rises at the south-west extremity of the canton, runs northward through the fine district called the Entlibuch, and then flows north-east until it meets the Reuss. A succession of high grounds, running across the middle of the canton, divides the basin of the Reuss from that of the Aar, to which latter river the northern part of Lucerne belongs. The Suhren flows out of the Sempacher Lake, which is in the centre of the canton, and from this part of Switzerland other waters have their rise.

The only mountains in the canton are at its southern extremity, on the borders of the Unterwalden and the Bernese Oberland. None of them attain the limits of perpetual snow. The highest is Mount Pilatus, south-west of the town of Lucerne, and a conspicuous feature in its landscape. It is, in fact, a mountain group, nearly thirty miles in length, extending along the borders of Lucerne and Unterwalden, and having seven peaks or summits.

The name of Pilatus is said to be derived from the Latin word "pileatus," because the mountain-top is often covered with clouds as with a hat. The local legend of the peasantry derives it from Pilate, the governor of Judea, who is said to have wandered into Helvetia, and to have drowned himself in a lake on this mountain. It is also called Fracmont, "Monsfractus," because its sides, especially towards Lucerne, look broken, craggy, and inaccessible. The southern side towards Alpnach, in Unterwalden, is less abrupt, and it is covered with forests which belong to that canton. The most practicable path for ascending the mountain is on that side. The view from its summit is very extensive. The soil of Lucerne is fertile; it is one of the very few cantons of Switzerland which produces more corn than it consumes, and the excess is purchased by the neighbouring cantons. Fruit trees are also abundant, but the vine is cultivated only in some favourable situations. The rearing of cattle is the principal branch of industry in a great part of the canton, especially in the Entlibuch. In some districts of the canton are manufacturers of linen and cotton goods. The trade between Switzerland and Italy by the St. Gothard, employs a number of people, and all the goods pass through Lucerne and the lake of the Waldstatten.

The town of Lucerne is situated at the western extremity of the lake, and is divided into two unequal parts by the Reuss, which rises out of it. The larger part, which is on the right bank, is built on the slope of a hill, and the whole is surrounded by old walls flanked by houses, and has a fine appearance from the lake, being in the midst of a delightful and well-wooded country, interspersed with neat dwellings, with Mount Pilatus rising on one side, and Mount Righi on the opposite side of the lake. The interior of the town is not so pleasant, the streets being narrow, uneven, and ill-paved. The three covered wooden bridges are its chief curiosities; they are built on the lake, and serve as a promenade.

The Hofbrücke, the largest of them, was originally 1,380 feet in length, but it has lost within the last twenty years, a fifth of " its fair proportions." Rude old sketches adorn these bridges; all the scenes of the Old Testament being suspended above on one, and all the scenes of the New on another. In the roof of one bridge are represented the heroic personages of native Swiss history, and in another the strange array of Holbein's Dance of Death. Wordsworth says, that "these pictures are not to be spoken of as works of art, but they are instruments admirably answering the purpose for which they were designed." He thus beautifully alludes to some of these devices :

"One after one its Tablets that unfold
The whole design of Scripture history;
From the first tasting of the fatal Tree,
Till the bright star appeared in eastern skies,
Announcing One was born mankind to free;
His acts, his wrongs, his final sacrifice;
Lessons for every heart, a Bible for all eyes.

"Long may these homely works devised of old,
These simple efforts of Helvetian skill,
Aid, with congenial influence, to uphold
The State, the Country's destiny to mould;
Turning, for them who pass, the common dust
Of servile opportunity to gold;

Filling the soul with sentiments august,

The beautiful, the brave, the holy, and the just!"

One of the most remarkable things Lucerne contains, is a topographic map, in relief of the country round the Waldstatten See. It was constructed of wax, pasteboard, and resin, by the late General Pyffer, and cost him ten years of labour. It is twenty-two feet long, and thirteen wide, and contains the cantons of Uri, Schwitz, Unterwalden, Zug, and part of Lucerne.

In a secluded spot, near Lucerne, is the monument erected in 1821 to the memory of the Swiss guards who fell in defence of the Tuilleries against the mob of Paris, on the 10th of August, 1792. It consists of a wounded and dying lion, of colossal size, in altorelievo, sculptured on the side of a rock, in a kind of niche. The model for it was sent by Thorwaldsen from Rome. The names of the officers, twenty-six in number, who with seven hundred and sixty soldiers fell on that memorable occasion, as well as those of the sixteen officers who, with about three hundred and fifty of the soldiers that survived, are engraved underneath. The lion is represented grasping a shield with a fleur-de-lis upon it, and a bundle of broken arms, with the Swiss cross, are lying on one side. It is the work of Ahorne, a sculptor of Constance.

