Charney, August 6th, 1831.
My dear Sisters,
You have, I know, read Ritter's "Afrika" from beginning to end, but still I do not think you know where Charney is situated, so fetch out Keller's old travelling map, that you may be able to accompany me on my wanderings. Trace with your finger a line from Vevay to Clarens, and thence to the Dent de Jaman; this line represents a footpath; and where your finger has been my legs also went this morning—for it is now only half-past seven, and I am still fasting. I mean to breakfast here, and am writing to you in a neat wooden room, waiting till the milk is made warm for me; without, I have a view of the bright blue lake; and so I now begin my journal, and mean to continue it as I best can during my pedestrian tour.
After breakfast.—Heavens! here is a pretty business. My landlady has just told me with a long face, that there is not a creature in the village to show me the way across the Dent, or to carry my knapsack, except a young girl; the men being all at work. I usually set off every morning very early and quite alone, with my bundle on my shoulders, because I find the guides from the inns both too expensive and too tiresome; a couple of hours later I hire the first honest-looking lad I see, and so I travel famously on foot. I need not say how enchanting the lake and the road hither were; you must recall for yourself all the beauties you once enjoyed there. The footpath is in continued shade, under walnut-trees and up hill,—past villas and castles,—along the lake which glitters through the foliage; villages everywhere, and brooks and streams rushing along from every nook, in every village; then the neat tidy houses,—it is all quite too charming, and you feel so fresh and so free. Here comes the girl with her steeple hat. I can tell you she is vastly pretty into the bargain, and her name is Pauline; she has just packed my things into her wicker basket. Adieu!