From the inmates of the convent we received a polite reception. We found them instructing a number of interesting girls in French and music-and judging from sundry articles of female workmanship which we purchased, the pupils were proficients in painting, and the fabrication of those little elegancies of art, in which the fairer sex excel. It was astonishing how soon Mr. Mac Dermott, who had been rather dolorous since he parted with the colonel and his lady, recovered his spirits. Of fancy works he declared himself an admirer, and in pincushions, a perfect connoisseur. As he seemed likely to prove a profitable customer, his wants being many, he found favor with the sisterhood, till alas! a lynx-eyed religeuse detected him pressing the hand of a novice, from whom he was purchasing a pencil-case. Such sinful proceeding on the part of a good Catholic, was deplorable. I felt my face redden-while my companion, with unblushing assurance, looked innocent of guile, as if he had been offering up an "Ave Mary," instead of making unholy advances to the very prettiest of these "maids of heaven."

From this blessed bazaar we proceeded to the chapel, where there is an extensive ossiary, every scull bearing the name of the quondam pro

prietor. The tombs in the burying ground adjacent, are decorated with metal crosses, prettily gilt and painted, on most of which an epitaph is inscribed, together with a miniature of the departed. In the church, which is not far from the chapel, the graves are ornamented with flowering plants that are cultivated with great care. Here the plate, or as it is called the treasure," was exhibited; but the greater portion disappeared during the revolutionary wars, and was melted down to pay the soldiery. There is one very curious article in the collection. The design is taken from the book of Revelations, and represents the angel coming down from heaven with a chain to bind Satan for a thousand years, when the Millenium is to commence. figures are beautifully executed. declared that a worse tempered man than the devil looked, he had never met with in his travels; "but it was no wonder if he was to be strapped up neck and heels like a deserter, and that too by an old acquaintance."

The

Mac

Next day we proceeded to Lucerne, the capital of the Canton. This ancient town, according to Muller's computation, stands 1320 feet above the level of the sea. The situation is extremely picturesque, and the view from the city extensive as it is beautiful. Lucerne may be called the foreground of the boundless scenery of the Alps. From the lake, Mounts Pilate and Righi rise from opposite shores; the one crowned with bare and savage rocks; the other with verdure, and on its summit a cross. Beyond these a chain of inaccessible mountains covered with eternal snows, present themselves. The river Reuss flows from the lake, and passes through a part of the town. Over its waters four wooden bridges

are thrown, one of which is nearly 1400 feet in length. All the bridges are ornamented with badly executed paintings, the subjects taken either from the Old and New Testaments, or Swiss history. On the hill immediately above the town, a board with fixed sights and a moveable ruler, enables the traveller to find any of the surrounding mountains, their heights from the level of the lake, and distance from the eye, and from each other. By the index on the board, the altitude of the highest appeared to be 4700 feet. Descending the hill, we visited the the Hotel De Ville. Its ceiling is of oak, and the workmanship exquisite. The paintings are numerous and but indifferent-the most remarkable a Moses on Mount Sinai giving the commandments.

The Arsenal was our next object. Here the banners of the town are shown, stained with the blood of Avoyer Gundelinguen, who was killed at the battle of Sempach, in 1385. There is also preserved here a curious assortment of ancient cross bows and arrows, with cannon and various fire arms.

The cathedral is worth visiting. Like other Catholic churches on the Continent, it is liberally supplied with cross looking virgins and children; some were royally crowned, while others were shabbily arrayed in large wigs, not of the newest fashion. The organ is chief lion, and from its magnitude, an object of uncommon interest. It was built by J. Geissler of Salzbourg, 1651, at the expense of 9568 Florins, and occupied this celebrated artist for seventeen years. It contains 2826 pipes, of which the largest is thirty seven feet long, by two one half in diameter. On each side there are twenty six stops, with three rows of keys, and one of pedals; and it requires fifteen pair of bellows to supply a sufficiency of wind. We sent for the organist who attended and played a few airs, that we might judge what the body of its tone was. The

effect was indeed surprising; and when the great pipe was used, the whole edifice appeared to tremble. Whether M. Basnurrus was a good musician I cannot pretend to say; but that he was an excellent Catholic, is indisputable. A five franc piece which he modestly accepted for his VOL. III.

trouble, as it came from my heretical hand, underwent a regular ablution in holy water before this worthy man, would condescend to pocket it.

