May his limbs be weary, and his feet sore;
May the innkeepers give him tough mutton and
Sour wine, and charge him for it as though he were
Lord Sir John, M.P.!”
“How very amusing!—a perfect gem in its way,” cried Anna. “Lord Sir John, M.P., must have been the model of large-pursed Britons in his time.” Here, however, everything seemed to be couleur de rose. The book’s only fault was its monotony of praise. Two sisters keep the hotel, and “nowhere,” said its devoted friends, “could one find better fare, better attendance, and greater happiness than at Tell’s Platform.” The testimony of a young couple confessedly on their bridal tour had no weight. We know how, at that moment, a barren rock transforms itself into a paradise for them; but three maiden ladies had passed six weeks of unalloyed enjoyment here once upon a time, and had returned often since; English clergymen and their families found no words of praise too strong; while German students and professors indulged in rhapsodical language not to be equalled out of fatherland.
Duchesses, princesses, and Lords Sir John, M.P., were alone wanting amongst the present guests. “But they come,” said Herr H——, “by the mid-day steamers, dine and rest here awhile, and return in the evenings to the larger hotels in other places.”
And standing on the balcony of the salon, facing all the grand mountains, with the green lake beneath, it truly seemed a spot made for brides and bridegrooms, for love and friendship. So absorbed were we in admiration of the enchanting view that we did not at first notice two little maidens sitting at the far end. They were pretty children, of nine and thirteen, daughters of an English family stopping here, and their countenances brightened as they heard our exclamation of delight; for Tell’s Platte was to them a paradise. Like true Britons, however, they said nothing until George and Caroline commenced disputing about the scenery. Comment then was irresistible. “No,” said the youngest, “that is the Isenthal,” pointing to a valley beneath the hills opposite; “and that the Urirothstock, with its glacier above, and the Gütschen. Those straight walls of rock below are the Teufel’s-Münster.”
“Don’t you remember where Schiller says:
‘The blast, rebounding from the Devil’s Minster,
Has driven them back on the great Axenberg’?