At noon _cocher_ stopped at a village to refresh his horses. We
proceeded to a cool terrace filled with trees, and lulled by the
splash of a fountain, from whence the mountain was in full view. Here
we investigated the mysteries of a certain basket which our provident
hostess had brought with her.
After due refreshment and repose we continued our route, ascending the
Jura, towards the Dole, which is the highest mountain of that range. A
macadamized road coiled up the mountain side, affording us at every
turning a new and more splendid view of the other shore of the lake.
At length we reached St. Cergue, and leaving the carriage, H. and I,
guided by a peasant girl, went through the woods to the highest point,
where were the ruins of the ancient chateau. Far be it from me to
describe what we saw. I feel that I have already been too
presumptuous. We sat down, and each made a hasty sketch of Mont Blanc.
We took tea at the hotel, which reminded us, by the neatness of its
scoured chambers with their white bedspreads, of the apartments of
some out-of-the-way New England farm house.
The people of the neighborhood having discovered who H.
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