accordance with the peace and humility inculcated by the Gospel. Perhaps they may have been actuated by a somewhat too zealous ambition of being accounted worthy members of the church militant; for in one of the battles of the period, amongst the spoils of the field were shown the helmet and armour of a bishop of Sion who was slain in the encounter. One of the most renowned of their mitred warriors was Mathin Skimmir. His abilities as a politician were only equalled by his courage as a soldier, of which honourable mention is made at the sanguinary conflict of Marignan. A curious story is recorded of him. The preceding bishop had caused a representation of Saint Theodosius, in the act of fighting with the devil, to be struck on the coin of the bishoprick. The warrior bishop being a lover of simplicity, as well as of martial achievement, considering the device somewhat redundant of ornament, ordered the figure of the saint to be erased, thus leaving the devil in full possession of the coin. The prince of darkness by this means had his portrait pretty widely circulated by the authority of the bishop, who, it may be supposed, wished to inculcate a moral lesson by means of allegory.

There are some remains of Roman antiquities to be seen in the town of Sion. An inscription in honour of Augustus can yet be traced near the entrance to the cathedral. On the banks of the Rhone, and opposite to the town, is a deserted convent. It is hewn out of the solid rock, and contains chapel, cells, refectory, kitchens, and other apartments; but so wet from the continual damp, that it is matter of surprise how it could ever have been inhabited. There are numerous spots among

the rocks of the neighbourhood rendered sacred as the abodes of holy men. Many remains of hermitages are yet shown, each with some traditional history attached to them of the virtues or misfortunes of their ancient inhabitants.

Not long ago there was an individual who took up his residence in one of these obscure retreats, and lived there for some time without ever having been known to stir from beyond the precincts of the mountain. He was universally respected by the inhabitants of the country for his civil and unassuming manner, and was at last found dead in his cell by some travellers whom curiosity had induced to visit the hermitage. He was a stranger in the country, and no one knew whence he came or any thing of his history. It was supposed that he was a prey to some secret grief which eventually terminated his existence. An English gentleman, who was travelling in Switzerland some time since, gave the following account of his visit to the anchorite. Speaking of himself he said:

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Being in a more than usual degree beset with the infirmity so peculiar to travellers,-a love of the extraordinary,—I inquired of mine host, of the Lion d'or, with whom I had established a very friendly communication by means of praising his sour wine, as to the objects of curiosity in the neighbourhood. In the course of enumeration, on which he bestowed a considerable share of eloquence, that which mostly attracted my attention was the account he gave of a stranger who had chosen his abode in a deserted hermitage, in one of the wildest recesses of the mountains; nothing was known of him, but

from his piety, and the kindness of his manner, he had acquired, among the country people, a considerable share of respect. He had never been known to quit the dreary spot he had chosen.

"In what manner does he procure the necessaries of life?' I inquired.

"His wants are few,' returned the host, and the inhabitants of the country around take care the holy man does not perish for lack of the little he requires.'

"And what may be your opinion of this worthy?' I inquired of my host.

"Doubtless,' replied he, crossing himself devoutly, 'doubtless he devotes himself to that dreary solitude to atone for his sins.'

"I could not help shaking my head in doubt at this charitable conclusion.

"It is not impossible,' said I,' that this same hermit may be a wolf in sheep's clothing, who, tired of the profession of rogue, by which he may not have been a gainer, has determined to spend the rest of his life in sloth and indolence, still continuing, though in a safer way, to prey on the industry of others.'

"God forgive you,' said the host, for your uncharitable surmises; the poor man has worked early and late to learn some part of the business of watchmaking, and all his earnings he gives to the poor. As to the bread and fruit he receives from the peasants, he amply repays the value, by teaching them and their children the duties of men and christians.'

"I stood abashed before my host, and could have wished my unguarded expressions were recalled; but

I was always sceptical on the subject of monks and hermits, and required some proof to convince me of their sincerity.

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"There are, doubtless,' continued the landlord of the Golden Lion, conduct you have formed your opinion; but father Berthold is none of those. Many houseless poor and wandering strangers have received, with gratitude, the timely assistance which his little fund has afforded them, and frequent donations are sent by the charitable for him to distribute to the distressed.'

many impostors, from whose scandalous

My esteem for the recluse rose in proportion to the spirited and feeling eulogium passed on his virtues by the landlord, and I instantly conceived an earnest wish to visit his retreat. My imagination portrayed him as the victim of misfortune, seeking an asylum from the persecution of the world, and returning to mankind good for evil. My sympathy for his imaginary wrongs rose in proportion as my prejudice had been heretofore excited by his supposed hypocrisy.

"I resolved to visit the hermitage, more particularly as the landlord described the situation to be all that a lover of the picturesque and romantic could desire. It was noon when I set out on my excursion, accompanied only by a guide, my companions declining to be of the party. I did not regret their absence, for my thoughts were so occupied with the subject, which interested me, that I felt I should have been but a sorry companion. My guide did not interrupt me with the never-ending detail which some of those gentry possess, and we proceeded in silence towards the height where the recluse had his

rocky habitation. We had commenced the ascent of the mountain, the path was very steep, and every step became more difficult of access. We halted in a little plain, which seemed as though placed as a resting-place, previous to entering a gloomy-looking defile which led to the hermit's abode.

"The scene became singularly wild and sombre. A very narrow path led through this rocky pass, which we trod with great caution. Though it was but little after noon, the gloom was gradually increasing as we advanced. I found it was produced by large masses of overhanging rocks, which seemed suspended in the air above us, and crowned with thick foliage, that completely shadowed our path. As we proceeded the gloom became positive darkness, and, I must confess, I did not feel at all comfortable in my situation; but as I looked forward, I saw the dull twinkling of a solitary light, which seemed to proceed from the extremity of our unpleasant and even dangerous pathway. The guide informed me the light was placed there by the hermit, as a direction to his lonely retreat, for some accidents had occurred to the poor who had ventured thither without a guide.

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The passage now became excessively steep, and seemed as though it had been cut into the rude resemblance of a staircase. When, with great fatigue, we had nearly reached the summit, a most extraordinary cry was heard, which, reverberating amongst the recesses of this wilderness, conveyed a strange feeling of awe, amounting almost to terror. I looked to the place whence the sound proceeded, and I perceived, by the little light which the lamp afforded, a large dog standing on a pro