no church. . . . The boatmen directed our ears to the sound of waterfalls in a cleft of the mountain; but the sight of them we must leave to other voyagers.

The broad pyramidal mountain, Neisen, rising directly from the lake on the western side towards the head, is always a commanding object. Its form recalled to my remembrance some of the stony pyramids of Glencoe, but only its form, the surface being covered with green pasturage. Sometimes, in the course of the morning, we had been reminded of our own country; but transiently, and never without a sense of characteristic difference. Many of the distinctions favourable to Switzerland I have noticed; and it seems as if I were ungrateful to our own pellucid lakes, those darlings of the summer breezes! But when floating on the Lake of Thun we did not forget them. The greenish hue of its waters is much less. pleasing than the cerulean or purple of the lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland; the reflections are less vivid; shore and water do not so delicately blend together; hence a coasting voyage cannot be accompanied with an equal variety of minute objects. And I might add many other little circumstances or incidents that enliven the banks of our lakes. For instance, in a summer forenoon, the troops of cattle that are seen solacing themselves in the cool waters within the belt of a pebbly shore; or, if the season do not drive them thither, how they beautify the pastures, and rocky unenclosed grounds! While on the Lake of Thun we did not see a single group of cattle of any kind. I have not spoken of that other sky, ' received into the bosom' of our lakes, on tranquil summer evenings; for the time of day prevented our being reminded in the same degree of what we have so often beheld at such times; but it is obvious that, though the reflections from masses of brilliant clouds must often be very grand, the clouds in their delicate hues and forms cannot be seen, in the same soft distinctness, 'bedded in another sky.'

In this pleasing valley we whirled away, again (as to the first sound of a Frenchman's whip in the streets of Calais) as blithe as children; when all at once, looking through a narrow opening of green and craggy mountains, the Jungfrau (the Virgin) burst upon our view, dazzling in brightness, which seemed rather heightened than diminished by a mantle of white clouds floating over the bosom of the mountain. The effect was indescribable. We had before seen the snows of the Alps at a distance, propped, as I may say, against the sky, or blending with, and often indistinguishable from it; and now, with the suddenness of a pantomimic change, we beheld a great mountain of snow, very near to us as it appeared, and in combination with hills covered with flourishing trees, in the pride of summer foliage. Our mirth was checked; and, awestruck yet delighted, we stopped the car for some minutes.

Soon after we discovered the town of Unterseen, which stands right under the hill, and close to the river Aar. . . . At the end of the town we came to a bridge which we were to pass over; and here, almost as suddenly was the river Aar presented to our view as the maiden-mountain in her resplendent garb had been before. Hitherto the river had been concealed by, or only partially seen through, the trees; but at Unterseen it is imperious, and will be heard, seen, and felt. In a fit of rage it tumbles over a craggy channel, spreading out and dividing into different streams, crossed by the long, ponderous wooden bridge, that, steady and rugged, adds to the wild grandeur of the spectacle. . . . I recollect one woody eminence far below us, about which we doubted whether the object on its summit was rock or castle, and the point remained undecided until, on our way to Lauterbrunnen, we saw the same above our heads, on its perpendicular steep, a craggy barrier fitted to war with the tempests of ten thousand years. The brilliance had deserted all but the highest mountains. They presented a spectacle of heavenly glory;

and long did we linger after the rosy lights had passed away from their summits, and taken a station in the calm sky above them. % It was ten o'clock when we reached the inn.

Brienz, Wednesday, August 9th.... There was something in the exterior of the people belonging to the inn at Brienz that reminded one of the ferry-houses in the Highlands -a sort of untamed familiarity with strangers, and an expression of savage fearlessness in danger. . . . The shore of Brienz, as far as we saw it, is much richer in intricate graces than the shores of the Lake of Thun. Its little retiring bays and shaggy rocks reminded me sometimes of Loch Ketterine.

