cended. We looked right and left for a more feasible spot, but descried none. Having regained the snows above, we cautiously skirted the precipice, until we should find a place favourable to the attempt. At length the rocks became mostly masked under steep snow slopes, and down one of them, Praloug, with no common courage, proposed to venture, and put himself at once in the place of danger. We were now separated by perhaps but 200 feet from the glacier beneath. The slope was chiefly of soft deep snow, lying at a high angle. There was no difficulty in securing our footing in it, but the danger was of producing an avalanche by our weight. This, it may be thought, was a small matter, if we were to alight on the glacier below; but such a surface of snow upon rock rarely connects with a glacier without a break, and we all knew very well that the formidable Bergschrund' crevasse, which I had seen from a distance with my telescope, was open to receive the avalanche and its charge, if it should take place. We had no ladder, but a pretty long rope. Praloug was tied to it. We all held fast on the rope, having planted ourselves as well as we could on the slope of snow, and let him down by degrees, to ascertain the nature and breadth of the crevasse, of which the upper edge usually overhangs like the roof a cave, dropping icicles. Were that covering to fail, he might be plunged, and drag us, into a chasm beneath. He, however, effected the passage with a coolness which I have never seen surpassed, and shouted the intelligence that the chasm had been choked by previous avalanches, and that we might pass without danger. He then (having loosened himself from the rope) proceeded to explore the footing on the glacier, leaving me and the other two guides to extricate ourselves. I descended first by the rope, then Biona, and lastly Fairray, who, being unsupported, did not at all like the slide, the termination of which it was impossible to see from above. We then followed Praloug, and proceeded with great caution to sound our way down the upper glacier of Zmutt, which is here sufficiently steep to be deeply fissured, and which is covered with perpetual snow, now soft with the heat of the morning sun. It was a dangerous passage, and required many wide circuits. But at length we reached, in a slanting direction, the second terrace or precipice of rock which separates the upper and lower glacier of Zmutt, and which terminates in the promontory of Stockni. When we were fairly on the debris, we stopped to repose. and to congratulate ourselves on the success of this difficult passage." FALL OF THE ROSSBERG.1 I SHALL here give some of the most authentic and interesting circumstances of the fall of the Rossberg, taken from the narrative published at the time by Dr. Zay, of Art, an eye-witness: "The summer of 1806 had been very rainy; and on the first and second of September it rained incessantly. New crevices were observed in the flank of the moun tain; a sort of cracking noise was heard internally; stones started out of the ground; detached fragments of rocks rolled down the mountain. At two o'clock in the afternoon, on the second of September, a large rock became loose, and in falling raised a cloud of black dust. Toward 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. A man, who had been digging in his garden, ran away from fright at these extraordinary appearances; soon a fissure, larger than all the others, was observed; insensibly, it increased; springs of water ceased all at once to flow, the pine-trees of the forest absolutely reeled; birds flew away screaming. A few minutes before five o'clock, the symptoms of some mighty catastrophe became still stronger; the whole surface of the mountain seemed to glide down, but so slowly as to afford time to the in(1) From Simond's Switzerland. habitants to go 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 came 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 inhabitant, 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 teetotum; I was sometimes on my head, and 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 her by her 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 then something green; she asked whether people would not come soon to take them ont. 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 prayed together; at last Francisca's ear was 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, still with her head downwards, and surrounded with damp earth, experienced a sense of cold in her feet almost insupportable; after prodigious efforts, she succeeded 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. cries and the noise he made in 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 that the house, or themselves at least, had been carried down about one thousand five hundred feet from where it stood before. His In another place a child two years old was found unhurt, lying on his straw mattress upon the mud, without any vestige of the house from which he had been separated. Such a mass of earth and stones rushed at once into the lake of Sowertey, although five miles distant, that one end of it was filled up, and a prodigious wave passing completely over the island of Schwanau, 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." Biographical Sketches of Eminent Painters. CLAUDE GELEE DE LA LORRAINE. THE name of Claude is ever associated in the mind with the idea of beautiful landscape scenery, glowing skies, brilliant sunset, and soft moonlight. His native place was Chamagne, in La Lorraine, which was formerly a sovereign Duchy, but was afterwards annexed to France. Claude was born in 1600, and in the early part of his life, during which he served an apprenticeship to the trade of a pastry-cook, he did not give any promise of that surprising genius which afterwards delighted the world. Claude de la Lorraine was but little indebted to any master, excepting to Agostino Tassi, an eminent Italian painter, and a