The on the

Among the works of art in Lucerne, Rheinhard's paintings of the costumes of the Cantons, and the celebrated model of the Swiss mountains, by General Pfyffer, are the most remarkable. The latter represents an extent of 180 square leagues. highest mountain marked model, in height 9700 feet, is but ten inches above the level of the lake of Lucerne or Waldstet-yet hill and valley, rivers and roads, chateaux and crosses-all are marked with astonishing accuracy. Indeed this model is a chef d'œuvre of its kind, and the dullest tourist is stricken with its miniature resemblance to the mighty panorama which it represents.

In the evening we hired a boat, and rowed for five miles down the lake, to view Kussnach, and the chapel of William Tell, where he shot the tyrant Gesler. Another chapel near Altorf, commemorates his escape from prison.

Lucerne, like all old towns, has narrow streets, and there are no footways; but some of the houses are very good; the auberges are cheap, and on the whole, it is a place rife with many sights and recollections to interest the traveller. Our route to Berne was not worth chronicling particularly. We saw some beautiful scenery, were caught in a thunder storm, got a bad dinner at Kilchberg, and in the evening were safely deposited at the crown hotel in the Rue grande.

Berne is beautifully situated on the slope of a hill, at the base of which the river Aar winds. The houses are built with cut stone, the streets wide and clean, the pathways flagged and arched over, which renders them a dry promenade in all weathers, and in sunshine particularly agreeable. The Gothic cathedral with its admired steeple, the hospital (Eglis du St. Esprit) rebuilt in 1722, the library of 30,000 volumes and 1500 manuscripts, the small museum of natural history, and the botanic gardens, are all extremely interesting, and Berne is reckoned one of the most desirable residences in Switzerlrnd. Our guide o acquainted us that here Haller was born, (his picture may be seen in the

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museum) and the best gunpowder in Europe was manufactured near the town. Mr. Mac doubted "whether Hall or Harvey were not as good; but as he recommended it, he, Mac, would try a cannister or two of Haller's." Was there ever such a Vandal? We left for Lausanne next day, and reached Morat for dinner. The town is situated on a lake of the same name, but wants those charms of Swiss scenery, wood and mountain. It is celebrated as the scene of the defeat of Charles the Bold, in 1476; and a little chapel, filled with the bones of those that fell, bears this pithy inscription:"The army of Charles the Bold, besieging Morat, left this monument of its passage." Mr. Mac Dermott observed that "they might call him 'bold' here; but he was too timid in London, or he would never have popped his head out of Lord Melbourne's middle window to lay it on the block. Many a time he had looked at it (the window) while kicking his heels at the horse guards." It was useless to explain; Mac confounded the martyr of England with the daring Duke of Normandy-N'importe.

On our route to Moudon we passed the little village of Avanches; the Aventicum of the Romans, endeared to antiquarians by its marble column and shattered sculpture; and Payerne, where leather-dealers would worship, as there is preserved the saddle of Queen Bertha, who, no doubt, was a thrifty gentlewoman, as the pommel is provided with a hole for the reception of her distaffe, shewing, that when

-on pleasure bent, She had a frugal mind."

The country between this and Berne is highly cultivated, and gives promise of excellent crops. Mac is no agriculturist. I pointed out, after a few miles, Mont Blanc and the surrounding Alps; but my companion was fast asleep, and so continued till we entered Lausanne, and stopped at the "Lion d'Or.”

The town stands 432 feet above the level of the lake, and the views from it are perfectly enchanting. Independently of scenic beauty, it boasts a high antiquity, and numerous remains of its Roman origin ornament the library. The academy and Cathedral are worth the traveller's notice; and to the literati, the place where “our

Gibbon" resided, is "holy ground." The house in which "The decline and fall of the Roman Empire" was written, is now inhabited by a banker, and the bay window and terrace which the historian mentions in his letters, are still preserved precisely as he left them. Lausanne is said to be the cheapest place imaginable; a man may board in a most respectable lodging-house for five or six louis a month—and in an indifferent one, for three.

