The city of Basle stands upon the banks of the Rhine, on the northern frontier of Switzerland.  The waters of the Rhine are gathered from hundreds of roaring and turbid torrents which come out, some from vast icy caverns in the glaciers, some from the melting debris of fallen avalanches, some from gushing fountains which break out suddenly through crevices in the rocks or yawning chasms, and some from dark and frightful ravines on the mountain sides, down which they foam and tumble perpetually, fed by vast fields of melting snow above.  The waters of all these torrents, being gathered at last into one broad, and deep, and rapid stream, flow to a vast reservoir called the Lake of Constance, where they repose for a time, or, rather, move slowly and insensibly forward, enjoying a comparative quiescence which has all the characteristics and effects of repose.  The waters enter this reservoir wild and turbid.  They leave it calm and clear; and then, flowing rapidly for one hundred miles along the northern frontier of Switzerland, and receiving successively the waters of many other streams that have come from hundreds of other torrents and have been purified in the repose of other lakes extending over the whole northern slope of Switzerland, they form a broad and rapid river, which flows swiftly through Basle, and then, turning suddenly to the northward, bids Basle and Switzerland farewell together.

“And then where does it go?” said Rollo to Mr. George when his uncle had explained this thus far to him.

“Straight across the continent to the North Sea,” said Mr. George.

Thus the whole northern slope of Switzerland is drained by a system of waters which, when united at Basle, form the River Rhine.

The morning after Mr. George and Rollo arrived at Basle they were looking out upon the River Rhine from the windows of the hotel.

“What a swift river!” said Rollo.

“Yes,” said Mr. George.

“And how blue the water is!” continued Rollo.

“Yes,” said Mr. George.  “The water of the streams which come from the Swiss mountains is turbid at first and very gray from the grinding up of the rocks in the moraines and glaciers and by the avalanches.”

“What is a moraine?” asked Rollo.

“I will explain it to you one of these days,” said Mr. George, “when you come to see one.”

“And a glacier,” said Rollo; “what is that?”

“I will explain that to you, too, some other time,” said Mr. George, “but not now; for the breakfast will come in in a minute or two.”

“Well,” said Rollo, “I can hear while I am eating my breakfast.”

“That may be,” replied Mr. George; “but I cannot lecture very well while I am eating my breakfast.”

Rollo laughed.  “I did not think of that,” said he.

“What queer boats!” continued Rollo, looking out again upon the river.  “And there is a long bridge leading over to the other side.  May I go out and walk over on that bridge after breakfast?”

“Yes,” said Mr. George, “you may go any where you please.”

“But suppose I should get lost,” said Rollo.  “What should I do then?”

“I don’t know,” said Mr. George, “unless you should ask somebody to tell you the way to the Three Kings.”

“But perhaps they would not understand English,” said Rollo.

“Then you must say Trois Rois,
which is the French name for the hotel,” rejoined Mr. George.

“But perhaps they would not understand French,” said Rollo.

“No,” replied Mr. George; “I think it probable they would not; for people talk German generally in this part of Switzerland.  In that case you must ask the way to Drei Koenige."

Here the waiter came in with the breakfast.  It consisted of a pot of coffee, another of boiled milk, an omelette, some excellent cakes, and some honey.  There was a long table extending up and down the room, which was a very large and handsome apartment, and there were besides several round tables in corners and in pleasant places near the windows.  The breakfast for Mr. George and Rollo was put upon one of the round tables; and, in sitting down to it, Rollo took pains to place himself in such a manner that he could look out the window and see the water while he was eating.

“What a dreadful river that would be to fall into!” said Rollo.  “It runs so swift and looks so angry!”

“Yes,” said Mr. George.  “It runs swift because the descent is very great.  Switzerland is very high; and the water, in running from it, flows very swiftly.”

“I did not know that Switzerland was all high,” said Rollo.  “I knew that the mountains were high; but the valleys must be low.”

“No,” said Mr. George; “it is all high.  The bottoms of the valleys are higher than the tops of the mountains in many other countries.  In going into Switzerland, we go up hill nearly all the way; and so, even when we are at the bottom of the deepest valleys in Switzerland, we are up very high.  There is Chamouni, for example, which is a deep valley near the foot of Mont Blanc.  The bottom of that valley is six or seven times as high as the top of the Palisades on the North River.”

“O, uncle George!” exclaimed Rollo.

“Yes,” said Mr. George; “and it is so with all the Swiss valleys; and, accordingly, the water that comes down through them has a great descent to make in getting to the sea.  Thus there are a great many falls, and cascades, and rapids; and, even in those places where the rivers run smoothly, the current is very swift and very strong.”

While Mr. George and Rollo were eating their breakfast the attention of Rollo was occupied partly by the prospect of the river as he saw it through the open window, and partly by the various groups of travellers who were constantly coming into the room, or going out, or taking their breakfasts in little parties at the tables.  Some who had finished their breakfasts were looking at maps and guide books which they had spread out before them on the tables.  The room was very large, and very beautiful; and, as it was lighted on the back side by a row of wide and lofty windows which looked out upon the river, it wore a very bright and cheerful expression.  At one end of it were glass doors, which led into another room very similar to this, as it likewise had windows looking out upon the river.  This room was used as a sort of sitting room and reading room.  There was a table in the centre, with newspapers, some French, some English, and some German, lying upon it.  Rollo determined to go into this room as soon as he had finished his breakfast to see who was there and what they were doing.

