were filled with nightingales
gushing out melodious answers to each other's song. I walked along
in a species of ecstasy, giving up heart and senses to the
enjoyment of the scene, only slightly sighing with regret at
enjoying it alone. Absorbed in my sweet reverie, I prolonged my
walk far into the night, without perceiving that I was wearied out.
At length I discovered it. I lay voluptuously down on the tablet of
a sort of niche or false door sunk in the terrace wall. The canopy
of my couch was formed by the over-arching boughs of the trees; a
nightingale sat exactly above me; its song lulled me to sleep; my
slumber was sweet, and my awaking still more so. It was broad day;
my eyes, on opening, fell on the water, the verdure, and the
admirable landscape spread out before me. I arose and shook off
dull sleep; and, growing hungry, I gayly directed my steps towards
the city, bent on transforming two _pieces de six blancs_ that I
had left, into a good breakfast. I was so cheerful that I went
singing along the whole way.

This happy-go-lucky, vagabond, grown-up child, this sentimentalist of
genius, had now and then different experiences,--experiences to which
the reflection of the man grown old attributes important influence on
the formation of his most controlling beliefs:--

One day, among others, having purposely turned aside to get a
closer view of a spot that appeared worthy of all admiration, I
grew so delighted with it, and wandered round it so often, that I
at length lost myself completely. After several hours of useless
walking, weary and faint with hunger and thirst, I entered a
peasant's hut which did not present a very promising appearance,
but it was the only one I saw around. I conceived it to be here as
at Geneva and throughout Switzerland, where all the inhabitants in
easy circumstances are in the situation to