and with all the warmth of heart and imagination which is thought to
belong only to youth.

We went into a wooden gallery reaching from one side of the house to the
other, at one end of which was a table, where she had been writing when
we arrived. We often took leave, but were loth to depart. Dumont luckily
asked if she could direct us to a fine old chateau in the neighbourhood,
which we had been told was particularly well worth seeing--Viernon. "It
is my brother's," she said, and she would go with us and show it. The
carriage was sent round to the high road, and we went by a walk along a
river, romantically beautiful. Just as we came to a cascade and a wooden
bridge, a little pug dog came running down, and the Baron and Madame de
Polier appeared. Madame de Montolieu ran on to her brother, and
explained who we were. Madame is an Englishwoman, and, to my surprise, I
found she was niece to my father's old friend, Mr. Mundy of Markeaton.
We were all very sorry to part with Madame de Montolieu; however, we
returned to Lausanne, and Dumont in the evening read out _Le
Somnambule_--very laughable when so well read.


PREGNY, _Sept. 20_.

Next day beautiful drive to Vevay, as you know. After visiting Chillon,
where Lord Byron's name and _coat of arms_ are cut upon Bonnivar's
pillar, I read the poem again, and think it most sublime and pathetic.
How can that man have perverted so much feeling as was originally given
to him!

Have you been at St. Maurice? If you have not, I cannot give you an idea
of the surprise and delight we felt at the first sight of the view going