quities still bespeaking their ancient uses. The present government for these people have thrown off the Prussian yoke, once their choice when two evils were presented and govern themselves in a very democratic sort of way, by a president and council-occupies a large part of the castle, for rooms of state and the residence. of some of the officers. All this was politely shown us by one of those gentlemen, who took much pains to give us whatever facilities we desired.

We descended to the plain, not by the steep paved street by which we had come up, but by a fine zigzag walk, planted with trees-a public garden, indeed, made on the face of the precipice, in the same manner as that on the Pincian Hill, at Rome. But we must not think of the splendid Pincian, if we would admire the doings of the town-council of Neuchâtel.

Through the side of this hill, at a little distance from the public walk, a huge tunnel empties itself by a roaring stream into the lake-an expensive and very substantial work, by means of which some water from the mountains, which formerly spread through the town, and made it unhealthy, is carried off. The Neuchâtelois are evidently a thriving people, with a good deal of public spirit. I marvel how they can spare such a citizen as Agassiz.

Aarburg is entirely surrounded by the river when the water is high, but it has several covered bridges, and is a busy place. The Lake of Bienne, famous both for its soft, natural beauty, and for enclosing the island of St. Pierre, so long the favorite residence of Rousseau, would have detained us if we had dared to follow the inclina

tion of the moment. It is beautiful indeed, and seems to offer the beau ideal of rural solitude. Some picturesque towers grace its outlet—a feature which never tires in the landscape. At first it troubled me that I did not know the history of each of these ancient landmarks,—indeed one's ignorance is the most pressing trouble in travelling in Europe; but on the whole I am rather pleased not to know anything but the actual beauty of the object in its present state; for knowledge produces in some degree the effect of criticism or analysis-it somewhat chills spontaneous pleasure, or changes, at least, the nature of our pleasure. When we walk in a garden, it adds nothing to the pleasure of any one but a botanist to know the learned names of the flowers. The pleasure of travelling in these old countries is certainly owing largely to association, but I think general rather than particular association in most cases. Those who have travelled know the difficulty of bringing home the tradition or the history to the spot at the moment. I think interest of this sort requires some sojourn to make it available.

The road from Bienne to Bâle leads us through the Jura by a wild, rocky mountain pass, walled in by such huge defences, that it is hard to believe that man and gunpowder have not had their share in making the way. I even fancied that I saw the marks of boring in the rocks, but am assured that this chasm in the everlasting flint is the work of Nature. In the midst of this wildness, at the picturesque village of Lauffen, we saw a curious funeral procession-composed entirely of women and girls, with the exception of the priest, two boys bearing candles, and two men who bore the coffin. It was

that of a woman, whose days had "dwindled to the shortest span," and her body with them, so that it seemed like that of a child. They said she was a hundred years old; had lived alone, and been found dead in her bed. The procession was carefully marshalled so as to put the smallest girls in front; and so on, by regular gradations, until a band of old women brought up the rear-perhaps thus figuratively showing forth the course of life. There was something very pretty in this feminine train, as it wound slowly down a steep path to the church, while we could hear the chanting, sweet at least in the distance.

BÂLE.

Hotel des Trois Rois-whose gilded effigies adorn the front of the building. This is directly on the Rhine, which is here a magnificent stream, requiring a large and strong bridge, which adds much to the beauty of the view. It was here that the allied sovereigns passed the Rhine in 1816. On this bridge is the statue which makes faces, lolling out its tongue at Little Bâle on the other side of the river, but we did not go to look at this memento of old wars. The cathedral is much injured in appearance by having been painted red-a strange taste. In the interior is the tomb of Erasmus.

We were excessively disappointed in the "Holbein gallery," from which we had expected much. We saw more that expressed Holbein's power, and justified his re

putation, in the Bodleian library at Oxford, than in this gallery of the city which he called his home.

The women of Bâle wear on the top of their heads an enormous bow of black ribbon, which, though not ungraceful, gives them a most peculiar appearance. This city has been remarkable for its sumptuary laws. It is highly republican-even democratic-repudiating all distinctions of birth.

STRASBURG.

SPIRES are said to point the way to heaven, and that of Strasburg cathedral accompanies the traveller a good part of the way. As we approach the city from Bâle, this stone needle becomes visible long before we can discern anything else about it. Our first care, after a little refreshment of our unutterable weariness, was to seek out this wonder of the ages, and contemplate its delicate beauty long and silently by moonlight. How difficult it is to appreciate such immense height! In this case, the houses are themselves so high, as if in emulation, that we have not as good a standard as usual by which to measure the height of the church. Its beauty, however, needs no such aid. The stone seems rather to have been moulded by the artist's thought, than by ordinary, mortal means. The stars which shine through the openwork of the spire look as if they were caged in it, and fitly; it would be a good hovering-place for celestial con

vocations.

Daylight always diminishes, somewhat, cathedral beauty; but this church bears the ordeal as well as any, for the endless elaboration well repays close study, even after the mind has possessed itself of the general effect. The interior, too, is beautiful; one column in particular, which is completely encrusted with rich sculptures, and rare and curious things. The wonderful clock, which teaches the sun and moon their courses, calculates eclipses, and does all sorts of learned marvels, and then crows over its own achievements, is a mere toy, in presence of so much grace and beauty. Here is rich stained glass again-oh! how different from the staring, gaudy thing so called which decorates (?) our little churches at home. The circular, or marigold window here, is forty-eight feet across, and of a magnificent gem-like gorgeousness of color. After the cathedral we visited the monument to Kleber, in the worst possible taste, like nearly all the French monuments we have seen-and that to Gutenburg-most interesting and expressive.

We went next (as per guide-book,) to the church of St. Thomas, to see the monument of Marshal Saxe-the usual jumble of ideal figures and real ones. The figure of the hero himself is I think the best thing, but a statue which personifies France is most admired. There are two bodies preserved in glass coffins in this church-a father and daughter; not very beautiful now, certainly; but I rather like to look at such relics. How the Count and the young lady would have relished the prospect of being stared at in their "grinning honor," for so much a head, is a question which pressed a little on my conscience. They are dressed in the costume of their day, but very