Unknown Switzerland ... Translated from the twelfth edition by Mrs. Wilson

Chapter I

page Money-making Switzerland and Unknown Switzerland. — Hotels at Twenty Francs a Day and Hotels at Five.— Native Switzerland and Tourists' Switzerland. — First Sensations. — Swiss and Armagnacs. — Picturesque Basle. — The Museum. — Holbein. — From Basle to Lucerne 3

Chapter II

Lucerne.— The Lake and the Quays. — The Foreigners.— The Old Town. — A Happy Convent.— The Beginnings of Lucerne. — How a Child Defeats a Conspiracy 19

Chapter III

The Curiosities of Lucerne.— The Schweizerhof Quay.— Varieties of Lady Travellers: Parisian, English, German, and Swiss Ladies. — French Tourists. — English Tourists.— German Tourists — Unconscious Comedy. — A Russian Lady. — Evening at Lucerne . '27

Chapter IV

Departure by the St. Gothard.— The Harm that Engineers have done to Switzerland.— The Last Battle of the Sonderbund. — The Lake of Zug.— Legend. — Goldau. — Tho Lake of Lowertz. — Brunnen. — Fluelen. — Altorf. — A Landsgemeinde.— The Passage of the St. Gothard.— The Monk's Leap.— Gesehenen.— The Great Tunnel.— Faido and the Leventina.— Giornico.— Biasco. — Bellinzona and Lugano *1

Chapter V

The Lake of Lugano.— An Old Friend of Mazzini — Monte Caprino. — llenaggio.— Cadenabbia.— Bellagio.— Corked Italian Wine.— Story of a Smuggler CONTENTS. VI

Chapter I

page Awaking at Chiavenna. — The most Polite and Handsome of Landlords. — Santa Croce. — Bondo. — The Plateau of Maloja. — First Appearance of the Upper Engadine. —Sils. — The Upper Engadine Thirty Years Ago. —Silvaplana. — Campfer. — St. Moritz-les- Bains and St. Moritz-le-Village 87

Chapter II

A MatinSe at the Baths of St. Moritz. — In the Garden of the Curhaus. — In Front of the Curhaus.— In the Curhaus. — The Water-drinkers. — Funereal Bathing-places.— St. Moritz and the Upper Engadine. — How it became Protestant . . . .97

Chapter III

Adieu to St. Moritz. — The Pretty Pastrycook. — The Advantage of Going on Foot. — The Mowers of the Alps. — Samaden. — An Office of the Federal Post. — The Villages of the Upper Engadine. — The Pontresina Road. — A Night Impression. — Arrival at the Steinbock 105

Chapter IV

Awaking in the Mountains. — A Caravan. — The Ascent of the Piz Languard. — The Summit. — The Face of an Acquaintance. — Panorama from Piz Languard. — The Descent. — A New Mode of Locomotion .......... 116

Chapter V

Summer Snow. — At the Cafe of Pontrfeina. — Return to the Hotel 123

Chapter VI

Setting out for the Glaciers. — A Rencontre. — Recollections of an Old Hunter. — The Marmot : its Manners and its Chase. — An Alpine Lake. — Sight of the Glaciers.— The Bernina Group. — The Life of the Gfaciers. — Switzerland the Country of Glaciers. — The Chamois.— The Hunter Colani. — The Englishman who wished to see the Devil. — The Three Days' Hunting of M. Lenz . . CONTENTS. VII

Chapter VII

page Bear Hunters. — Kiing. — Jean Ruolf. — Nicolas Lechtaler. — The Snow Partridge. — M. Jancka. — Flora and Fauna of the Glaciers. — How the Glaciers are Formed. — Crevasses, "Tables," "Moulins." — The Legends of the Glacier. — Moraines. — Evening near the Glaciers 142

Chapter VIII

To the Roseg Glacier. — Snow of the Plain and Snow of the Mountain. — Avalanches. — A Recent Avalanche. — Bergamese Shepherds. — Their Ways. — The Flock on the March. — The Bergamese Dog. — A Romausch Song. — Impressions of the Glacier.— Manners, Customs, and Habits in the Engadine. — Return to Pontresina. — A Catastrophe on the Bernina 157

