166 A 



Among the passengers of the steam-boat Argo, on board 

 of which I sailed for the United States, nearly thirty 

 years ago, was a Swiss, from Appenzell, whose open 

 honest countenance, genial manners, and natural affability, 

 attracted me from the very first. By a lucky chance his 

 cabin was next to mine, which I shared with a mission- 

 ary bound for Canada, to teach the Catholic faith to the 

 Redskins of the northern deserts. An agreeable inti- 

 macy soon arose between the Swiss and myself; and we 

 were so often together, on deck and at table, that the 

 Jesuit most obligingly offered to take the berth of my 

 new friend, and give up his own. The exchange was 

 quickly made, and I myself assisted in the removal of the 

 goods and chattels. 



Behold us then installed, M. Simond and myself, in the 

 same cabin, rejoicing that we were at full liberty to con- 

 verse, dream, and poetize together. It is rare enough 

 that in life one finds one's alter ego, a friend who thinks 

 like one's-self, whose tastes are the same, whose principles 

 are identical, whose reveries are as bold ; well, this rara 

 avis I had discovered, and without being either of us 

 perfect, we agreed together on all important points. 



The chase, and its irresistible attraction, frequently 

 served as the theme of our long evening conversations on 

 the quarter-deck. M. Simond, after completing his edu- 

 cation at the University of Fribourg, had returned to the 

 home of his father, a rich farmer, cultivating an immense 

 estate between Glaris and Schwytz, and near Mount St. 

 Gothard. The life of a shepherd and a hunter, rude as 

 it may be, had from the first been the coveted goal of my 

 young friend's desires } he accepted with intense delight 



