"Father," said Rollo to Mr. Holiday, at dinner one day, "what are you going to do this evening?"

"We are going to see Mont Blanc go out," said his father.

Mr. Holiday answered Rollo in French, using a phrase very common in Geneva to denote the gradual fading away of the rosy light left upon Mont Blanc by the setting sun; for the sun, just at the time of its setting, gilds the mountain with a peculiar rosy light, as if it were a cloud. This light gradually fades away as the sun goes down, until the lower part of the mountain becomes of a dead and ghostly white, while the roseate hue still lingers on the summit, as if the top of the mountain were tipped with flame. These last beams finally disappear, and then the whole expanse of snow assumes a deathlike and wintry whiteness. The inhabitants of Geneva, and those who live in the environs, often go out to their gardens and summer houses in the summer evenings, just as the sun is going down, to see, as they express it, Mont Blanc go out;[E] and strangers who visit Geneva always desire, if they can, to witness the spectacle. There are, however, not a great many evenings in the year when it can be witnessed to advantage, the mountain is so often enveloped in clouds.

Rollo had heard the phrase before, and he knew very well what his father meant.

"Well," said he, in a tone of satisfaction; "and may I go too?"

"Yes," said his father; "we should like to have you go very much. But there is a question to be decided—how we shall go. The best point of view is somewhere on the shore along the lake, on the other side of the bridge. There are three ways of going. We can walk across the bridge, and then follow the road along the shore till we come to a good place, or we can take a carriage, and order the coachman to drive out any where into the neighborhood, where there is a good view of the mountain, or we can go in a boat."

"In a boat, father!" said Rollo, eagerly. "Let us go in a boat!"

"The objection to that," said Mr. Holiday, "is, that it is more trouble to go and engage a boat. There are plenty of carriages here at the very door, and I can have one at a moment's notice, by just holding up my finger."

"And, father," said Rollo, "so there are plenty of boats right down here by the quay, and I can get one of them in a moment, just by holding up my finger."

"Well," said Mr. Holiday, "we will go in a boat if you will take all the trouble of engaging one."

Rollo liked nothing better than this, and as soon as dinner was over he went out upon the quay to engage a boat, while his father and mother went up to their room to get ready to go.

Rollo found plenty of boats at the landing. Some of them were very pretty. He chose one which seemed to have comfortable seats in it for his father and mother. It was a boat, too, that had the American flag flying at the stern. Some of the boatmen get American flags, and raise them on their boats, out of compliment to their numerous American customers.

Soon after Rollo had engaged the boat, his father and mother came, and they all embarked on board. The boatman rowed them off from the shore. The sun was just going down. There were a great many boats plying to and fro about the lake, and the quays and the little islet were crowded with people.

After rowing about a quarter of a mile, the boatman brought the range of the Alps into full view through an opening between the nearer hills. The sun was shining full upon them, and illuminating them with a dazzling white light, very beautiful, but without any rosy hue.

"They don't look rosy at all," said Rollo.

"No," said Mr. Holiday, "not now. They do not take the rosy hue till the sun has gone down."

The boatman rowed on a little farther, so as to obtain a still better view. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday watched the mountains; but Rollo was more interested in the scene immediately around him. He watched the boats that were plying to and fro over the surface of the lake, and the different parties of ladies and gentlemen in them. He gazed on the quays, too, all around, and on the islet, which was not far off, and on the people that he saw there, some walking to and fro, and others leaning over the parapet and looking out upon the water.

"Rollo," said Mr. Holiday, "see if there is a rudder."

"Yes, father, there is," said Rollo. So saying, he climbed over the seats, between his father and mother, and took his place by the rudder.

"Steer us, then, over to the opposite shore, wherever you see there is a pleasant place to land."

Rollo was glad and sorry both to receive this command. He was glad to have the pleasure of steering, but he was sorry that his father intended to land. He would have preferred remaining out upon the water.

He, however, obeyed his father's command, and steered towards the farther shore, turning the head of the boat in an oblique direction, a little way up the lake. Presently Mr. Holiday saw some friends of his in a boat that was coming in the opposite direction. He ordered Rollo to steer towards them. Rollo did so, and soon the boats came alongside. The oarsmen of both boats stopped rowing, and the two parties in them came to a parley.