I put Byron's poem in my pocket, and set out for the castle of Chillon. We passed Lutri Crilly and St. Sapharan, and reached Vevey for breakfast, after a pleasant drive of nine miles. From Vevey the view is magnificentthe splendid lake, skirted with towns, villages, and chateaux, and Meillerie immortalized by J. J. Rousseau. Indeed many prefer this place to Lausanne or Geneva; and the prospect from the church, embracing the mountains of "the Valois," the Glacier's Sugar-loaf, and part of St. Bernard, is inexpressibly grand. Clarence, the beautiful object of Rousseau's fancy, was visited; but we looked in vain for the Castle of Wolmar; for, notwithstanding his florid painting, it is said that Jean Jaques was never there!

At Motiers he composed his famous "Lettres de la Montaigne," which gave such mortal offence to the clergy that they memorialized the king of Prussia, and requested that he would disgrace the writer. Frederick's reply was full of dignity, and he refused the churchmen's prayer. But though protected by the king, Rousseau was insulted by the populace, and driven for shelter to the little island of St. Pierre in the Brienne. When offered pecuniary assistance by Frederick, his direct refusal elicited that eccentric monarch's admiration :-" That man's indifference to money is, at least, a near approach to virtue; and if he ever wants a king, I trust that he will oblige me with a preference!"

Passing the neat villages of Montreux and Charney, built on the side of the mountain, in a few minutes we reached the castle of Chillon. This ancient fortress is situated between Clarence and Villeneuve: on its left is the entrance of the Rhone, and opposite the heights of Meillerie and the range of Alps above St. Gingo. In

the dungeons of Chillon the early reformers were confined, and subsequently it was occupied by prisoners for state offences. Across one of the vaults, a beam, black with age, is pointed out, where those who, "proud of persecution's rage," were executed. The roof of one cell is supported by eight pillars, and the iron ring to which Bonnivard was chained remains. A board hangs on the pillar with this inscription" Chillon was built in 1236, by Pierre de Savage, surnamed the petit Charlemagne.' Others say that it was erected in 1120. In the year 1530, F. Bonnivard, of Geneva, prior of St. Victor, having had a dispute with the bishop of this town, was shut up in the dungeon of the castle, by order of the Duke of Savoy, and did not regain his liberty until the year 1536." The cell is damp and gloomy;

"A double dungeon wall and wave

Have made and like a living grave
Below the surface of the lake,
The dark vault lies."

The "little isle" has a remarkable effect when seen from Chillon; and from its singleness and diminutive size, presents an imposing object to the

eye

"A small green isle, it seem'd no more,

Scarce broader than my dungeon floor;
But in it there were three tall trees,
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze,
And by it there were waters flowing,
And on it there were young flowers growing,
Of gentle breath and hue."

The only thing in the poetic description of the castle and island is the number of the trees and pillars. On Bonnivard's pillar many names are cut, and among the rest we discovered 66 Byron, 1816."

We reached Geneva early next morning. The town stands on a rising ground above the lake, and is divided by the "dark blue waters" of the Rhone. Excepting the library there is little to interest the tourist, although the trader will have much in its extensive manufactures to admire. At the distance of a league from Geneva, stands Byron's favourite chateau. When here in 1816, I visited him in company with a friend. Unfortunately his lordship had been severely indisposed, and obliged for several days to keep his room. He sent us a kind message by

his servant, regretting his inability to receive us, accompanied by the key of the garden, and a request that we would cut some fruit and walk on the balcony, which commanded a magnificent view of the lake as far as the castle of Chillon. As we passed one of the windows we saw the poet lying on a sofa, and he saluted us. He seemed as if in pain; and a momentary glance at his fine and intelligent face plainly told that he suffered from bodily ailment less than " a mind diseased."

Other names of "lettered eminence" are closely associated with Geneva. In the Garden of the chateau of Copet,. the remains of Necker and Madame de Staël are lying, and no monument covers them. Ferney, the residence of Voltaire, is in the same state as when, forty years ago, the philosopher occupied it. The pictures hang upon the walls, the furniture continues undisturbed; all is there but the gifted man who tenanted its spacious chambers. The view of the lake, the Alps, and Mount Blanc from the house and grounds, is very fine.

We left Geneva to visit the interest

ing valley of Chamouni, in a small and coarsely-built four-wheeled carriage, drawn by a pair of mules. The narrowness and roughness of the road renders it impracticable to more comfortable vehicles. On our route, we stopped to view the cascade of Chede. As the water was abundant, and the fall is computed at 300 feet, it forms an interesting object. The morning was remarkably fine, and the sunbeams falling on the spray formed the most beautiful iris I ever looked at. While I was gazing with delight upon this splendid bow, Mr. Mac Dermott had discovered a more engrossing feature of the scene-a very pretty girl employed in sketching the cascade.

