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Updated: May 12, 2025
Tuesday, 26. Rode from Langnan to Lucerne just in time to take the boat for Weggis. From the door of the Hotel de la Concorde, at Weggis, the guide chef fitted us out with two chaises a porteur, six carriers, two mules with grooms, making a party of fourteen in all. After ascending a while the scenery became singularly wild and beautiful.
Our run down to Weggis was exhausting from the speed with which it was done, but we soon found ourselves safely and comfortably ensconced at the hotel at Brunnen, where we intended to spend the night previous to proceeding by the St. Gothard into Italy. En passant we might remark on the pleasure of the Lucerne Lake, "out of season."
Not ten minutes have elapsed since I was sitting on the low wall of the churchyard of Weggis, watching the calm glories of the moonlight illuminating with silver splendor the lake of Lucerne; and I am certain there was no one within the inclosure but myself. I am mistaken, surely. What a silence there is upon the night!
They lived at Weggis, on Lake Lucerne, in the Villa Buhlegg a very modest five-franc-a-day pension, for they were economizing and putting away money for the debts. Mark Twain was not in a mood for work, and, besides, proofs of the new book "Following the Equator," as it is now called were coming steadily. It was published in "Harper's Magazine," and now appears in his collected works.
Sleep seemed to have gone altogether, and the busy mind wandered among the continental scenes I had lately visited. By and by I found myself in memory once more within the Weggis churchyard. I was satisfied; I had traced my dream to the cries that I had heard there. I turned round to sleep again.
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