I had received a visit the day before from a principal inhabitant of Vevey, with an invitation to breakfast, at his country-house, on the heights.  This gratuitous civility was not to be declined, though it was our desire to be quiet, as we considered the residence at Vevey, a sort of villagiatura, after Paris.  Accordingly, I got into a char, and climbed the mountain for a mile and a half, through beautiful pastures and orchards, by narrow winding lanes, that, towards the end, got to be of a very primitive character.  Without this little excursion, I should have formed no just idea of the variety in the environs of the place, and should have lost a good deal of their beauty.  I have told you that this acclivity rises behind the town, for a distance exceeding a mile, but I am now persuaded it would have been nearer the truth had I said a league.  The majesty of Swiss nature constantly deceives the eye, and it requires great care and much experience to prevent falling into these mistakes.  The house I sought, stood on a little natural terrace, a speck on the broad breast of the mountain, or what would be called a mountain, were it not for the granite piles in its neighbourhood, and was beautifully surrounded by woods, pastures, and orchards.  We were above the vine.

A small party, chiefly females, of good manners and great good sense, were assembled, and our entertainment was very much what it ought to be, simple, good, and without fuss.  After I had been formally presented to the rest of the company, a young man approached, and was introduced as a countryman.  It was a lieutenant of the navy, who had found his way up from the Mediterranean squadron to this spot.  It is so unusual to meet Americans under such circumstances, that his presence was an agreeable surprise.  Our people abound in the taverns and public conveyances, but it is quite rare that they are met in European society at all.

One of the guests to-day recounted an anecdote of Cambacere’s, which was in keeping with a good banquet.  He and the arch-chancelier were returning from a breakfast in the country, together, when he made a remark on the unusual silence of his companion.  The answer was, “Je digere.”

We walked through the grounds, which were prettily disposed, and had several good look-outs.  From one of the latter we got a commanding view of all the adjacent district.  This acclivity is neither a cote, as the French call them, nor a hill-side, nor yet a mountain, but a region.  Its breadth is sufficiently great to contain hamlets, as you already know, and, seen from this point, the town of Vevey came into the view, as a mere particle.  The head of the lake lay deep in the distance, and it was only when the eye rose to the pinnacles of rock, hoary with glaciers above, that one could at all conceive he was not already perched on a magnificent Alp.  The different guests pointed out their several residences, which were visible at the distance of miles, perhaps, all seated on the same verdant acclivity.