of ground—the dark fir trees environing it—the cliffs that leaned above it, and that spiritually white glacier contrasting with the bright green below, combined to form a group and a picture that seemed more like a vision than a real scene. I gazed in silent rapture upon it, drinking in the beauty and strangeness of that scene, till I longed to pitch my tent there forever. That level greensward seemed to rest like a fearless, innocent child in the rough embrace of the great forms around it. It was to me the gem of Alpine vallies.

There is no outward emblem of peace and quietness so striking as one of these green spots amid the Alps. The surface of a summer lake stirred by no breeze-the quiet night and quieter stars are not so full of repose. The contrast is not so great. Place that quiet lake amid roaring billows, and the repose it symbolised would be doubly felt. So amid the Alps. The aw. ful scenery that folds in one of these sweet spots of greensward makes it seem doubly sweet and green. It imparts a sort of consciousness to the whole, as if there was a serene trust, a feeling of innocence in the brightly smiling meadow. It seems to let itself be embraced by those rude and terrific forms without the least fear, and smiles back in their stern and savage faces, as if it knew it could not be harmed. And the snow peaks and threatening precipices look as if proud of their innocent child, guarding it with savage tenderness. What beauty God has scattered over the earth! On the frame-work of the hills, and the valleys they enclose-on cliff and stream, sky and earth, He has drawn the lines of beauty and grandeur with a pencil that never errs. But especially amid the Alps does he seem to have wrought with sublimest skill. All over its peaks and abysses has he thrown the mantle of his Majesty; while its strong avalanches, falling all alone into solitudes where the foot of man has never trod, and the wing of the eagle never stooped, speak "eternally of Him." "The ice hills," as they leap away from their high resting place, "thunder GOD!"

MEYRINGEN.

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X.

VALLEY OF MEYRINGEN.-PASS OF BRUNIG.

As we descended into Meyringen, a Swiss peasant girl came running up to me with an Alpine rose in her hand. If it had been a spontaneous gift, I could have mused over it for an hour; but given, as it was, for money, destroyed its value, and I placed it in my pocket to preserve for an American friend, to whom I never designed to mention the circumstance under which it was obtained. I stopped a moment to look at the Seilbach (rope fall), as it hung in a long white thread from the cliff; and at the roaring torrent of the Reichenbach, and then passed into the valley, which was resting below in all the quietness of a summer scene.

One has peculiar feelings in entering an Alpine valley by one of these fearful passes. The awful cliffs that have frowned over him—the savage gorges up which his eye has strained-the torrents and avalanches and everlasting snow that have rolled, and fallen, and spread around him, have thrown his whole nature into a tumult of excitement. And this stupendous scenery has gone on changing, from grand to awful, till feelings of horror have become mingled with those of sublimity; so that when his eye first rests on one of these sweet valleys smiling in the sunlight, with flocks and herds scattered over its bosom, and peasants' cottages standing amid the smooth greensward, the transition and contrast are so great, that the quietness and repose of Eden seem suddenly opened before him. From those wild and torn mountains, that have folded in the path so threateningly, the heart emerges into one of these valleys, like the torrent along whose course he has trod in awe. The foaming cataracts and dark ravines are all

passed, and the placid stream moves, like a smile, through the quiet landscape.

But this valley, so bright the first day we entered it, became dreary enough before we left it. One of those dark, driving Al. pine storms set in, and for three days we could not place foot out of doors. The chief beauty of the valley consists in the two steep parallel ranges of hills enclosing it, now and then changing into cliffs, along which white cascades hang, as if suspended there, while far distant snow peaks rise over one another in every direction. The Lake of Brienze peeps modestly into the farther end of it, enclosed by its ramparts of mountains. Taking a carriage to the head of the lake, we there hired a boat to Griesbaek falls. A man and his wife rowed us. After clambering up and down the falls, and under them, and seeing logs which one of the party threw in above, leap away from their brink, we went in to see the "Old Schoolmaster," and hear him and his children and grandchildren sing Alpine songs, while the white waterfall played a sort of bass accompaniment. The singing was very fine the best we heard in Switzerland, and after having purchased some nick-nacks and music, and paid beforehand for a farewell on the Alp-horn, which is said to sound very finely from this position, we embarked once more upon the lake. The "Old Schoolmaster" told us it was far better to hear the Alp-horn when we had got out on the lake. Never supposing he would deceive us, we laid by on our oars for a long time, but in vain. He had fairly Jewed us.