The neighbourhood of Lucerne recals to the mind a terrific catastrophe.

"Mountains have fallen,

Leaving a gap in the clouds, and with the shock
Rocking their Alpine brethren; filling up

The ripe green valleys with destruction's splinters;
Damming the rivers with a sudden dash

Which crushed the waters into mist, and made
Their fountains find another channel-thus,

Thus, in its old age, did Mount Rosenberg."

The summer of 1806 had been very showery, and on the first and second of September it rained incessantly. In the side of the mountain new crevices were observed, a sort of crackling noise was heard internally, stones started out of the ground, detached fragments of rocks rolled down the mountain; and in the afternoon of the second of September, a larger rock became loose, and in falling raised a cloud of black dust. At the lower part of the mountain the ground seemed pressed down from above, and when a stick or a spade was driven in, it moved of itself. Soon after this a fissure, larger than all the rest, was observed almost insensibly to increase; springs of water ceased suddenly to flow, the pine trees reeled, and the birds flew screaming away.

Two or three hours after this the symptoms of some mighty catastrophe became still stronger; the whole surface of the mountain began to slide slowly down, but the inhabitants had sufficient time to run away. An old man who had often predicted some such disaster, was quietly smoking his pipe, when told by a young man, running by, that the mountain was in the act of falling; he rose and looked out, but went into his house again, saying he had time to fill another pipe. The young man, continuing to fly, was thrown down several times, and escaped with difficulty; looking back, he saw the house carried off all at once.

Another of the inhabitants, being alarmed, took two of his children and ran away with them, calling to his wife to follow with the third; but she went in for another, who still remained—Marianne, aged five. Just then Francisca Ulrich, their servant, was crossing the room with this Marianne, whom she held by the hand, and saw her mistress; at that

instant, as Francisca afterwards said, "the house appeared to be torn from its foundation. (it was of wood), and spun round and round like a tetotum; I was sometimes on my head, sometimes on my feet, in total darkness, and violently separated from the child." When the motion stopped she found herself jammed in on all sides, with her head downwards, much bruised, and in extreme pain. She supposed she was buried alive at a great depth; with much difficulty she disengaged her right hand and wiped the blood from her eyes.

Presently she heard the faint moans of Marianne, and called to her by name; the child answered that she was on her back among stones and bushes, which held her fast,

but that her hands were free, and that she saw the light, and even something green; she asked whether people would not soon come to take them out. Francisca answered that it was the day of judgment, and that no one was left to help them, but that they would be released by death, and be happy in heaven; they then prayed together. At last Francisca's ears were struck by the sound of a bell, which she knew to be that of Stenenberg; then seven o'clock struck in another village, and she began to hope there were still living beings, and endeavoured to comfort the child; the poor little girl was at first clamorous for her supper, but her cries soon became fainter, and at last quite died away. Francisca, with her head still downwards, and surrounded by damp earth,

experienced a sense of cold in her feet almost insupportable; after prodigious efforts, she succceded in disengaging her legs, and thinks this saved her life.

Many hours had passed in this situation, when she again heard the voice of Marianne, who had been asleep, and now renewed her lamentations. In the meantime, the unfortunate father, who, with much difficulty, had saved himself and two children, wandered about till daylight, when he came among the ruins to look for the rest of his family he soon discovered his wife, by a foot which appeared above ground; she was dead, with a child in her arms. His cries and the noise he made digging were heard by Marianne, who called out. She was extricated with a broken thigh, and saying that Francisca was not far off, a further search led to her release also, but in such a state that her life was despaired of; she was blind for some days, and remained subject to convulsive fits of terror. It appeared, on subsequent examination, that the house, or themselves at least, had been carried down about 1,500 feet.

In another place a child two years old was found unhurt, lying on its straw mattress upon the mud, without any vestige of the house from which it had been separated. Such a mass of earth and stones rushed at once into the lake of Lowertz, although five miles distant, that one end of it was filled up, and a prodigious wave passed completely over the island of Schwanan, seventy feet above the usual level of the water, overwhelmed the opposite shore, and, as it returned, swept away into the lake many houses with their inhabitants. The chapel of Olten, built of wood, was found half a league from the place it had previously occupied, and many large blocks of stone completely changed their position.