...  We slipped off without any leave-taking, which I was not sorry for.  I did not want to bid you good-bye.  We had to say it far too often as it was, and, when we fairly set sail we had not an emotion left, but sank at once into a state of entire exhaustion and stupidity....  We thought Paris very beautiful until we came in view of the Lake of Geneva, Mt.  Blanc, and other handiworks of God, when straightway all its palaces and monuments and fountains faded into insignificance.  I began to feel that it was wicked for a few of my friends, who were born to enjoy the land of lakes and mountains, not to be here enjoying it, and you were one of them, you may depend.  However, whenever I have had any such pangs of regret in relation to you, I have consoled myself with the reflection that with your enthusiastic temperament, artist eye, and love of nature, you never would survive even a glimpse of Switzerland; the land of William Tell would be the death of you.  When you are about eighty years old, have cooled down about ten degrees below zero, have got a little dim about the eyes, and a little stiff about the knees, it may possibly be safe for you to come and break yourself in gradually.  I have not forgotten how you felt and what you did at the White Mountains, you see.

Well, joking apart, we are in a spot that would just suit you in every respect.  We are not in a street or a road or any of those abominations you like to shun, but our little chalet, hardly accessible save on foot, is just tucked down on the side of the gentle slope leading up the mountain.  It is remote from all sights but those magnificent ones afforded by the range of mountains, the green rich valley, and the ever-varying sky and cloudland, and all sounds save that of a brook which runs hurrying down its rocky little channel and keeps us company when we want it.  I ought, however, to add that my view of this particular valley is that of a novice.  People say the scenery here is tame in comparison with what may be seen elsewhere; but look which way I will, from front windows or back windows, at home or abroad, I am as one at a continual feast; and what more can one ask?  Mr. Prentiss feels that this secluded spot is just the place for him, and as it is a good point from which to make excursions on foot or otherwise, he and Mr. Stearns have already made several trips and seen splendid sights.  How much we have to be grateful for!  For my part, I would rather—­far rather—­have come here and stayed here blindfold, than not to have come with my dear husband.  So all I have seen and am experiencing I regard as beauty and felicity thrown in.

To Mrs. Abigail Prentiss, Chateau d’Oex, Sept. 5, 1858.