has no edifice of
much pretension, and yet it is not badly built.

We passed the first three or four days in looking about us, and, on the
whole, we have been rather pleased with the place. Our house is but a
stone's throw from the water, at a point where there is what in the
Manhattanese dialect would be called a battery.[34] This _battery_ leads
to the mole and the great square. At the first corner of the latter
stands a small semi-castellated edifice, with the colours of the canton
on the window-shutters, which is now in some way occupied for public
purposes, and which formerly was the residence of the _bailli_, or the
local governor that Berne formerly sent to rule them in the name of the
Burgerschaft. The square is quite large, and usually contains certain
piles of boards, &c. that are destined for the foot of the lake, lumber
being a material article in the commerce of the place. On this square,
also, is the ordinary market and several inns. The town-house is an
ancient building in a more crowded quarter, and at the northern gate are
the remains of another structure that has an air of antiquity, which I
believe also belongs to the public. Beyond these and its glorious views,
Vevey, in itself, has but little to attract attention. But its environs
contain its sources of pride. Besides the lake-shore, which varies in
its form and beauties, it is not easy to imagine a more charming
acclivity than that which lies behind the town. The inclination is by no
means as great, just at this spot, at it is both farther east and
farther west, but it admits of cultivation, of sites for hamlets, and is
much broken by inequalities and spacious natural terraces. I cannot
speak with certainty of the extent of this acclivity, but, taking the
eye for a guide, I should think there is quite a league of the inclined
plane in view from the town. It is covered with hamlets, chateaux,
country-houses, churches and cottages, and besides its vines, of which
there are many near the town, it is highly beautiful from the verdure of
its slopes, its orchards, and its groves of nut-trees.

[Footnote 34: The manner in which the English language is becoming
corrupted in America, as well as in England, is a matter of serious
regret. Some accidental circumstance induced the Manhattanese to call a
certain enclosure the Park. This name, probably, at first was
appropriate enough, as there might have been an intention really to form
a park, though the enclo