Year: 1873

BY Justin Mccarthy in Harper's weeklyl


Few Americans are now to be found any
where who have not been in Switzerland.
Fewer still who, having been in Sw:tzer-
land OF late years, do not know the Beau
Rivage hotel. at Ouchy, the little port of
Lausanne. The Beau-Rivage is the 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 Rivage even in preference
to the pleasant and comfortable hotel Glib
bon, in the town OF Lausanne, although
the grounds of the hotel Gibbon bear the
fame of having been trodden by the bisto-
rian of the Decline and Fall, when, on the
completion of his great life task, he took
his memorable midnight walk, and NOR
allied on what he had done. Nor does
the renown of the old-fashioned Anchor.
at Ouchy-the Ancher in whose best room
Lord Byron. belated, wrote part of one Of
the cantos of Childe Harold, and listened
to Jura answering in thunder the joyous
Alps-offer any serious rivalry to the gay
ETY., the brightness, the walks, the woods,
and the table dhote of the brilliant Beau
Rivage.


Two summers ago I 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 | became parsonage in the story
l am about 10 tell. 1 think there was
enough of the romantic about it to Justify
me in giving it the name which have
adopted as title.


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 relegateJ, as had ex-
pected, to the chalet which is built close
by on the grounds, and which serves as
succursal, or chapel of ease, to the great
building. had hardly had time to con-
graduate myself on my good fortune when
an elderly gentleman came with young
lady (apparently his daughter her maid.
aud courier. They were English; SO
was lat least hailed ftom British terri
tory. They were soon in the midst of q
little dilemma, for there was only one
room left in the hotel Their telegram
had not reached its destination etc.,
etc. The one room in the hotel the
lady could have, and there were rooms in
the chalet at the disposal ofthe gentleman.
But the father and daughter did not like
the separation and to cut all this prelim-
mary matter short. intruded 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
received into the acquaintanceship of the
father. and more distantly into that of the
daughter.


sat near them at dinner that day. The
father was gentlemanly-like, genial per-
son, and | soon learned, without inauiring
good deal about himself and his circum-
stances. He had been q merchant, and
was now retired from business. "Set up
for gentleman, SIR" he said "and 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 widower,
and he was evidently very fond of this
daughter; but one should be dull indeed
who did not see that she was his trouble
His anxious eye was hardly ever off her.
When he spoke to you most freely and
with most animation, he glanced round
every moment towards 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 a devoted father
commonly offers to pet daughter. There
was something of anxiety about it, some-
thing like distrust or fear, or an uneasy
wish to make atonement. 1t reminded me
sometimes of the kind of officious, over
eager attention man who is conscious of
having offended offers TO wife who be-
gins to suspect. 1t was curious, and not
agreeable, to note this, and one could not
help noting it.


At first thought the girl was probably
consumptive, as so many English girls are,
and that the fathers watchfulness only
sprang from his sad knowledge OF her
critical condition. But though she was
pale and somewhat wasted in face, there
was not so far as could judge, any indi.
cation of i'll health about her. Indeed, l
had observed with some admiration, when
first saw the pair, the vigorous, elastic,
graceful rapidity OF her step as she came
across the lawn. She was handsome


girl of the characteristic Anglo-Saxon


mold, with bright hair, and plenty Of it,


fine form, and general appearance OF


spirit and energy, even now that there


certainly was something of paleness on


her cheek, and that she sat silent and mel


ancholy. 49,.


NO" thought. 1.-THE young lady is


not an invalid More likely the young


lady is sulky. She is just the sort Of girl


a fond father would be SIRE to spoil, and
the very eagerness of his attention is only
calculated to keep her out of humor."


Yet whenever She did speak she looked
up TO her father with quite genial and
ailectionate expression and on one or two
occasions. when l had chance Of speak.
ing to her, she answered with a sweetness
of look and tone which showed that at least
she was not sulky with me.


After dinner the young lady retired to
her room; and her father proposed to me
quiet stroll in the grounds and cigar.
gladly assented, and we rambled down
through groves and paths till we stood on
the margin OF the lake. The sun Was
just setting, and the sides. and crests of the
Savoy Alps were suffused with rose-color
and purple and gold. We stood mo-
ment or two In silence, and looked at the
axnn;S;ta soana hoeoro us ..t.