The cliffs around this valley send down fearful torrents in the spring, one of which—the Alpbach—has once buried a large part of the village twenty feet deep with mud and stones. The church was filled eighteen feet deep, and the black line, indicating the high water mark, is still visible on the walls. The last leap of the Alpbach is right over a precipice clear into the valley. From the peculiar manner in which the sun strikes it, a triple rainbow is formed one of them making a complete circle around your feet. To see this last, it is necessary to enter the mist, and take a beautiful drenching; but I was repaid for it, by seeing myself, once in my life, with a real halo around me, and that too around my feet. The beautiful ring held me in its embrace like an en

LAKE OF LUNGERN.

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chanted circle, until the drenching mist, having finally penetrated to my skin, broke the charm. I went shivering home, protesting against rainbows being put in such inconvenient places.

The pass of the Brunig is a mere bridle path, but it presents nothing striking to the traveller, except the charming view of the valley of Meyringen, from its summit. It is a perfect picture.

The lake of Lungern, which we passed soon after descending the Brunig, presents a most singular appearance. It has been drained twenty feet below its original level, and the steep banks that mark its former height, surround it like some old ruined wall. The Kaiserstuhl, a high ridge, was stretched across the foot of the lake, forming a natural dam, and heaping up the water twenty feet higher than the valley below. A tunnel, 1,300 feet long, was bored through this, with only a thin partition of rock left to hold back the flood. Five hundred men were employed on it, relieving each other constantly, and for several hours at a time: for the impossibility of ventilating the tunnel from above, made the air very foul and dangerous. When the work was completed, and floodgates constructed below to graduate the rush of the water, nine hundred and fifty pounds of powder were placed in the farther extremity of the tunnel. It was midwinter, and the lake frozen over, but multitudes assembled on the morning appointed for the explosion to witness the result. The surrounding hills were covered with spectators, when a cannon shot from the Kaiserstuhl, answered by another from the Laudenberg, announced that the hour had arrived. A daring Swiss entered the tunnel and fired the train. He soon reappeared in safety, while the vast multitude stood in breathless anxiety, waiting the explosion. The leaden minutes wore on, yet no one felt the shock. At length, at the end of ten minutes, just as they had concluded it was a failure, two distinct though dull reports were heard. The ice lay smooth and unbroken as ever, and there was a second disappointment, for all supposed the mine had not burst through the partition. But, at length, there was a shout from below, and a black stream of mud and water was seen to issue from the opening, showing that the work was done. This drainage was to recover a large tract of land, which was a mere swamp. The object was

secured, but the land is hardly worth the tilling. The geologist, however, will regard the portion laid bare with interest.

As we approached Lucerne, we passed the location of the famous Alpnach slide, made during the time of Bonaparte, for the purpose of bringing timber for ship-building from the mountains. It was eight miles long, and between three and four feet wide, and was made of logs fastened together, so as to form a sort of trough. This trough went across frightful gorges, and in some instances under ground. A rill of water was directed into it to lessen the friction, and prevent the logs from taking fire. A tree, a hundred feet long and four feet in diameter, would shoot this eight miles in six minutes. When one of these logs bolted from the trough, it would fly like an arrow through the air, and if it came in contact with a tree would cut it clean in two. The whole work is now destroyed.

Coming, at length, to Lake Lucerne, we took a boat and row. ers, and set off for the town that stands so beautifully at its foot. I had been for days in the heart of the Oberland, which contains the wildest scenery in the Alps. My meat had been mostly the flesh of the Chamois, while the men and the habitations I had passed seemed to belong to another world. In one instance, I had seen a man carrying boards strapped to his back, between three and four miles to his hut, on the high pasturage grounds. There was no other way of getting them there. These huts or cottages (just as one likes to call them) with their low walls and overhanging roof loaded with stones and rocks, to keep them from being blown off when the fierce Alpine storm is on his march, have an odd look; though they are sometimes very picturesque, from their position.

From such scenery and dwellings the sight of a town and houses was like a sudden waking up from some strange dream.