Chapter 1

Day glimmered and I went, a gentle breeze
Ruffling the Leman lake.

Rogers.

The year was in its fall, according to a poetical expression of our own,
and the morning bright, as the fairest and swiftest bark that navigated
the Leman lay at the quay of the ancient and historical town of Geneva,
ready to depart for the country of Vaud. This vessel was called the
Winkelried, in commemoration of Arnold of that name, who had so generously
sacrificed life and hopes to the good of his country, and who deservedly
ranks among the truest of those heroes of whom we have well-authenticated
legends. She had been launched at the commencement of the summer, and
still bore at the fore-top-mast-head a bunch of evergreens, profusely
ornamented with knots and streamers of riband, the offerings of the
patron's female friends, and the fancied gage of success. The use of
steam, and the presence of unemployed seamen of various nations, in this
idle season of the warlike, are slowly leading to innovations and
improvements in the navigation of the lakes of Italy and Switzerland, it
is true; but time, even at this hour, has done little towards changing the
habits and opinions of those who ply on these inland waters for a
subsistence. The Winkelried had the two low, diverging masts; the
attenuated and picturesquely-poised latine yards; the light, triangular
sails; the sweeping and projecting gangways; the receding and falling
stern; the high and peaked prow, with, in general, the classical and
quaint air of those vessels that are seen in the older paintings and
engravings. A gilded ball glittered on the summit of each mast, for no
canvass was set higher than the slender and well-balanced yards, and it
was above one of these that the wilted bush, with its gay appendages,
trembled and fluttered in a fresh western wind. The hull was worthy of so
much goodly apparel, being spacious, commodious, and, according to the
wants of the navigation, of approved mould. The freight, which was
sufficiently obvious, much the greatest part being piled on the ample
deck, consisted of what our own watermen would term an assorted cargo. It
was, however, chiefly composed of those foreign luxuries, as they were
then called, though use has now rendered them nearly indispensable to
domestic economy, which were consumed, in singular moderation, by the more
affluent of those who dwelt deeper among the mountains, and of the two
principal products of the dairy; the latter being destined to a market in
the less verdant countries of the south. To these must be added the
personal effects of an unusual number of passengers, which were stowed on
the top of the heavier part of the cargo, with an order and care that
their value would scarcely seem to require. The