Chapter I

From Pontresina to the Rhone Glacier (Three Days' Posting). — The Pleasures of the Diligence. — Changing Horses. — Samaden. — The Victim of the Bernina. — The Julier. — The Albula Pass. — Bergiin. — Arrival at Coire 179

Chapter II

Continuation of the Dili yence Journey. — Leaving Coire. — The Heroic Story of the Grisons. — Adam of Camogask. — Jean Chialdaerer. — George Jenatsch. — Grison Women. — The Vorder-Rhein Valley. — Disentis. — German Tourists. — The One-eyed Gendarme, the Dutch Lady, the Little Lady's-maid, and the Lucerne Apothecary. — Arrival at Andermatt ....... 187

Chapter III

Three Hungry Abbes. — Gendarme Nostalgia. — Of Swiss Gendarmes and their Use. — How to make Use of them. — Gendarmes to be Avoided. — Misadventure of a Swiss Gentleman. — Post and Diligence Horses. — The Furka.— The Rhone Glacier. — Some Tourists. — The Valais and its Valleys : their Beauty and their Variety CONTENTS. 218 231

Chapter I

page First Valaisian Village. — A Hunting Cure. — Munster. — Fiesch. — A Disinterested Innkeeper. — The Eggischhorn. — The Angelus in the Mountain.— How, when there are no more Beds, one can still be had 213

Chapter II

A Night Surprise. — An Early Start. — The Ascent of the Eggischhorn. — View of Glaciers. — Sunrise. — An Early Butterfly. — Thc Catastrophe of the Jungfrau. — A Platonic Dessert. — Return to the Rhone Valley. — Naters.— Visp.— Zermatt. — Gampel .

Chapter III

Kippel, in the Loetsch Valley. — Hospitality at the Parsonage — Hell-wine. — Details about Manners. — Theatrical Representations. — Legends. — Women in Trousers. — The Parson of , KippcTs Chamois. — The Inn at Gampel 224

Chapter IV

Sierre. — A little Earthly Paradise. — I Hire a Mule. — The Lake of Geronde. — Chippis. — The Val d'Anniviers Road. — Nomade Manners. — Legends. — The "Pontis." — Conversation with my Muleteer.— Arrival at Vissoye. — Story of Saute-en-Barque

Chapter V

The Flowers of the Vas d'Anniviers. — View from Vissoye. — Old Remembrances. — Story of a Marmot. — Old Customs. — Manners and Habits of the Anniviards. — The Judge. — No Taxes. — Thc Election of a Priest. — Council of Morals. — The Work for Poor Children.— Marriage and Funeral Ceremonies. — To the Village. —The First-fruits 245

Chapter VI

Departure from Vissoye. — Conversation with an Old Woman. — Adventure of my Friend, H. Flamans.— A Councillor Baking CONTENTS. IX PAGE his Bread.— Glacier Wine. — From Grimentz to the Torrent-Alp. —Valaisian Chalets.— The Butter-mill.— Shepherd Life— Flocks in the Mountains. — The Col de Torrent. — Rain and Snow. — Arrival at Evolena 258

Chapter VII

Evolena, in the Val d'Herens. — Interiors and Families. — Ancient and Modern Costumes.— The Children.— The School.— The Commune. — Manners and Customs. — The Poet Beytrison. — His Life. — Song against a Bad Rich Man.— The Patois of the Val d'Herens. — A Mountain Drama 273

Chapter VIII

A Holiday Morning in a Valaisian Village. — The Mules. — Thc Young Girls. — The Procession. — The Penitents. — Thc Nursery. — The Close of the Service 288

Chapter IX

A Dinner at the Parsonage of Evolena. — How I was Guilty, unconsciously, of a Grave Imprudence. — The Guides Gaspoz and Bovier. — Departure of my Son for the Dent Blanche . . . 294

