name of dessert ;-that "eternal pair," which, with all the pertinacity of " Di tanti palpiti" and the "Hunter's Chorus," pursue the way-worn traveller from one end of Switzerland to the other. Dinner will in due time be demolished, be it tough or tender; and a little before the hour appointed by my friends of the morning, I was retracing my steps toward L'Abbaye.

It was a lovely July evening: the lake shone like a mirror,-bright rays of sunlight streamed through the dark pines, and steeped in rich gold the mountain verdure.

As I wound along the water-side, my ears were greeted by sweet strains of music; and on drawing nearer to the village, I saw that the shore was crowded with gay groups of peasants, all in their holiday attire. A band of native musicians were playing the Ranz des Vaches, and a joyous chorus of young voices swelled the strain of this

"Old song, the precious music of the heart."

I soon found myself once more within the precincts of the garden, which was now so crowded, that I had some difficulty in making my way toward the arbour. The good Pastor was seated beneath his arch of triumph, surrounded by twelve of his oldest parishioners; and the table before them was amply spread with all the luxuries my little friends had so much vaunted. I was quickly recognized, and duly presented to the hero of the feast, who received me with infinite courtesy, and insisted on my sharing the honours of his rural Dais. I pleaded my unworthiness in vain, and was finally constrained to accept of this unmerited distinction. Nothing could be more pleasing than

the manners and appearance of the Pastor. I had expected to find him old and venerable; but, for the sake of his little flock, I was rejoiced to see him a man still in the prime of life, whose healthy and happy countenance gave hopes that his useful labours might be pursued for a long course of years. With smiles of benevolence he received the warm greetings of his rustic friends, as from time to time they approached him; the old hobbling up to invoke blessings on his head,-the young presenting their little offerings of fruits and flowers,-sturdy fathers shaking him heartily, yet respectfully, by the hand, and happy mothers bringing their infants to look at the good minister who had already consecrated them in their innocence, and would in time instruct them in their responsibility-all seemed, in short, to look upon him as the centre of every thing most sacred and dear to them-as the dispenser of their best comforts for the present, and their holiest hopes for the future.

The little Caton played a very busy part in this pleasing drama. Her offering, it appeared, had long ago been made and accepted; for Bully and his bowery cage hung up in triumph within the honoured precincts of the very arbour itself; and he occasionally contrived to make himself heard, through the pauses of the music on the shore, which now played lively tunes to groups of happy dancers, footing it blithely, if not lightly, on the smooth greensward that reached down to the water. When the gouter was finished, and just as Monsieur J, was proposing to me a stroll amongst these merry groups, the most aged man

of the company came forward, and after a short address, homely, indeed, in expression, but replete with the true eloquence of the heart, presented to the Pastor, in the name of his little community, a beautiful gold watch, in the construction of which, he assured him, that the father of every family in his parish had had some share. They had no better way, he added, of showing their gratitude to him, whose every hour was employed in their service.

The good Mons. J., surprised and delighted, seemed almost at a loss how to acknowledge the precious gift. He was still more overcome, when the old man suddenly touched a spring, and the watch struck up the well-known air-"Où peut-on être mieux qu'au sein de sa famille ?"*

Tears stood in the eyes of the amiable Pastor, at this new proof of the devotion of his flock. "Dear friends and dear children," cried he, "you have here enshrined the sentiment which has possessed my heart ever since I have dwelt amongst you, and which, from this day, will be cherished with redoubled fervour. Never will I forsake you never can I forget your affection. I pray God to continue his blessing on my humble labours, that, through his grace, walk amongst you whilst living, repose

I

may

+"Where can one be happier than in the bosom of one's family?" This beautiful air, which really was employed in the manner here recorded, is associated with another anecdote of a very different nature. It is said to have been the favourite of Napoleon; and in the midst of the horrors of the Russian retreat, the soldiers had it continually played to him, as the only reproach in which they dared to indulge.

beside you when dead, and recognize the same dear family in heaven!"

Years have passed since this happy evening; long and far have been my wanderings, and no tidings have ever more reached me from the little valley of the Jura: yet my heart often turns to the interesting scene, and would fain hope, that happiness and peace are still presiding over that innocent flock, and the good Pastor of the Lac de Joux.

HYMN.

BY JOHN BOWRING.

THE everlasting streams which flow
In Eden's garden, by whose side
Immortal trees and flow'rets grow-
Are from that mighty fount supplied,
Which to our lowlier earth has given
Streams pure and fresh as those of heaven.

The music whose enchanting strains

Are waked by angels-first was taught By Him who to our groves and plains The melodies of Nature brought;

And those, like these, commingling blend, And to His hallowed seat ascend.