“Rollo,” said Mr. George, after a short pause, “do you wish to travel in Switzerland intelligently or blindly?”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Rollo.

“Why, do you wish to understand something of the general features of the country first, so as to know always, as we go travelling on, where you are, and where you are going, and what you are to expect to see, or would you rather not trouble yourself at all about this, but take things as they come along, and enjoy them as you see them, without thinking or caring what is to come next.”

“Which is the best way?” asked Rollo.

“Either is a very good way,” replied Mr. George.  “There is a pleasure in understanding and anticipating, and there is also a pleasure in wondering what is to come next and meeting with surprises.  You can take your choice.”

Rollo reflected a moment, and then he said that he thought he should like best to understand.

“Very well,” said Mr. George.  “Then I will explain to you the general features of Switzerland.  Switzerland ­or at least that portion of it which is the chief scene of the rambles of tourists and travellers ­consists substantially of a long and deep valley, extending from east to west through the centre, and bordered by a range of mountains on each side.  The range of mountains on the northern side of this valley is, of course, towards Germany; the one on the southern side is towards Italy.  On the north side of the northern range of mountains is a broad slope of land, extending a hundred miles towards the German frontier.  On the southern side of the southern range of mountains is a steep and narrow slope, extending to the Italian frontier.

“Thus we may say,” continued Mr. George, “that Switzerland consists substantially of a broad northern slope of land and a narrow southern slope, with a deep valley between them.  Do you understand this?”

“Yes,” said Rollo.  “If I had some damp sand, and a little wooden shovel, I think I could make it.”

“People do make models of the Swiss valleys and mountains,” said Mr. George.  “In fact, they have maps of Switzerland, embossed with all the mountains in relief; and I wish very much that we had one here to look at.”

“There is one here,” said Rollo, his face brightening up very luminously as he spoke.  “I saw it hanging up in the gallery, and I did not know what it was.  It must be that.  I’ll go and show it to you after breakfast.”

“I am very glad,” said Mr. George.  “I wished to see one very much.  We will go and see it immediately after breakfast.  But now let me tell you a little more about the country.  You must not imagine that the northern slope, as I called it, is one smooth and uniform surface of descending land.  There are mountains, and valleys, and lakes, and precipices, and waterfalls, and every other variety of mountain scenery scattered all over it, making it a most picturesque and romantic region.  It is, however, on the whole, a slope.  It begins with comparatively smooth and level land on the north and it terminates in a range of lofty mountain crests on the south; and you have to go over this crest somewhere, by some of the steep and difficult passes that cross it, to get into the central valley.  We are on the margin of this slope now.  When we leave here and strike into the heart of Switzerland we shall be gradually ascending it.  I am going first to a place called Interlachen, which is in a deep valley far up this slope, just under the ridge of mountains.  Interlachen is surrounded, in fact, by mountains, and a great many pleasant excursions can be made from it.  We shall stop there a few days and make excursions, and then cross over by some of the mountain passes into the valley.”

“Well,” said Rollo, in a tone of great satisfaction.  “I shall like that; I should like to go over a mountain pass.  Shall we go in a carriage, or on horseback.”

“That depends upon which of the passes we take,” said Mr. George.  “Some of them are carriage roads, some are bridle paths; and you ride over on mules or horses.  Others are too steep and dangerous to ride over in any way.  You have to go on foot, climbing up zigzag paths cut out of the rock, and over great patches of snow that horses and mules would sink into.”

“Let’s go in one of those,” said Rollo, straightening himself up.

“Sometimes the path becomes narrower and narrower,” continued Mr. George, “until it is finally lost among the rocks, and you have to clamber around the point of some rocky cliff a thousand feet in the air, with scarcely any thing but the jagged roughness of the rocks to cling to.”

“Yes, sir,” said Rollo, eagerly.  “Yes, sir.  Let’s go there.  That’s just the kind of road I want to go in.”

“Well, we’ll see,” said Mr. George.  “The first thing is to go to Interlachen.  That is in the heart of the mountains, and very near the passes which lead over into the valley.  When we get there we will study the guide book and the maps and determine which way to go.”

“And after you get into the valley,” said Rollo, “shall you go across it, and go over the mountains on the other side, into Italy?”

“I don’t know,” said Mr. George.  “Perhaps we shall not have time.  I may think it is best to spend the time in rambling about among the mountains and glaciers near the head of the valley, where I believe is to be found the most stupendous scenery in all Switzerland.”

The breakfast was now nearly finished, though the process of eating it had been a good deal impeded by the conversation, so large a share of it having fallen to Mr. George.  Mr. George, however, explained to Rollo that their first day’s journey from Basle would be south, towards Berne, the capital of the country ­a city which was situated near the centre of the northern slope which Mr. George had described.

“Do we go by a railway?” asked Rollo.

“No,” said Mr. George; “by a diligence.”