Our Little Swiss Cousin - Mary Hazelton Blanchard Wade - Bog

"To-morrow, to-morrow!" Carl kept repeating to himself. He was standing at the window of the little cottage and looking out toward the great mountain. He had lived under its shadow all his life. Its snowy summit was coloured a fiery red as it stood against the sky in the sunset light. People in far-away lands would give a great deal to see such a glorious sight.