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He gazed with rapture over the beautiful Lake of Zürich below him and remembered the adventures that had happened on these roads not long before. For this summer he had twice travelled to Schmerikon. The first time with the pastor, the amiable shepherd of his soul, and Herr Hottinger, when they were going on a journey. [...]. Our dear pastor's wife had provisioned us with bread-rolls and some small roast chickens. For she knew that it was a fast-day over there. Well, we would have had plenty of leisure to consume them, under some tree or thicket. For the weather was delightful. And I and Herr Hottinger would have had very good appetites in our bellies. But no, said the pastor, in Schmerikon we could enjoy it more with a bottle of wine. Well, in Schmerikon, the pastor was so polite as to take the landlady on one side (for the innkeeper was not at home), and ask he if we could consume these small well-cooked morsels along with a glass of wine. Certainly not! was the reply. But in a private room, so that nobody can see us? No again, certainly not in my house. [...] Well, we drank a little, for our thirst was not great, and journeyed on again, somewhat vexed. Our pilgrim was to go home again, the others across the lake to Altendorf. They had given our pilgrim a portion of the unclean meat. He consumed it on the way. In spite of the holy land he threw a few gnawed bones at it. Well, he thought, you must believe the story that you always took till now to be a fairy-tale.

To wit: a Protestant carter, somewhere in those parts, had eaten a sausage in the stable on a fast-day. He was espied and accused and fined 50 guilders. In truth, a high-priced sausage. There too, it is said there was a Landvogt, who had a hump on his back. A farmer, drinking in company, said by way of a jest that he would not much like to make the gentleman's bed. He too was accused and convicted, and fined some thalers. A few years later, when the governor was no longer governor, he found himself in his own country in reduced circumstances, and our farmer passed that way again. He saw the erstwhile governor digging a patch of garden. Hey, friend, he said, hey, don't you know me? Where are those thalers now? I bet you have drunk my fine, but you still have your hump. Well, there's a time for everything. The few years of most governors in Switzerland are harvest time for them. So they must make hay while the sun shines.

But when a governor is elected, and he is burdened with heavy debts, which he must pay before he enters upon his office, that seems to me to bode no good for the country. The poor country people have to pay for it afterwards whether they will or no. Often those without debts have to pay as much as the debtor. The corn must be reaped wherever it stands.[...] In foreign parts they think all tyranny has been banished from the Confederation. But there are still many petty despots in Switzerland. A respectable philanthropist would find it worth the trouble to go travelling and spy out such men. The whole Confederation, or at least the law-abiding part thereof, would thank him for it and praise our Father in heaven. Where there is such a tyrant, there is nothing to be said. If all the subordinate officials are not his creatures, then he must always go to work gently. But when all the subordinate officials down to the bailiff are his creatures, dependent on his favour, then God help us! [... ] But I am getting into a digression. I had intended only to follow the poor pilgrim to Wädenschweil and then home. [...]

So, on this occasion he tramped towards Schmerikon with sweet anticipation. There he took a dram to renew his forces and pursued his way to Rapperschweil for his midday meal. But on the way he indulged himself as usual in speculation. At first the bad roads put him in quite an ill humour, so that he murmured: in our unpolished Toggenburg we have had to make wide roads, but here, in this favoured land, they have mucky little paths, though they surely cannot transport everything by water. But soon he came on fine new roads and saw that people had already set to work on them, which seemed to him fair and right. [...].

He found no opportunity of travelling by water and to take a private boat was beyond his means. And for a long time he had wished to cross the bridge at Rapperschweil, to admire it. But a strong north wind blew, so that he could not look round him but must walk on with long strides and carry his hat in his hand. However, he saw enough to make him think that this very long bridge might well have cost a great deal once, but was now being very poorly kept up, so that one could scarcely tread upon it with safety. He made what haste as he could to get over it and

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