Chamonix is a charming place, but one wanted more time just to loaf about and enjoy the views. The Mer de Glace is, perhaps, the most noted glacier in Switzerland; it is within easy distance of Chamonix (about two hours' walk), and it is a wonderful sight, but somehow I can't describe it, it is all too solemn and grand. I always feel the truth of what the Psalmist says about the men that go down to the sea in ships: "These men see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep," and I think the same applies to those who climb into the heights of the mountains, but I suppose he had not had that opportunity!
We left Chamonix with regret, and walked from there over the Col de Balme to Martigny; I think it was about twenty miles, but you can walk twice as far in Switzerland as you can in England without being tired, the air is so clear and bracing. It was a lovely tramp, beautiful flowers and ferns, and rushing streams and waterfalls; the last part of the way was trying, as it was very steep going down into Martigny, and the path was paved with little cobbles, so that we arrived rather footsore.
From there we trained to Glion, a very favourite place with us, just perched above Chillon, with lovely views of Lake Leman, of Chillon Castle, and the fine old Dent de Midi at the end of the lake, and it is within easy walking distance of Montreux. There are many nice walks and climbs about Glion, and the flowers—gentians, narcissi, &c.—were perfectly lovely.
Then we had to turn homewards, and found that we could spare only one night again in Paris (we had meant to stay longer): still it gave us a little more time to examine the treasures of the Louvre.
We had a small excitement in the afternoon. We had been walking through the flower market when a shower of rain came on. We sheltered under one of the stalls, and while we were there we heard what we thought was a sharp clap of thunder, but it proved to be a bomb exploding in the Place de la Concorde, but no one was seriously hurt.
When we got back to London it was very busy with preparations for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, which was duly celebrated with much rejoicing all over the country before I returned to work in town.
Now, I had better explain why I am leaving here. I have promised to go as nurse to one of the hotels up the Nile (either to Luxor or Assouan, where they always have a doctor and one nurse through the winter season), with a patient who has spent the last eight winters in Egypt. He is now very ill, and still he wants to go, as he can live so much more comfortably in that climate. His mother can't go with him at present, and they can't bear to let him go alone, so I have promised to go to see him through the voyage (we are going by long sea) and to be at hand in case he should get worse before his mother can join him.
You know I love travelling, so in a way I am glad, but I don't think I am fitted for private nursing, and I am a bit nervous, and also it will be anxious work if my patient gets worse out there, but somehow I could not refuse. It is just horrid saying good-bye to every one and everything here.
I will write again soon from the sunny south.