For the soul of me I cannot comprehend by what freemasonry the fellow manages to slip into society with persons from all corners of the earth, with whose very existence he had been previously unacquainted. Surely that look and brogue of his are sufficient to alarm an Amazon-and yet, before I had completed a hasty survey of the rainbow, he was pointing pencils for the fair artist, and basking in the sunshine of the brightest blue eye that

ever undone a traveller! But the old man, her father, approaches; he will bring pencil cutting to a close and mar the têtê a tête. God help me! never was I more astray. There is an interchange of smiles and snuff between the parties. Mac's " Masulipitan" is requited with the stranger's Strasburgh," and in five minutes I expect to see the whole group contract an eternal friendship, and register it in heaven, upon all the beauties of the cascade!

As I anticipated, the mischief is done. The old man and his daughter are bound for Chamouni; and MAC has made it exceedingly plain, that the interests of all require us to occupy the same inn and table, and establish a sort of travelling copartnership. The father, of course, will be turned over to my attentions, while my worthy companion superintends the lady and her portfolio. Well, no matter for a day or two; the old man looks intelligent, and I'll submit.

Proceeding on our route, accompanied by the strangers in a small caleche, we ascended the hill and reached the lake, which bears the same name of the fall we had been viewing. Still toiling on, we gained Lezouche, to which the Glaciers of Mont Blane approximate. Short as the ascent was, the changes in atmospheric temperature were most rapid. At the fall the thermometer stood at 78°; on the hill above the lake it sank to 70°; and on the highest level of the road, where we turned aside to gain a better prospect of the glaciers, placed upon the snow, it fell to 32°. A cold shower hurried us on to Chamouni, and we were happy to find ourselves safe from the weather at the Hotel de Londre.

In this valley a convent of Benedictines was founded by a count of Geneva, in 1099; but Chamouni was unknown to Europe till 1741, when it was discovered by Doctor Pocock and Mr. Windham; and it was reserved for two English tourists to declare the existence of a country situated only eighteen leagues from Geneva!

The village is very small. It contains but the priory and a few houses. The museum of minerals, however, is worth attention; and the old gentleman, after dinner accompanied me to visit this cabinet. The demoiselle pro

ceeded with her sketch, and Mr. Mad remained with madame, to aid, comfort, and point the pencils.

At seven o'clock next morning we commenced the ascent of Montauvert, elevated 2,600 feet above the valley of Chamouni. Our mules carried us about half way, when the steeps became so frequent and abrupt that we were obliged to dismount and send the quadrupeds back. The road, or rather pathway from the valley, is rapid in ascent, but not dangerous, and runs through a forest of pines and larch trees. Three hours' toil completed the journey, and placed us before the temple on the summit. On the front of the building is inscribed, “A la nature ;" and within, a book, the "Livre des Amis," is kept, in which travellers indite their names, and, if they please, a record of the particulars of their expedition.

The view from the temple is grand beyond description. To the south we saw the Noir Aiguelle of Charmay; on the north, the Rougeatre de Dru, 6,000 feet higher than the spot we stood, from which it is separated by the Mer de Glace. Many other mountains of extraordinary shape are visible from Montanvert, the names of which our guide, Marie Gabrielle Payot, enumerated. Underneath the valley of Chamouni appears, while the glaciers, and more particularly the Mer de Glace, resembles a sea suddenly frozen in its most violent agitation, over whose surface sharp and savage rocks protrude, casting on the lighter ice a tint of variable blue.

We walked upon this frozen sea, until the excessive coldness of our feet induced us to abandon it for terra firma. Here stands the block of granite, where Doctor Pocock and his companion sheltered from a violent thunder storm, and dined in 1741, on the day they first discovered this long forgotten valley. The shelter is indeed excellent, but we were fortunate enough not to need it; and after partaking of bread and milk with the shepherd who inhabited the temple of nature, we repaid him by purchasing a few crystals, and made a safe descent to our inn by the Glacier du bois, from which the river Arveran takes its source.

Next day we set off for Martigny. Our fair companion was too much