Interlachen, Thursday, August 10th.-Many a streamlet crossed our way, after tumbling down the hills-sometimes as clear as the springs of our Westmoreland mountains, but the instant they touched the glacier river of the valley their pure spirit was lost-annihilated by its angry waters. I have seen a muddy and a transparent streamlet at a few yards distance hurrying down the same steep; in one instance the two joined at the bottom, travelled side by side in the same track, remaining distinct though joined together, as if each were jealous of its own character. Yielding to mild necessity, they slowly blended, ere both, in turbulent disrespect, were swallowed up by the master torrent.

Again we heard the thunder of avalanches, and saw them bursting out, fresh foaming springs. The sound is loud as thunder, but more metallic and musical. It also may be likened to the rattling of innumerable chariots passing over rocky places. . . . Soon the vale lay before us, with its two

*After the sunshine has left the mountain-tops the sky frequently becomes brighter, and of the same hue as if the light from the hills had retreated thither.

glaciers, and—as it might seem-its thousand cabins sown upon the steeps. The descent* became so precipitous that all were obliged to walk. Deep we go into the broad cradle-valley, every cottage we passed had its small garden, and cherry-trees sprinkled with leaves, bearing half-grown, half-ripe fruit. In plunging into this vale I was overcome with a sense of melancholy pervading the whole scene-not desolation, or dreariness. It is not the melancholy of the Scotch Highlands, but connected with social life in loneliness, not less than with the strife of all the seasons. The sunshine had long deserted the valley, and was quitting the summits of the mountains behind the village; but red hues, dark as the red of rubies, settled in the clouds, and lingered there after the mountains had lost all but their cold whiteness, and the black hue of the crags. The gloomy grandeur of this spectacle harmonised with the melancholy of the vale; yet it was heavenly glory that hung over those cold mountains.

Grindelwald, Friday, August 11th.-Scheidegg to Meiringen.To our right, looking over the green cradle of the vale, we saw the glacier, with the stream issuing from beneath an arch of solid ice—the small pyramids around it of a greyish colour, mingled with vitriol green. The bed of icy snow above looked sullied, so that the glacier itself was not beautiful, like what we had read of; but the mass of mountains behind, their black crags and shadows, and the awful aspect of winter encroaching on the valley-domain (combinations so new to us) made ample amends for any disappointment we might feel. . . . The rain came on in heavy drops, but did not drive us to the closer shelter of the house. We heeded not the sprinkling which a gust of wind sometimes sent in upon us. Good fortune had hitherto favoured us; and, even if we had been detained at that house

* From the Wengern Alp.

all night, the inconvenience would have been trifling. Our spirits were uplifted, and we felt as if it would be a privilege to be admitted to a near acquaintance with Alpine storms. This at least was my feeling, till the threatenings were over; and then, by happy transition, I gladly hailed the bursting light of the sun that flashed upon the crags, seen by glimpses between the dispersing clouds. The interior of the house was roomy and warm; and, though the floors were of the bare soil, everything looked cleanly; the wooden vessels were pretty, ladles and spoons curiously carved, and all neatly arranged on shelves. Three generations, making a numerous family, were there living together in the summer season, with their cattle on the rough pastures round them: *no doubt the main support of the household, but the gains from travellers must be considerable. We were surprised at being asked if we chose coffee. Hardly should we have deserved our welcome shelter had we not preferred the peasant's fare-cheese, milk, and cream, with the addition of bread fetched from the vale; and I must not omit a dish of fruit-bilberries-here very fine. Indeed most of our mountain plants, except the branchy fern and the common daisy (which we rarely saw), grow in lavish beauty, and many others unknown to us, that enamel the turf like gems. The monkshood of our gardens, growing at a great height on the Alps, has a brighter hue than elsewhere. It is seen in tufts, that to my fancy presented fairy groves upon the green grass, and in rocky places, or under trees.

The storm over, we proceeded, still in the forest, which led us through different compartments of the vale, each of itself a little valley of the loveliest greenness, on all sides skirted with pine-trees, and often sprinkled with huts, the summer dwellings

* All these Alps are occupied by owners of land in the valleys, who have a right in common according to the quantity of their land. The cheeses, like the rest of the produce, are the property of all, and the distribution takes place at the end of the season.