Chapter X

Account by a Mountain Climber aged Fourteen. — The Dent Blanche. —The Catastrophe in 1882.— Starting from Evolena.— The Smugglers. — The Shepherd of Bricola. — Night at the Chalet. — Awaking at Midnight. — Across the Ferpecle Glacier. — The Crevasses. — Ascent of the Dent Blanche. — The "Gendarmes." — At the Top.— Rapid Descent.— Joy of the Guides. — Return to Ferpecle 301

Chapter XI

The Glacier of Arolla.— Return to the Rhone Valley.— The " Doctoress " of Heremence. — A Healer in the Mountains. — How she Learned Medicine. — The Pyramids of Heremence.— Arrival at Sion. — MM. Bieler, Van Muyden, and Pata. —Adieus to Sion CONTENTS. X

Chapter I

page From Montreux to Albeuve by Jaman. — The Panorama from the Col. — The Country of Good Gendarmes. — La Gruyere. — Cows and Pasturage. — Character of the Inhabitants. — The Itanz des Vachcs, a Satirical Poem. — An Excellent Government. — Evening in the Mouutains 325

Chapter II

Albeuve. — Formerly and Now. — The Hotel of The Angel. — Gruyeres. — Feudal Town and Castle. — The House of the Mad Chalamala. — The Terrace of Gruyere Castle. — The " Council of Madmen." — The Ancient Counts. — Popular Traditions. — The Interior of the Great Hall, the Arsenal, the Drawing-room. — Corot, Francais, Baron, at Gruyeres 333

Chapter III

A Baptism. — St. Peter and the Little Fribourgers. — Ancient Statutes of the Clergy of Gruyeres. — The Hotel-chalet of Montbarry. — Autumn Pleasures. — The Moleson. — A Sunrise.— The Mountain and the Sea. — The Village.— A Fair Day. — Beauties of Autumn. — The "Brook-road." — Sunsets. — The Patois. — The Armaillis and the Odyssey of the Mountains. — Legends. — Gruyere, Au Iievoir!

Chapter I. Money-making Switzerland And Unknown Switzerland

— HOTELS AT TWENTY FRANCS A DAY AND HOTELS AT FIVE. — NATIVE SWITZERLAND AND TOURISTS' SWITZERLAND. — FIRST SENSATIONS. — SWISS AND ARMAGNACS. — PICTURESQUE BASLE. THE MUSEUM. HOLBEIN. — FROM BASLE TO LUCERNE. UNKNOWN Switzerland ! Is there such a region ? It is certainly neither here in Basle, where I have just arrived, nor at Lucerne, where I expect to be in a few hours. That Switzerland, hiding away like a rare flower in remote Alpine valleys, must be sought for far from the common track followed by the holders of Cook's tickets, or indicated in the best arranged circular tours. We have already more than enough of descriptions of the tourists' Switzerland, where foreigners are shown illuminated waterfalls, glaciers, the access to which is guarded by turn stiles, — even sunrises and sunsets, all so exactly reduced to rule, more or less exhibited according to the price paid, that all might be the work of machinery.

That is the Switzerland of trade and money-making, of speculation and bargaining ; the Switzerland that deals in long hotel-bills and busy clerks and dainty salads ; that is set in brooches and painted on cigar-cases, and made musical in clocks and in the little carved boxes of the Oberland. That Switzerland has lost all piquancy and impressiveness and originality ; there is no brightness left in it, — no poetry, —no delicious surprise anywhere. Each troop of tourists follows in the footsteps of the last, like people passing through a crowded museum. They invariably dine either at noon or at six o'clock, in a dining-room with its invariable huge mirrors multiplying endlessly the waiters after the invariable pattern, — black dresscoat and white tie. The bill of fare never varies, and all the sauces are so exactly alike in taste, smell, and colour, that they must surely be made wholesale in some factory at Geneva or Berne.