There was a little girl in the other boat, named Lucia. There was no other child in that boat, and so there was nobody for Lucia to play with. Lucia therefore asked her father and mother to allow her to get over into Mr. Holiday's boat, so that she could have somebody to play with.

"Why, Lucia," said her mother, "Rollo is a great boy. He is too big to play with you."

"I know it," said Lucia; "but then he is better than nobody."

Rollo might perhaps have been made to feel somewhat piqued at being considered by a young lady as only better than nobody for a companion, had it not been for the nature of the objection, which was only that he was too large. So he felt complimented rather than otherwise, and he cordially seconded Lucia's wish that she might be transferred to his father's boat, and at length her mother consented. Lucia stepped carefully over the gunwales, and thus got into Mr. Holiday's boat. She immediately passed along to the stern, and took her place by the side of Rollo at the rudder. The boats then separated from each other, and each went on its own way.

"What is this handle," said Lucia, "that you are taking hold of?"

"It is the tiller," said Rollo.

"And what is it for?" asked Lucia.

"It is the handle of the rudder," said Rollo. "The rudder is what we steer the boat by, and the tiller is the handle of it. The rudder itself is down below the water."

So Rollo let Lucia look over the end of the boat and see the rudder in the water.

Rollo then proceeded to explain the operation of the rudder.

"You see," said he, "that when I move the tiller over this way, then the head of the boat turns the other way; and when I move it over that way, then the head of the boat comes round this way. The head of the boat always goes the contrary way."

"I don't see why it should go the contrary way," said Lucia. "I should think it ought to go the same way."

"No," replied Rollo; "it goes the contrary way. And now I am going to steer to a good place to land on the shore over there."

So saying, Rollo pointed to the shore towards which the boat was going.

The boat was now drawing near the shore. There was first a landing, where several small vessels were drawn up, and immense piles of wood in great wood yards.

This wood had a very singular appearance. The bark was all off, and the ends of the logs looked rounded and worn, as if they had been washed in the water. The reason was, that the wood had grown on the sides of the mountains, and had been brought down to the lake by the torrents which pour down the mountain sides with great force in time of rain.

"We won't land in the wood yards—will we?" said Rollo.

"No," said Lucia; "but there's a pretty place to land, a little farther on."

So saying, Lucia pointed to a very pretty part of the shore, a little farther on. There seemed to be a garden, and a little green lawn, with large trees overshadowing it; and at one place there was a projecting point where there was a summer house with a table in it, and a seat outside, near the beach, under a bower.

"Yes," said Rollo; "that is a very pretty place; but it looks like private ground. I think we must not land there."

As the boat glided by this place, Rollo and Lucia saw some ladies and gentlemen sitting in the summer house. The gentlemen took off their hats and bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Holiday as they passed by.

Next the boat came to a place where there was a low parapet wall along the shore, and behind it were to be seen the heads of a number of men who seemed to be sitting at tables, and drinking coffee or beer.

"Here is a good place to land," said Lucia.

"No," said Rollo; "this seems to be some sort of public place, full of men. We had better go a little farther."

So Rollo steered on, keeping all the time at just a safe distance from the shore. The water was most beautifully transparent and clear, so that all the pretty stones and pebbles on the bottom could be seen very distinctly at a great depth.

"What pretty water!" said Lucia.

"Yes," said Rollo, "it is so clear."

"What makes it so clear?" asked Lucia.

"Because the lake is so long," said Rollo, "and this is the lower end of it, and the water has time to settle. At the other end, where the water comes in, it is not so clear. This is the end where the water runs out."

A moment afterwards they came to a very pleasant landing, at a place where the road lay pretty near the water. Between the road and the water, however, there was a space of green grass, with large trees overshadowing it, and several wooden settees, painted green, under the trees.

"Ah!" said Rollo, "here is just the place for us.

"Father," he added, "do you think it would be a good plan to land here?"

"Yes," said his father; "we could not have had a better place. I thought you would find a pleasant landing for us if I gave you the command."

So Rollo brought the boat up to the shore, and they all got out. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday walked up and took their seats on one of the settees, while Rollo and Lucia began to run about and play along the parapet wall which separated the promenade from the water.

Mr. and Mrs. Holiday watched the mountains. The sun had now just gone down, though his beams still tipped the summits of the hills, and were reflected from the windows of the distant houses. The snow on the mountains, too, began to assume a very beautiful rosy hue, which increased in brilliancy the farther the sun went down, and the more the lower lands became darkened.

