After spending several hours in Berne and wondering greatly at the many strange things which they saw there, Mr. George and Rollo took their passage in another diligence for Thun, which was a town still farther in towards the heart of Switzerland on the way to Interlachen.  It took only three or four hours to go to Thun.  The town, they found, was small, compact, surrounded by walls, and very delightfully situated at the end of a long lake, which extended from that point very far in among the mountains.  There was one thing very remarkable about Thun, at least it seemed very remarkable to Rollo, although he found afterwards that it was a common thing in Switzerland; and that was, that the hotels were all outside the town.

There was reason in this; for the town ­though it was a very curious and romantic place, with a church on a terraced hill at one end of it, surrounded with a beautifully ornamented church yard, with seats and bowers here and there at the corners of it, which overlooked the country and commanded charming views of the lake and mountains ­was still, in the main, very contracted and confined, and hotels would not be pleasantly situated in it.  A little beyond the town, however, on the margin of the lake, was a delightful region of gardens and pleasure grounds, with four or five very handsome hotels among them.  Mr. George and Rollo stopped to dine at one of these hotels.  From the windows of it there were the most brilliant and charming prospects of the lake and the surrounding mountains on one side, and on the other a view of the town and of two or three very pretty little steamboats lying at a pier.

Behind the hotel the land very soon ascended rapidly, the ascent terminating at last in crags and precipices which towered at a vast height above.  Among these heights Rollo saw a sort of pavilion, built on a small projecting point of a hill, four or five hundred feet, perhaps, above the hotel.

“Do you think any body can get up there?” said he to his uncle George.

They were standing, when Rollo said this, on the back piazza of the hotel ­a very beautiful place, looking out upon green lawns and gardens.

“Certainly,” said Mr. George.  “They would not have built such a lookout as that without making a way to get to it.”

“Then let’s go up there,” said Rollo, “and see what we can see.”

“Very well,” said Mr. George; “lead the way, and I will follow.”

“Well, come,” said Rollo, moving on.  “I am not sure that I can find the way; but I’ll try.”

So saying, Rollo chose from among several broad and smooth gravel walks which he saw diverging from the house in various directions, among the groves and copses of shrubbery that ornamented the grounds behind it, the one which seemed to turn most nearly in the right direction; and, running along before, he was soon out of sight of the hotel.  The path meandered gracefully among shrubs, and flowers, and pretty green openings a little way, and then began to ascend the hill, sometimes in a winding course and sometimes by zigzags.  There were seats placed here and there at proper points for rest.  At length both Rollo and Mr. George were surprised to find coming suddenly into view a small building, which stood in a very romantic and picturesque spot about half way up the hill, which proved, on examination, to be a little chapel.  It was an Episcopal chapel, built here by the proprietor of the hotel for the accommodation of his English guests on Sundays.  There are a great many English travellers in Switzerland, more perhaps from that nation than from any other, and the English people are very much pleased with the opportunity to worship God, when in foreign lands, according to the rites and usages of their own national church.  Americans, on the other hand, when travelling, generally prefer to attend churches in which the worship is conducted according to the usages of the people in whose country they chance to be.

After looking at the little English chapel as long as they wished, our two travellers went on up the path.  The ascent soon became very steep, and the way led through close woods, which allowed of no opportunity to see, except that now and then a brief glimpse was obtained of the hotel, with the gardens and grounds around it, and the gentlemen and ladies walking upon the piazza in the rear of it.

After about a quarter of an hour of hard climbing up a wild and romantic but very smooth and well made path the two young gentlemen reached the pavilion.  Here a boundless and most magnificent prospect was opened before them.  Rollo was bewildered with astonishment and delight; and even Mr. George, who was usually very cool and quiet on such occasions, seemed greatly pleased.  I shall not, however, attempt to describe the view; for, though a fine view from an elevated point among lakes and mountains is a very exciting thing actually to witness and enjoy, it is by no means an interesting thing to describe.

“What a magnificent prospect!” said Rollo.

Rollo, as he said this, was looking down at the more near and distinctly detailed objects which were to be seen directly below him at the bottom of the hill, towards the right ­such as the hotels, the gardens, the roads, the pier, the steamboats, and the town.  The attention of Mr. George, however, was attracted by the more grand and sublime features of the view which were to be seen in the other direction ­the lake, the forests, and the mountains.  The mountains that were near were darkened by the groves of evergreens that clothed their sides, and some of them were made more sombre still by the shadows of floating clouds; while over these there towered the glittering summits of more distant ranges, white with everlasting snow.

“How cold they look!” said Mr. George; “how icy cold!”

“How little they look! how very little!  See, uncle George,” said Rollo, pointing; “they are really good large steamboats, and you would think they were only playthings.”

