Rode in a _voiture_ from Meyringen to Brienz,
on the opposite end of the lake from Interlachen. Embarked in a
rowboat of four immense oars tied by withs. Two men and one woman
pulled three, and W. and I took turns at the fourth. The boat being
high built, flat bottomed, with awning and flagstaff, rolled and
tipped so easily that soon H., with remorseful visage, abandoned her
attempt to write, and lay down. There is a fresh and savage beauty
about this lake, which can only be realized by rowing across.
Interlachen is underrated in the guide books. It has points of
unrivalled loveliness; the ruins of the old church of Rinconberg, for
example, commanding a fine view of both lakes, of the country between,
and the Alps around, while just at your feet is a little lake in a
basin, some two hundred feet above the other lakes. Then, too, from
your window in the Belvedere, you gaze upon the purity of the
Jungfrau. The church, too, where on Sabbath we attended Episcopal
service, is embowered in foliage, and seems like some New England
village meeting house.
Monday, July 25. Adieu to Interlachen! Ho for Lucerne and the Righi!
Dined at Thun in a thunder storm.
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