"How beautiful it is!" said Mrs. Holiday.

"It is very beautiful indeed," said her husband.

"Rollo," said Mrs. Holiday, "look at Mont Blanc. See how bright and rosy he looks."

"Yes, mother," said Rollo; "and look out on the lake, and see the heads of those two boys swimming in the water."

"Are those the heads of boys?" asked Mrs. Holiday.

"Yes, mother," said Rollo; "see how far they are swimming out."

When Mrs. Holiday looked back at the mountain, she found, to her great disappointment, that the rosy color which had appeared so beautiful a moment before had now disappeared; and the whole snowy side of the range, up to the summits of the loftiest peaks, was of a cold, dead white, as if the rays of the sun had been entirely withdrawn.

"Ah! look!" she said to Mr. Holiday, in a tone of disappointment; "Mont Blanc has gone out while we have been looking another way."

Mr. Holiday gazed intently at the mountain, and very soon he saw the rosy tint beginning to appear again on one of the summits, more brilliant than ever.

"No," said he, "the sun has not gone. I thought it could not have gone down so soon. There must have been a cloud in the way."

While Mr. Holiday had been speaking, the rekindling of the mountain had gone on apace, and now the whole side of it was all in a glow.

Just at this instant Rollo heard the sound of a gun. Lucia started and looked alarmed.

"What is that gun?" said Rollo; "and where was it? Let us look for the smoke."

So Rollo and Lucia, leaning over the parapet, began to look all about among the boats and vessels of the lake, and along the opposite shore, in the direction from which the sound of the report had seemed to come, and very soon their eyes rested upon a volume of blue smoke which was ascending from the bows of a little vessel that had just come in, and was floating off gracefully into the air.

"It is that vessel that has just got in," said Rollo.

"Rollo," said Mrs. Holiday, "look at the mountain."

Rollo turned his eye for a moment towards the mountain. All the lower part of it was of a cold and deathlike whiteness, while the tip of the summit was glowing as if it had been on fire. He was, however, too much interested in the smoke of the gun to look long at the mountain.

"Hark!" said he to Lucia; "let us see if they will not fire again."

They did not fire again; and just as Rollo began to give up expecting that they would, his attention, as well as that of Lucia, was attracted to a little child who was playing with a small hammer in the gravel not far from where they were standing. The mother of the child was sitting on a bench near by, knitting. The hammer was small, and the claw of it was straight and flat. The child was using it for a hoe, to dig a hole in the gravel.

"Now," said Rollo, "if I could find a shingle any where about here, I would make that child a shovel to dig with."

Rollo looked about, but there was nothing like a shingle to be seen.

In a few minutes his father called him.

"Rollo," said he, "we are going back. Mont Blanc has gone out. See!"

Rollo looked. He saw that the last lingering rays of the sun had gone from the summit of the mountain, though they still gilded a small rounded cloud that floated just above it in the sky.

"Yes, sir," said Rollo. "I'll go and call the boat."

"We are not going back in the boat," said Mr. Holiday; "we have concluded to walk round by land, and over the bridge. It will be better for Lucia to go with us; but you may do as you please. You may walk with us, or go in the boat with the boatman."

Rollo at first thought that he should prefer to go in the boat; but he finally concluded to accompany his father and mother. So the whole party returned together by a pleasant road which led through a village by the shore.

When they came out to the quay they heard a band of music playing. The band was stationed on the little islet which has already been described. The party stopped on the bridge to listen; at least Mr. and Mrs. Holiday listened, but Rollo and Lucia occupied themselves the while in looking down in the clear depths of the water, which was running so swiftly and so blue beneath the piers of the bridge, and watching to see if they could see any fishes there. Lucia thought at one time that she saw one; but Rollo, on examining the spot, said it was only a little crevice of the rock wiggling.

"What makes it wiggle?" asked Lucia.

"The little waves and ripples of the current," said Rollo.

When Rollo reached the hotel, a gentleman who met the party in the hall said to him,—

"Well, Rollo, have you been to see Mont Blanc go out?"

"Yes, sir," said Rollo.

"And how did you like it?" said the gentleman.

"I liked it very much indeed," said Rollo. "I think it was sublime."