In this shop-keeping Switzerland, decked for its summer show, the steamers have the dignified and cautious motion of a canal-boat ; and the ascent of the mountains is per formed by rail or tramway. It is a very different Switzerland to which I am going, and to which I should like to take you, my reader, with me ; for I am sure you would enjoy it. It is the charming Switzerland of mountain zigzag ; the good old Switzerland of flower-bordered paths through shady woods ; of cheerful roads, following no rule, and enlivened by the jingling of the diligence bells and the bold, merry blast of the postillion's horn ; — sounds that draw all the prettiest damsels to the village windows. In this Switzerland, instead of those hotels raised at enormous cost, where you must arrive in recognised English tourist style — knickerbockers and ribbed stockings, blue veil round your hat, binocular slung from your shoulder, and alpenstock in hand, amidst the bustle of a dozen obsequious hirelings, — unless you would be looked down on as a cobbler in his Sunday clothes ; hotels where hospitality is dispensed at the rate of twenty to thirty francs for twenty-four hours ; instead of such hotels there is the peaceful and patriarchal wayside inn, where you are enter tained for four or five francs a day, with its kindly hostess and her smiling maidens, its overhanging eaves, its carved balconies with boxes of nasturtiums and pinks, its windows with little lozenge-shaped panes in leaden frames, its oak- JOYS OF FREEDOM. 5 panelled dining-room, of which the decorations are the old clock, the stone stove like a monument, and pictures illustrating the career of William Tell, or the not less authentic story of Genevieve of Brabant.

This room is usually separated by a partition from the bar-parlour, which is occupied by pedlars, drivers, mountaineers, guides, chamois hunters, stone hunters, and plant hunters. There everything conventional, commercial, vulgar, or disturbing is utterly laid aside. In the sacred solitude of those lonely valleys one feels as if he regained full possession of himself, and became once more the child of nature ; free as the marmot that whistles from the rocks or the eagle that sails among the clouds. The joy of launching forth into the vast freedom of the mountains is like that of an escaped captive. And every danger braved, every toil sustained, is only a fresh intoxica tion and delight. It is not on the dusty and beaten roads of the Oberland . in the midst of the flock of tourists browsing, every summer, like sheep, on the leaves of their Baedeker or their Conti that these strong and delicious sensations of solitude and freedom are to be experienced.

The Oberland is now nothing but a panorama, — an immense museum or show, got up and utilised by hotel keepers of every nationality. As Paris is twofold, so also is Switzerland. There is the foreigners' Switzerland and the natives' Switzerland. It is to some corners of the latter that I wish to introduce my readers. As there must always be a starting-point, I shall begin by telling you how I set out, and what I saw by the way. To-day, as you are aware, it is as easy to go from Paris to Switzerland, as from Paris to Pontoise. If the journey is a little longer, yet how conveniently and comfortably it is made. In the sumptuous sleeping saloons, with their luxuriously furnished couches, you seem to travel without the trouble of leaving your own bedroom. It is only on awaking next morning that you discover how far you are from Paris.

What a strange and delicious sensation it is, when the blue, dreamy light of dawn begins to steal through the lowered blinds, to step out of the close carriage in which you have spent the night, and to find yourself surrounded by mountains that are mountains, and great dense forests, and wide pastures with flocks and herds, and chalets that would stand on no chimney-piece or what-not. The grass of the meadows looks so green, so rich, so abundant, that while the eyes feast on it you experience not only a mental delight, but a physical exhilaration that renews your youth and stirs a whole world of memories. We recall how, in days gone by, we strolled, not alone, through the meadows and woods, greeted by the early song of the birds, ere the gentle morning breeze had dried the dew from the flowers.

Ah ! how happy we were in the little arbour hidden under the apple-trees, — we two alone, — no others near. There is no place like the country for love ; there she runs barefoot and free. It is such a joy to find one's self once more amidst those simple scenes ; among trees and fields and woods and hills and vales and streams. There is such a sweet breath of spring about it all. And we begin to believe once more in an idyllic life, — in faithful shepherdesses, and bliss in a cottage. We have already passed Delle, the first station on the Jura-Berne line. The train now traverses a pretty valley, through which clear, living streams are murmuring and leaping, winding and rushing; where mill-wheels are clatter ing merrily, and poplars stand in rows like soldiers formed in line, and red-roofed cottages lie half hidden among the tall herbage.

