of any but his mother tongue, and we could not understand that. This was most amusing all round, and helped on the hours which might otherwise have hung heavy; for the boat stopped and stopped again, landing and taking in passengers at every village as we passed. Our young Teuton lacked but little of being as handsome as Paris, though it would have required a good deal to make him elegant. He smoked, drank beer, ate bread and cheese, played cards, and occasionally graced his conversation with expressions more emphatic than select; but he was very good-humored and exceedingly civil.

ZURICH.

Ar Zurich the landing-place is a beautiful little grove -an improvement upon all the steam-boat landings we have seen; and not a carriage was in waiting, everybody soberly walking their several ways from the boat, while the luggage was taken by porters. Ourselves and our affairs were transferred to a barge which was in attendance to carry strangers to the Hotel du Lac, which we preferred because it looked upon the lake, though we had afterwards reason to think we should have done better to choose the Hotel Baur, as it is situated in a more agreeable part of the town, and has an excellent reputation.

All the good that I can say of Zurich, must refer to its natural position; for the hand of man has added no beauty of any kind. All is stiff, awkward, heavy and

ungainly; just what a Dutch town would be if scattered about upon hills. The streets look clean, yet we met as many evil smells as at Rome; and the pavement of sharp stones is generally ungraced by sidewalks. The public buildings are of the plainest character, and most of the attempts at ornament complete failures. We saw few carriages of any description; and although we spent Sunday in the town, could not find many well-dressed people. But Zurich is the scene of the labors of Zuingle, and the birth-place of Lavater and Gessner; so we look upon it with respect, if not with admiration.

SUNDAY AT ZURICH.-What sunshine and what sweet air! The lake, blue as the sky, and spangled over with glittering ripples; the shores richly wooded, and enlivened everywhere by smiling farms; in the distance, but seeming near, a range of snowy peaks, making one feel as if a winter in heaven balanced the summer on earth. The effect of masses of snow in contrast with all the glow of summer is inconceivable. One's notions of climate are completely mystified.

The Lake of Zurich to-day looks as if some grand fête were in progress, so numerous are the gaily-painted boats darting here and there upon it, their scarlet awnings glancing, and their many-colored streamers playing with the breeze. This appearance is oddly contrasted with the excessively dull and commonplace air of the town itself, which has truly l'air bourgeois. Everything is hard, commonplace, and tasteless; the principal church, said to have been built in the time of Charlemagne, is bared of whatever genial decorations it may once have possessed, and the statues mounted upon some of the foun

tains are as graceless as mathematical diagrams. I think one might pick up fragments of stone among the Alpine valleys far worthier of places of honor. Perhaps if we had lodged in the more modern part of the town, the impression might have been different; but the pavement of sharp stones is to be found everywhere.

RIGI.

JULY 25.-We left Zurich at 8 o'clock, in the Diligence, wedged in with a variety of passengers, young and old. The weather continued delightful; and when we reached the foot of the Albis, several of the company chose to ascend that mountain on foot, while the coach took an easier and longer route. One of the pedestrians was a young German girl, going on a visit to some friends at a little distance. She was plain-looking, simply drest, and of no pretension; but her conversation was remarkably intelligent, and evinced both natural sensibility and good culture. Her way of speaking reminded me of some of Miss Bremer's characters, or perhaps, of Miss Bremer herself, speaking in her own character. There was a shrewd simplicity about it; and her manners were unaffectedly plain, though not unrefined. I found it very pleasant to exchange thoughts with her as we ascended the Albis, stopping here and there to look back and around, and repeat commonplaces about a landscape that has charmed all eyes for centuries. Our topics prolonged themselves so naturally, that we passed the brow of the

mountain, left the Diligence standing at the inn door, and continued our walk far down the descent towards Zug, before it overtook us. When our agreeable companion was about to say farewell, as we approached the residence of her friend, she expressed, in her modest and true way, her surprise and pleasure at finding English people willing to enter thus into conversation with a stranger. "Our idea of the English," she said, "is so different, so unjust, indeed! We suppose them to be almost universally so unsocial-so proud-." I explained; and was obliged to leave the English to defend themselves as best they may. Much as I admire and love them, I think they might learn some lessons from this frank and friendly Swiss maiden. Topffer, in his keen way, speaks of the English traveller as "gardant un quant à soi musqué et sentimental," and taking care to learn nothing from the people of the country.

At Zug we met an English gentleman and his family, in deep mourning, whose appearance interested us. They had just come from the Rigi, which was our next point of destination, and were not unwilling to tell us some things we wanted to know.

We went to walk on a pretty little promenade planted with rows of trees, jutting out into the lake, and commanding a beautiful view of it. The town is of the stillest, and the inhabitants seemed to have almost nothing to do but stand at the doors and windows, eat chestnuts, and stare at the few passers-by. We observed but few indications of trade or prosperity. One or two statues that we encountered were worse shaped than Dutch rag-babiesmore angular than Chinese puzzles. If the contempla

tion of grace and beauty has a refining and humanizing influence, it is to be hoped that the people of this region look far more at the prospect than at these ungainly works of their own. It is certainly a misfortune to have one's historical recollections connected with anything so very ugly.

The drive to Arth, principally by the lake shore, is charming. On the way we pass a small chapel, close to the road, on which are paintings in fresco,―figures in the picturesque costume of William Tell's time, personifying, our guide said, some of the Swiss cantons. Everything in this whole region breathes of the old Swiss spirit, except the people themselves. They have evidently become degenerate, under poverty and the temptations to idleness and extortion held out by the swarm of tourists.

At Arth we dined in a long room like a summer-house, hung with a multitude of prints, and garnished also with various Swiss curiosities. A long table was filled with travellers to and from the Rigi, and the dinner corresponded with the table. Such marchings and countermarchings, such shifting of plates and renewing of dishes -I thought we should never have done. All this time the day was waning, and one of our designs was to see the sun set from the Culm. At length the sitting ended; the horses were brought, the carpet bags strapped on, the cloaks arranged, and we set out; our company increased by several British travellers, who certainly did not deserve the national reproach of repulsiveness. A more chatty, laughing, insouciant set of tourists never climbed those rocky stairs together. We went in single file, with a guide to each lady's horse, and some of the gentlemen VOL. 11. 7