scenery of that remarkable view.

The travellers were an American family, which had long been wandering
about Europe, and which was now destined it knew not whither, having just
traversed a thousand miles of Germany in its devious course. Four years
before, the same family had halted on the same spot, nearly on the same
day of the month of October, and for precisely the same object. It was
then journeying to Italy, and as its members hung over the view of the
Leman, with its accessories of Chillon, Châtelard, Blonay, Meillerie, the
peaks of Savoy, and the wild ranges of the Alps, they had felt regret that
the fairy scene was so soon to pass away. The case was now different, and
yielding to the charm of a nature so noble and yet so soft, within a few
hours, the carriage was in remise, a house was taken, the baggage
unpacked, and the household gods of the travellers were erected, for the
twentieth time, in a strange land.

Our American (for the family had its head) was familiar with the ocean,
and the sight of water awoke old and pleasant recollections. He was
hardly established in Vévey as a housekeeper, before he sought a boat.
Chance brought him to a certain Jean Descloux (we give the spelling at
hazard,) with whom he soon struck up a bargain, and they launched forth in
company upon the lake.

This casual meeting was the commencement of an agreeable and friendly
intercourse. Jean Descloux, besides being a very good boatman, was a
respectable philosopher in his way; possessing a tolerable stock of
general information. His knowledge of America, in particular, might be
deemed a little remarkable. He knew it was a continent, which lay west of
his own quarter of the world; that it had a place in it called New Vévey;
that all the whites who had gone there were not yet black, and that there