Suddenly, in the soft, rosy light of morning Porrentruy comes into view, with its white houses, its irregular roofs. MORNING IN THE MOUNTAINS. 7 its gay, many-coloured gardens, its castle still wrapped in slumber, with its old towers sharply defined against the pale grey sky. We stop for a few minutes at a very neat station, and when we set off again the scene is entirely changed. Dark firs, with great black drooping fringes, grow almost close down to the line, and the drops of resin, hanging like amber neck laces to the branches, glitter like gold. In some places the soil, rent into great fissures, has laid bare the rocks with their bright red veins. Great blocks that have rolled down into the valley lie at the edge of the way, and over these the briers trail their ragged draperies like a pauper's shroud.

And in the midst of this sadness and misery, careless Nature smiles gracefully through her flowers. Some of them are very small, shining out like pale stars from the moss that clothes the dead stones ; while others stand erect, proud and haughty, on their tall, straight stems, or wave in wanton clusters, or hang, like motionless butterflies, to the highest branches of a blackthorn. There is neither sound nor stir of life, — no song of bird or sudden movement of timid, startled creature in this desolate region. On the two opposite summits that overhang the valley, the firs, standing out black against the blue sky, frown down on us like the battlements of two rival fortresses between which we pass. Then the valley suddenly widens again, and we see in the distance a glittering church tower ; in another minute the village itself, with its large wooden houses, and from the open doors we hear the merry voices of children, the cackling of fowls and the lowing of cattle, mingled with the warm odour ofthe cow-houses.

A church bell is ringing. It is the hour for morning prayers. A few old women, prayer-book in hand, are slowly making their way to church with the help of their walking-sticks. Now we are at Delemont, which is shrouded in a thin veil of mist. The only thing visible is a grim-looking station ; then all vanishes. Next comes into view the little town of Grellingen, with its dilapidated bridge, and its picturesque little houses scattered along the side of the stream. And now the valley opens out still wider, and we begin to go down into the plain. Here are mowers knee deep in the hay, with sleeves rolled up from their brown arms, and broad hats drawn down over their eyes, making their scythes flash to and fro like lightning. Silvery spires rise behind the trees in an aureola of sun shine, sharply cut on the green background of the hills ; and the sky is intense, heavenly blue, with only a few flecks of pure fleecy cloud.

The train plunges with terrible jolting and clattering through a smoky passage, and guttural voices shoat " Basel ! " We have reached Basle at the morning hour when every housekeeper in Helvetia is steeping in her coffee the allotted number of obelisks of bread and butter. On the way into the town we pass the monument that commemorates the battle of St. Jaques. It stands close to the spot where a handful of Swiss held out for ten hours against the overwhelming onset of the French Dauphin's troops. The Confederate Cantons were at war with the men of Zurich, who supported the Emperor of Austria. They had laid siege to Zurich when news came that Charles VII. was sending troops to relieve the city. After the armistice with England, Prance had been overrun by disbanded and undisciplined troops, mercenaries of various nations, who devoured and plundered wherever they came.

The king fell on a happy expedient for ridding the country of their presence. He gathered them together under the leadership of the Count of Armagnac, and giving the supreme command of this army of adventurers, this promiscuous horde, to the Dauphin, he sent them against the Swiss. The Swiss leaders told off 600 men who remained en camped before Zurich, while the rest marched to meet the enemy. On the way they met two monks returning from BRAVE PATRIOTS. 9 the Council at Basle. " Go back," said the monks ; " in Heaven's name go back ! You are marching to certain death. The Armagnacs are a hundred thousand, and you are not two thousand ! " This was a greatly exaggerated statement ; but Hans Matter, the captain, made answer: " If it is so, if it is im possible that we should conquer, we will commit our souls to God, and our bodies to the Armagnacs !

