Prentiss not in the least; his chief discomfort was from want of sleep.  On the whole, we had a less dreary time than we anticipated, and perhaps the stupidity in which we were engulfed for two weeks was a wholesome refuge from the excitement of the month previous to our departure.  We landed in a deluge of rain, and the only article in our possession that alarmed the officers of the Custom House was not the sewing-machine, which was hardly vouchsafed a look, but your cake-box.  We were thankful to tumble pell-mell into a carriage, and soon to find ourselves in a comfortable room, before a blazing fire.  We go round with a phrase-book and talk out of it, so if anybody ever asks you what sort of people the Prentiss family are and what are our conversational powers, you may safely and veraciously answer, “They talk like a book.”  M. already asks the French names of almost everything and is very glad to know that “we have got at Europe,” and when asked how she likes France, declares, “Me likes that.”  We go off to Paris in the morning.  I will let Mr. Prentiss tell his own story.  Meanwhile we send you everyone our warmest love and thanks.

After a few days in Paris the family hastened to Chateau d’Oex, where New York friends awaited them.  Chateau d’Oex is a mountain valley in the canton of Vaud, on the right bank of the Sarine, twenty-two miles east of Lausanne, and is one of the loveliest spots in Switzerland.  Aside from its natural beauties, it has some historical interest.  It was once the home of the Counts of Gruyere, and the ruins of their ancient chateau are still seen there.  The Free church of the village was at this time under the care of Pastor Panchaud, a favorite pupil and friend of Vinet.  He was a man of great simplicity and sweetness of character, an excellent preacher, and wholly devoted to his little flock.  Mrs. Prentiss and her husband counted his society and ministrations a smile of Heaven upon their sojourn in Chateau d’Oex.

To Mrs. Henry B. Smith, Chateau D’Oex July 25, 1858.

Our ride from Havre to Paris was charming.  We had one of those luxurious cars, to us unknown, which is intended to hold only eight persons, but which has room for ten; the weather was perfect, and the scenery all the way very lovely and quite novel.  A. and I kept mourning for you and M. to enjoy it with us, and both agreed that we would gladly see only half there was to see, and go half the distance we were going, if we could only share with you our pleasures of every kind.  On reaching Paris and the hotel we found we could not get pleasant rooms below the fifth story.  They were directly opposite the garden of the Tuileries, where birds were flying and singing, and it was hard to realise that we were in the midst of that great city.  We went sight-seeing very little.  A. and I strolled about here and there, did a little shopping, stared in at the shop windows, wished M. had this and you had that, and then