“There are some men walking along the road,” continued Rollo, “just like little dots.”

“See the banks of snow on that mountain, Rollo!” said Mr. George.  “They look like drifts of dry, light snow, as they shine in the sun on a bitter cold winter day.”

“Why doesn’t it melt?” asked Rollo.

“Because it is up so high,” said Mr. George.  “As you go up in the air from the surface of the earth the air grows colder and colder, until at last, when you get up to a certain height, it is cold enough to freeze.”

“Is it so every where?” asked Rollo.

“Yes,” said Mr. George.  “If you were to put some water into a vial and tie it to the tail of a kite, and send it up into the air high enough, the water would freeze, and when it came down you would find the water turned into ice.”

“Should I?” asked Rollo.  “Would it if I were to send the kite up in America?”

“Yes,” said Mr. George, “any where, all over the earth.”

“I mean to try it,” said Rollo.

“You can’t try it very well,” replied Mr. George; “for you could not easily send a kite up high enough.  It would take a very long time.”

“How long?” asked Rollo.

“Why, that depends upon what part of the earth it is that you make the experiment in,” replied Mr. George.  “At the equator, where the sun is very hot, you would have to go up very high.  In temperate regions, as in Switzerland or in most parts of America, you would not have to go up so high; and farther north, near the pole, it is only necessary to go up a very little way.”

“And how high must we go up in Switzerland?” asked Rollo.

“About eight or nine thousand feet, I believe,” said Mr. George.  “Some of the Alpine summits are sixteen thousand feet high; and so the ice and snow lie upon the upper portions of them all the time.”

The young gentlemen remained some time longer in the pavilion, gazing upon the stupendous scenery around them, and looking down the lake which lay before them in the bottom of a deep and narrow valley and extended in among the mountains much farther than they could see.

“We are going along that lake,” said Rollo “are we not?”

“Yes,” said Mr. George; “it is the Lake of Thun.”

“We are going in one of the steamboats that are lying at the pier, are we not?” said Rollo.

“Yes,” said Mr. George; “unless you would prefer going along the shore.”

“Is there a road along the shore?” asked Rollo.

“Yes,” said Mr. George; “there are two, I believe, one on each side of the lake.  These roads run along at the foot of the mountains, far enough, however, above the level of the lake to enable us to enjoy excellent views of it.  But we cannot see the mountains from it as well as we can from the lake itself.”

“Then,” said Rollo, “if we go by the road we can see the lake best; and if we go by the steamboat we can see the mountains best.”

“Yes,” said Mr. George; “that is the state of the case, exactly.”

“Then I think we had better go by the boat,” said Rollo; “for I would rather see the mountains.”

“So would I,” rejoined Mr. George.  “Besides, there will be plenty of occasions on which we shall be obliged to go by land; therefore we had better go by water when we can, in order to have a variety.  And, if we are going in the steamer, we must go back to the hotel; for it is almost time for the steamer to sail.”

So Mr. George led the way, and Rollo followed, down the path by which they had come up.  As they thus walked down they continued the conversation which they had commenced in the pavilion.

“What shall we come to when we get to the end of the lake?” asked Rollo.  “Does the lake reach to the end of the valley?”

“No,” said Mr. George.  “The valley is about fifty miles long, I suppose, and this lake is only about fifteen miles long; but there is another in the same valley a little farther on.  The valley is the valley of the Aar.  That is the name of the stream which flows through it.  It is one of the most remarkable valleys in Switzerland.  I have been studying it in the guide book and on the map.  It is about fifty miles long, and it winds in a serpentine manner between two lofty ranges of mountains, so steep and high that it is not possible to make any road over them.”

“None at all?” asked Rollo.

“No,” replied Mr. George.  “They cannot make any road ­nothing but bridle paths.  The mountains, too, that border the valley along the sides close across at the head of it; so that if you go up the valley at all you cannot get out of it without climbing over the mountains; unless, indeed, you are willing to come back the same way that you went.”

“I would rather climb over the mountains,” said Rollo.

“So would I,” said Mr. George.  “The beginning of this valley,” continued Mr. George “is in the very heart of the most mountainous part of Switzerland, and the River Aar commences there in prodigious cascades and waterfalls, which come down over the cliffs and precipices or gush out from enormous crevices and chasms, and make quite a river at the very beginning.”

“Can we go there and see them?” said Rollo.

“Yes,” replied Mr. George; “I mean to go and see them.  The place is called Meyringen.  The cascades and waterfalls at Meyringen are wonderful.  One of them, the guide book says, makes dreadful work in times of flood.  It comes out from a great chasm in the rocks in the face of a precipice at a vast height from the ground; and, in times of flood, it brings down such a mass of sand, gravel, stones, rubbish, and black mud as sometimes to threaten to overwhelm the village.”

