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Castle. Our nicely cushioned
Hotel Omnibus takes us to the Depot
9 1/2 AM, where we find Mrs Palmer and
Daughter awaiting us. As usual
we are locked into the waiting room until
five or six minutes before the departure
then rush out pell mell, and our “first [Sketch: view from bridge]
class” tickets finds but few competitors, the rush always being for
2nd class places. Chatting cosily we whirl along the north
bank of the Lake through the beautiful narrow valley at the base
of the vineclad slopes facing the water, past charming villas, through
luxurient orchards, with an entire absences [sic] of fences everywhere.
A delightful cloudless day revealed the mountainous shore upon
the opposite side of the Lake in all its loveliness, with her and
there a vessel spreading its white lateen sails like a butterfly
or a floating chip.
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In three quarters of an hour we reach our
haven, the antique little village of Nyon, where
after a ten minutes walk down through the crooked
narrow streets (but clean, well paved, and filled with little
narrow-front shops) we reach the residence and office of
Dr. Lambossy, the “great man in a small place”.
The servant leaves us in his reception room while one
lady at a time is admitted into his presence, Miss
Susy [sic] translating his French. For two and half hours
I amuse myself with his books, papers and pictures.