The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth, Vol. 2

Excerpt

I am sure that you have heard of us, and of all we have done and seen from Edgeworthstown as far as Berne:  from thence we went to Thun:  there we took char-à-bancs, little low carriages, like half an Irish jaunting car, with four wheels, and a square tarpaulin awning over our heads.  Jolting along on these vehicles, which would go over a house, I am sure, without being overturned or without being surprised, we went—­the Swiss postillion jolting along at the same round rate up and down, without ever looking back to see whether the carriages and passengers follow, yet now and then turning to point to mountains, glaciers, and cascades.  The valley of Lauterbrunn is beautiful; a clear, rushing cascady stream rushes through it:  fine chestnuts, walnuts, and sycamores scattered about, the verdure on the mountains between the woods fresh and bright.  Pointed mountains covered with snow in the midst of every sign of flowery summer strike us with a sense of the sublime which never grows familiar.  The height of the Staubach waterfall, which we saw early in the morning, astonished my mind, I think, more than my eyes, looking more like thin vapour than water—­more like strings of water; and I own I was disappointed, after all I had heard of it.