" Near Prattelen they met and routed the advanced guard of the enemy, 8,000 strong. The Confederates had received orders not to cross the Birs, but they were drawn on in pursuit. In their eager ness they plunged in, swam across, gained the top of the opposite bank, and at once found themselves confronted by the troops commanded by the Dauphin in person. He received them with a fierce cannonade, which threw them into confusion. Pive hundred of them took refuge on an exposed island in the river, where they were slain to the last man. The remaining thousand entrenched, themselves in the chapel and hospital of St. Jaques. Twice the Armagnacs rushed to the attack, and twice they were repulsed. The Swiss, invaded on their own soil, fought with heroic fury in defence of their houses, tearing the enemy's arrows from their wounds to send them back dripping with blood.

At last the Dauphin gave orders to set fire to the hospital and chapel, and the heroes perished fighting amid the flames to their last breath. Of the whole little army, ten men alone, who had been separated from their brethren in the passage of the river, remained alive. When the field of battle lay under the pure moonlight like a lake of blood, the Chevalier Burkhard Monch walked proudly over the crimsoned soil. Spurning with his foot the corpses of the brave Swiss, he turned to the noblemen who accompanied him, with the smiling remark, " Now I bathe in roses ! " UNKNO WN SWITZERLAND. A wounded soldier hears the words. With his last strength he grasps a stone, half raises himself from the ground, and hurls it at the insolent speaker with the words, " There ! there is one more rose for you !

" The stone strikes Burkhard's forehead, and with a single cry he drops dead. Armagnac urged the Dauphin to follow up his victory. " That," replied the Dauphin, " is more than I can afford. Another such victory as this, and I might return home alone, on foot, and staff in hand." Eight thousand of the Dauphin's troops had fallen. He withdrew with the remains of his army into Alsace, and concluded a treaty of peace and alliance with the Con federates. When the Paris-Lucerne express arrives at Basle, there is an hour or two that may be spent in seeing the city. That is long enough. The principal objects of curiosity in Basle are its ancient-looking buildings, giving it the aspect of an old German city ; its fortress gates, flanked by towers which in olden times were connected by rampart walls ; its long, winding streets, dark and narrow, with here a flight of many steps, and there a steep paved slope ; its dull little squares, adorned with playing fountains, and some of the houses with many-gabled roofs, and windows still made with round panes set in a slender trellis work of lead.

The visitor should also notice the forged iron signs of the inns, hung from supports that look as light and delicate as lace work, and consisting of fantastic arabesques, conventional flowers, golden roses, heraldic birds, swans with expanded wings, wild men armed with clubs, or crowned lions bearing the sword and globe as emperors of the Holy Empire. The large number of historical houses shows how im portant a position this town formerly occupied in the world. The Emperor Rudolph of Hapsburg lodged at the Seiden hof; the conclave that elected Pope Felix II. was held in BUILDINGS OF BASLE. 11 the house Zur Miicke ; Erasmus lived in the house Zur Lust ; peace between Prussia and Prance was signed, in 1795, in the house Burkhard ; the members of the Convention who had been taken prisoners were exchanged for the Duchess of Angouleme in the house Hirsch.

The Town Hall occupies one side of a little square, in the middle of which a Gothic fountain sends up a pretty, bell shaped jet of water. The Hall has a magnificent, delicately carved front, with a fine clock, a belfry pointed like an arrow, fresco paintings, and a herald-at-arms in splendid plumes, bearing the coat of arms of Basle. Its iron gate is like a great window blind, embroidered in open work. All over there are statues, doors of carved wood, and, in a pro minent position, the escutcheon of Basle, held on one side by the Virgin and on the other by the emperor. A stone staircase, adorned with the statue of Munatius Plancus, the founder of the city, leads from the court to the vestibule on the first floor, where a Lutheran painter has depicted, according to his idea, some scenes of the last judgment.

