Switzerland. 109 



Voices of strange melody reach and touch his heart, 

 the echoes of which are to linger in his memory dur- 

 ing his long and checkered life. 



From ///.s- PrncUlrd Nofr--^. 



Lake Constance. 



We had been winding among the hills for some 

 hours, now ascending slowly a mountain, and then 

 descending with locked wheels into the valleys, 

 and now passing groves of fir and of birch, that 

 seemed to have their roots in the shelving rocks and 

 to cling to the sides of the mountains, when, sud- 

 denly, upon descending a hill, a lovely scene met 

 my eye. For some moments I gazed without utter- 

 ing a word. Before me lay a village with red-cov- 

 ered roofs and four or five spires, nestling, as it were, 

 on the bosom of a smooth and romantic lake. 



The hill-sides on my right were covered witli 

 vineyards — the vines ladened with nearly ripe clus- 

 tering fruit. The gently rising hills on the left, 

 were studded with white cottages, surrounded by a 

 variety of fruit-trees. The lake extended for many 

 miles, and mountain upon mountain rose from its 

 bosom. The nearest to us was covered with green 

 foliage; the more distant appeared blue, and the 

 farthest off seemed to rise among the clouds of 

 heaven, and were covered, as far as the eye could 

 reach, witli snow. 



The passengers exclaimed, "' Der Bodensce" Here 

 then was Lake Constance, presenting a scene of gran- 

 deur and loveliness, that no lover of Nature could 

 witness without feeling entranced. The sun is just 

 setting as I write these notes, and the very heavens 

 seem to be in unison with the scene. The clouds, 

 on a blue ground, have a rich and ruddy hue, and 



