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Updated: June 10, 2025
They will cheat you. Beware of the Raven of Zurich! 'T is a bird of omen ill; With a noisy and an unclean nest, And a very, very long bill. If you go to the Golden Falken you will find it there. I am the author of those lines!" "Bitter as Juvenal!" exclaimed Flemming. "Not in the least bitter," said Mr. Berkley. "It is all true. Go to the Raven and see. But this Interlachen! this Interlachen!
Arriving once more in the Rhone valley, I proceeded to Viesch, and from thence ascended the Aeggischhorn, on which unpleasant eminence I lost my way in a fog, and my temper shortly afterward. Then, after crossing the Grimsel in a severe thunderstorm, I passed on to Brienz, Interlachen and Berne, and thence to Fribourg and Morat, Neuchâtel, Martigny and the St. Bernard.
That adventure at Interlachen seemed to be meant to bring us up short just as we were getting into that line. 'You think we were? 'I was, at least; for I know it was a satisfaction not to find a letter, to say Redclyffe was ready for us. 'I had rather it was Redclyffe than Philip.
It is certainly a long way for any one who takes the high-road, but not so far if he takes a short cut across the mountain, and that just suits a chamois-hunter. I have been that way before, for it leads to the home of my childhood, where, as a little boy, I lived with my grandfather. And there are shooting matches at Interlachen. I will go, and try to stand first in the match.
And then what a burst! "Not seen any! What, two cascades, one glacier, and a four-year-old chamois, lost in one day! What will become of you? Is this the way you make the tour of Switzerland?" Saturday, July 23. Rode in a voiture from Meyringen to Brienz, on the opposite end of the lake from Interlachen. Embarked in a rowboat of four immense oars tied by withs.
I asked for some citrons, which I devoured while changing my clothes. Though completely knocked up, I set out immediately for Interlachen, to reassure those who were awaiting me there. At the foot of the Grindelwald hill, I stopped at Pierre Bohren's châlet to pay a visit to his wife, who held in her arms an infant only a few days old. I embraced it and promised to be its godmother.
But we like to sit here and think of that rosy evening, last summer, when we came walking into Interlachen, and beheld the ghost-like figure of the Jungfrau issuing out of her cloudy palace to welcome the stars, of a cool, bright, autumnal morning on the western battlements overlooking Genoa, the blue Mediterranean below mirroring the silent fleet that lay so motionless on its bosom, of a midnight visit to the Colosseum with a band of German students, who bore torches in and out of the time-worn arches, and sang their echoing songs to the full moon, of days, how many and how magical! when we awoke every morning to say, "We are in Rome!"
There were various other guides in the yard of the inn besides Henry: some were preparing apparently for the ascent of the mountain with other parties; others were bringing up carriages for people who were going to return to Interlachen. Henry, when he saw Mr. George and Rollo coming out, asked them if they were ready. "Yes," said Mr. George. "Bring the horse. You shall ride first, Rollo." Mr.
Dined, and drove by the shore of the lake to Interlachen, arriving just after a brilliant sunset. Thursday, July 21. S. and G. remained at the Belvedere. W., II., and I took a guide and voiture for Lauterbrunn. Here we visited Byron's apocalyptic horse-tail waterfall, the Staubbach. This waterfall is very sublime, all except the water and the fall.
So he was obliged to go to the mill and make inquiries, and there he heard that the miller had gone on a journey to Interlachen, and taken Babette with him, to the great shooting festival, which began that morning, and would continue for eight days, and that people from all the German settlements would be there. Poor Rudy! we may well say. It was not a fortunate day for his visit to Bex.
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