A devil in yellow trousers, with a cock's head and a duck's feet, is throwing nuns, monks, a pope, and a courtesan into the flames ; while another, as green as a frog, is bringing a lectern on his shoulders ; and above him, in all the glory of Paradise, and under the eye of a figure meant to represent the Eternal, rosy, chubby-cheeked angels sound the resur rection trumpet. Religious disputes have always been carried on very keenly in Switzerland, and have everywhere left deep and permanent traces. When you go up from the Town Hall to the Cathedral, you see how it has suffered in those times of strife, — how volleys of stones have defaced and mutilated the saints mutely praying under the arches of its three doorways. But you quickly lose sight of these marks of violence in looking at the building as a majestic whole, with its two graceful towers terminating in spires carved in wavy lines like a delicate piece of goldsmith's work, and showing the light through innumerable openings ; and the grand out line of this huge red mass, thrown out from the deep blue of the sky like a mountain of porphyry hewn out by giants.

This cathedral of Basle is, like its sister temples on the banks of the Rhine, a truly magnificent building. It was begun in 1010, by the Emperor Henry II. , and built after the Byzantine school. Three centuries and a half later it was rebuilt in Gothic style. Proudly holding its place as the sentinel of an older time, on the bank of the river that flows at its feet, it looks right across the plain broken up into meadows, fields, and forests, to the great embattled ramparts of the High Alps, pencilled faintly afar on a turquoise sky. Close to the cathedral rise the graceful, tapering arches of an old cloister, where many, once full of eager, busy life now lie in their last long sleep. Under their cool shadow there is a sense of restful solitude, of quiet well-being, as if the soul had already laid aside its miserable garment of flesh and of pain.

In this quiet enclosure, pacing these long, melancholy arcades, beside all those silent dead, we feel as if we, like them, were delivered from all the troubles and torments of life. Those long aisles, paved with tombstones, were the favourite walk of Erasinus. When he stayed his steps at one of those deep Gothic windows looking towards the town, with its streets rising one above another like the tiers of a theatre, what looks of irony he must have cast at the world, — its juggling tricks, its false appearances, its hypo crisies, its roguery and falsehood ! At such times he was meditating, with a cynical smile on his face, on his " Praise of Polly," or composing his sceptical and bitter " Colloquia " between The Soldier and the Car thusian, The Abbe and the Blue-stocking, The Liar and the Man of Truth.

All the characters with wliich the public LITTLE BASLE. 13 were familiar in the comedy of the period,— monks and soldiers, scholars and pilgrims, women and abbes,— he drew to the life in those dialogues, full of pungent wit, in which he makes them speak and act in a terribly realistic manner. But now here we are on the terrace, in the cool, green shade of the great chestnut trees. The view that suddenly meets our eye is as charming as unexpected. At our feet flows the Rhine, already broad enough to reflect a cathedral or a citadel ; to the right, above the slopes that run down to the river, are seen fine trees, towers and pinnacles, weather-cocks and turret windows, mingling in delightful confusion amidst the uneven sea of old roofs ; to the left, terraced gardens with white retaining walls, the end of a steep street, and the great stone bridge that partly replaces the old wooden one.

On the opposite side, Little Basle presents the regular lines of its modern houses, broken here and there by a factory with its tall red chimney ; and beyond that, a vast plain, green as the Rhine, stretches away into the far distance, with little white points that are villages, and ribbons of silver that are brooks or rivers, or perhaps roads, with grey fringes, which are poplars, waving like plumes in the breeze. On the dim horizon, half seen through a silvery haze, the mountains crowd one on another, rank after rank, like a whole procession of pilgrims kneeling before the white marble shrine of the eternal snows. The two Basles have not always been good neighbours ; for a long time they lived like brothers at war. The in habitants of the left bank held themselves superior to those on the right ; and there is a tradition that, in order to insult tlieir rivals, they erected on the tower that guards the bridge a grotesque figure, which, at every quarter of an hour, thrust out its tongue towards Little Basle.