“Is there a village there?” asked Rollo.

“Yes,” said Mr. George; “the village of Meyringen.  This waterfall comes down out of the mountain just back of the village; and they have had to build up an immense wall, a quarter of a mile long and twenty or thirty feet high, to keep the torrent of mud and sand out of the streets.  Once it broke through and filled up the church four feet deep all over the floor with mud, and gravel, and stones.  Some of the stones were bigger than your head.”

Rollo was very much interested in hearing this account of the Fall of Alpbach, ­for that was the name of this unmanageable cataract, ­and expressed a very strong desire to go to Meyringen and see it.

“We will go,” said Mr. George.  “It lies at the head of the valley of the Aar, which we are now entering.  The River Aar, after being formed by these cataracts and cascades, flows through the valley, making two long lakes in its course.  This Lake of Thun is the second one.  The other is the Lake of Brienz.  The upper end of the Lake of Thun is a few miles only from the lower end of the Lake of Brienz; and Interlachen is between the two.”

About an hour after this conversation our two travellers might have been seen sitting together upon the deck of the little steamer which was paddling its way merrily along the lake, and occupying themselves in viewing and talking about the extraordinary spectacle presented by the slopes of the mountains which bordered the lake on either side, and which seemed to shut the lake in, as it were, between two immense walls of green.

Rollo was extremely interested, as he sailed along, in viewing these mountain slopes, exploring the landscape carefully in every part, studying out all the objects of interest which it contained ­the forests, the cultivated fields, the great Swiss cottages, the pasturages, the little chalets, the zigzag paths leading up and down, and all the other picturesque and striking characteristics of a Swiss landscape.

The slopes were very beautiful, and densely inhabited; and they were really very steep, though they looked much steeper than they were, as all hills and slopes do to a person looking upon them from below and facing them.

“It seems,” said Rollo to Mr. George, “as if two broad strips of green country were set up on edge for us to see them as we are sailing along.”

“Yes,” said Mr. George; “with all the houses, farms, pasturages, flocks of sheep, and herds of cattle clinging to the sides of them.”

The chief charm, however, of the views which presented themselves to the young travellers as they glided along the lake was the glittering refulgence of the snow-clad peaks which appeared here and there through openings among the nearer mountains.  The view of these peaks was occasionally obstructed by masses of vapor which were floating along the tops of the mountain ranges; but still they were seen frequently enough to fill the minds both of Rollo and Mr. George with wonder and delight.

After gazing at this scenery for nearly an hour until his curiosity in respect to it was in some measure satisfied, Rollo began to turn his attention to his fellow-travellers on board the steamer.  These travellers were seated singly or in groups about the deck of the little vessel, and they were all tourists, journeying for pleasure.  Here was a small group of young men ­students apparently ­with knapsacks on their backs, spyglasses strapped to their sides, and maps and guide books in their hands.  There was a young lady seated with her father, both dressed for the mountains, and gazing with curiosity and wonder on the views presented along the shores of the lake.  In another place was a family of parents and children ­the father studying a map which he had spread open upon his knees, the mother sitting by his side, silent and thoughtful, as if her mind was far away, dwelling, perhaps, upon the little ones which had been left at home because they were too young to be taken on such a tour.  Some of these people were talking French, some English, and some German.  Rollo looked about upon these various groups for a time, and then said, ­

“Are all these travellers going to see the mountains, do you suppose, uncle George?”

“Yes,” said Mr. George; “I suppose so.  There is very little travelling in Switzerland except pleasure travelling.  I presume they are all going to see the mountains and the other scenery of the country.”

“I should not think that the ladies could climb up the mountains very high,” said Rollo.

“Yes,” said Mr. George, “they can; for in almost all places where people wish to go there are excellent paths.  Where it is too steep for roads the mountaineers make zigzag paths, not only for travellers, but for themselves, in order that they may go up and down to their chalets and pasturages.  The people of the country have been making and improving these paths now for two thousand years or more, and they have got them at last in very excellent condition; so that, except the steepness, they are very easy and very comfortable.”

“Why, uncle George,” said Rollo, “look!”

So saying, Rollo pointed his finger out over the water.  The mountains had suddenly and entirely disappeared.  The vapors and clouds which they had seen floating among them half an hour before had become dense and continuous, and had, moreover, settled down over the whole face of the country in such a manner as to shut out the mountains wholly from view.  Nothing was to be seen but the water of the lake, with a margin of low and level but beautiful country along the shores of it.

In fact, there was nothing but the smallness of the steamer and the costumes and character of the passengers to prevent Rollo and Mr. George from supposing that they were steaming it from New York to Albany, up the North River, in America.