On the 21st of October of last year, on a brilliant afternoon, the men of Schwyz and Uri went forth again from Brunnen, with the chief magistracy of the land.  From Treib came the Unterwaldners, all in richly decorated boats, and the inhabitants of Lucerne in two steamboats with much music, meeting in front of the Mytenstein, which lifts its colossal front eighty feet above the water there.  The top of it was covered with a large boat-sail, with the arms of the original Cantons and Swiss mottoes on it; in a wreath of evergreen, the arms of the other Cantons; in the middle of it, in token of the twenty-two Cantons, a white cross upon red ground; above all, the flag of the Confederacy spread to the Foehn.  At the foot was a little stand made of twigs for the speaker, about which the little fleet was grouped, under the charge of the Landammann Aufdermauer of Brunnen, a gallant gentleman, host of the Golden Eagle, with his kind little sister, of whom we spoke at the beginning.

When all was still, Uri opens the musical trilogy,—­the words by P. Gall.  Morell, monk of Einsiedeln, the music by Baumgartner of Zuerich; Unterwalden takes up the burden; then Schwyz; then all three in chorus;—­and the echo of the fresh voices among the rocks there was as in a cathedral.  Then Landammann Styger climbs to the stand, and makes a little speech, and reads a letter from Schiller’s daughter, (of which presently,) while the curious shepherd-boys stretch out their necks over the craggy tops of the Selisberg to look down upon the lively scene below.

At the end of his speech, Styger lets fall the sail amid the beating of the drums and the shouts of the multitude; and on the flat sides of the rock appear the gilded metal letters, a foot high,—­“To the Singer of Tell, Fr. Schiller, the Original Cantons, 1859.”  And there were other little speeches,—­one by Lusser, who exclaims with much truth, “The rocks of our mountains can be broken, but not bent”; and then followed the Swiss psalm by Zwysig.  And afterwards, in the evening, a feast in the Golden Eagle in Brunnen, at which, with the ancient sobriety, they remember the dangers of the present, and affirm their neutrality, which should not hang upon the caprice of a neighbor, but be grounded in their own will, for there is no Lord in Christendom for them except Him who is above all.

Thus wrote Schiller’s daughter:—­

"Gentlemen of the Committee of the Schiller Memorial on the Mytenstein:—­

“Your friendly words have truly delighted and deeply moved my heart;—­ not less the engraving of the Mytenstein, which shall stand as the very worthy and noble memorial of the Singer of Wilhelm Tell in the land of the Swiss for all time forever,—­a token of recognition of the genius which, struggling for the highest good of mankind, has found its home in the hearts of all noble men and women.  With infinite joy I greeted the beautiful idea, so wholly worthy of the land as of the poet,—­there, where magnificent Nature, grown friendly, offers its hand on the very ground where one of the noblest, most finished creations of Schiller takes root, to consecrate to him a memorial which, defying time and storms, shall illumine afar off every heart which turns to it.