Year: 1873

By Justin Mccarthy in Harper's Weekly.]

 Few Americans are now to be found anywhere who have not been in Switzer- Switzerland of late years, do not know the Beau u-Rivage hotel, at Ouchy the lit tie port of Lausanne. The Beau -Rivage is tie vast palace, standing in what may almost be called park, which looks across Lake Leman to the Savoy Alps. Tourists of late years have naturally enough poured into the Beau -Rivage even in preference to the pleasant and comfort able Hotel Gibbon, in the town of Lau- same, although the grounds of the Hotel Gibbon bear the fame of having been trodden by the historian of the Decline and Fall, when. on the completion of his great life task, he took his memorable midnight walk, and moralized on what he had done. Nor does the renown of the old fashioned Anchor, at Ouchy-the An chor in whose best room Lord Byron, be- lated, wrote part of one of the cantos of Childe Harold, and listened to Jura an- swering in thunder the joyous Alps-offer any serious rivalry to the gayety, the brightness, the woods, and the table d'hote of the brilliant Beau-Rivage.

 Two summers ago happened to visit Lausanne and the Beau -Rivage, and while there chance threw me in the way of form ing an acquaintanceship by means of which l became a parsonage Tn the story I am about to tell. I think there was enough of the romance about it to justify me in giving it the name which have adopted as title. j.

 I arrived at the hotel by train from St. Michel, one morning, and was lucky enough to get room in the hotel itself, instead of being relegated, as I had ex- pected, to the chalet which is built close by on the grounds, and which serves as a cuccursal, or chapel of ease, to the great building. I had hardly had time to con- gratulate myself on my good fortune when an elderly gentleman came with a young lady (apparently his daughter), her maid, and courier. They were En. fish; so was lat least hailed from Brit ish territory. They were soon in the midst of 8 little dilemma, for there was only one room left in the hotel. Their telegram had not reached, etc., etc. The one room in the hotel the lady could have, and there were rooms in the chalet at the disposal of the gentleman. But the fa- ther and daughter did not like the sepa- ration; and to cut all this preliminary matter short, Hntruded myself on the field of debate. offered to give up my room to the elderly gentleman, prevailed upon him to accept it, was largely thanked for very small favor, and was at once re- ceived into the acquaintanceship of the father, and more distantly into that of the daughter.

 satnear them::at dinnner that day. The father was gentlemanly like, genial per son, and soon learned, without inqui- ring, 8 good deal about himself and his circumstances. He had been merchant and was now retired from business. 'sSet up for gentleman. sir, he said, ''and I find it rather dull trade" Many things about his life and his ways he told me, but there was one thing he did not tell, and which yet soon guessed at-his great trouble was his daughter. He was 8 widower, and he was evidently very fond of this daughter; but one would be dull indeed who did not see that she was his I trouble. His anxious eye was hardly ever off her. When he spoke to you most free | ly and with most animation, he glanced round every moment toward his daughter. He was necessarily asking her how she liked this dish or that, would she prefer some other seat, would she not have some wine, and so forth. The attention he paid her was not like that which devoted fa- ther commonly offers to pet daughter. l There was something of anxiety about 1t,