disciple of Paul Bril, who, though a Fleming, had studied at Rome. Agostino Tassi taught Claude some of the rules of perspective, and the method of preparing his colours. It required great labour at first to make him comprehend the rudiments of the art, but when he began to understand them, his mind seemed at once to expand, his imagination became lively, and he pursued his studies with ardour and perseve rance. He devoted himself to the examination of the beauties and varieties of nature with unwearied assiduity, and for that object he frequently remained in the open fields from sun-rise until evening closed in. He made a practice of sketching whatever he considered beautiful or striking, and he marked in his drawings every curious tinge of light, on all kinds of objects, with a corresponding colour. By these means he perfected his landscapes, and gave them an appearance of reality, which no artist in that style ever equalled. He painted with great care, and spared no pains to render his pictures as true to nature as possible. Claude de la Lorraine was remarkable for the exactness with which he painted in fresco; the distinct species of every tree being easily perceived in his large compositions. One of his works in that manner of painting, was on the four walls of a magnificent saloon at Rome, in the mansion of a nobleman named Mutius. The saloon was very lofty. On one side the artist represented the ruins of an ancient palace, and an extensive grove of trees; the form, stems, bark, branches and foliage, were beautifully delineated, and the perspective was admirable. The second side of the saloon, which seemed to be a continuation of the same scene, displayed a vast plain, interspersed with mountains and waterfalls, and a variety of trees and plants. Travellers and animals gave additional life to this picture, which appeared to be connected with the third side, on which the lengthened prospect discovered a sea-port at the foot of some high hills, with a view of the ocean, and vessels tossed on the agitated waves. On the fourth wall were caverns among barren rocks, ruins, and fragments of antique statues. This composition, though divided into so many parts, formed one connected prospect, and it has been said that no power of language could sufficiently express the beauty, truth, and variety of it. Claude did not excel in drawing figures, and usually engaged some eminent artist to paint them the harbour. In the centre is the sea, which extends to the verge of the horizon, and is covered with vessels, barques, and boats, filled with people. On the left, the principal object is part of a vast temple, or public edifice, and there are also mansions of elegant construction, and redoubts for the protection of the merchandize deposited in the warehouses. These buildings extend as far as the pharos at the entrance of the port. The effect of this picture is charming; the hour is shortly after sun-rise; the sky is clear, the rays of the sun are reflected on the surface of the water, and the rise and fall of the rippling waves could not be more beautifully imitated. which the figures are by Claude himself, is delightThe composition of this interesting picture, in ful; every object is represented in its true character, and all parts harmonize with each other. Claude was fond of painting subjects of this nature, and there are some beautiful pictures of a similar description, executed by him, to be seen in the National Gallery in London. Claude de la Lorraine died at Rome, in 1682, aged eighty-two. Poetry. [In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.] DORA. WITH farmer Allan at the farm abode And yearn'd towards William; but the youth, because Then there came a day I married late, but I would wish to see "I cannot marry Dora; by my life, I will not marry Dora." Then the old man And I have sinn'd, for it was all through me child." And all the things that had been. She bow'd down So the women kiss'd Each other, and set out, and reach'd the farm. I had been a patient wife: but, Sir, he said So Mary said, and Dora hid her face By Mary. There was silence in the room; "I have been to blame-to blame. I have kill'd my son. I have kill'd him-but I loved him-my dear son. Then they clung about The old man's neck, and kiss'd him many times. So those four abode 210. LEGEND OF SIR MOROLT AND THE SWART HUNTSMAN. AN OLD ENGLISH STORY. And now from the rich golden chalice, that's torn SIR MOROLT LAMANLEY he prays of the King (Twas the wild reckless Rufus,) to grant him a thing, "The lands of St. Juste, be they mine for a chase, While the pale mumping hoodsman is driven from his Now afoot are strange murmurs, strange whispers afloat place." On the chase of St. Ruth, how scared peasants note Other huutsmen than who to Sir Morolt belong, Loud laugh'd the Red Monarch as blithe brimmed the Yet they hunt on his manors, all reckless of wrong. bowl, 'Twas a prayer to his liking, a man to his soul; With bell, book, and candle, the beadsmen may curse, Swart are those strange huntsmen, and swart, swart And hollow and dreary their wild bugle sounds; With a spur red with speed, with a plume stained with But liker the fiends that midst hell's torments howl. dust, Sir Morolt rides on to the towers of St. Juste; They are seen in the midnight, and lated hinds quail; With him are squire, yeoman, and henchman, and They are seen in the twilight, and maidens turn pale; They are seen at broad noontide, and armed men change In wrath, at the crew rode Sir Morolt amain; As the hawk recks the heathcock, the hound recks the hare, But, snorting, his steed started back from the train. So his men-at-arms reck men of shrift and of prayer. "Twixt a cross, that his own hands broke down, and a stone The Pagan Dane worshipped, Sir Morolt is thrown! His life-blood empurples the cross he profaned; Knight, squire, leman, groom, from St. Ruth's fly as fast Tis said, near the spot where Sir Morolt was slain, Then loud laugh'd Sir Morolt; he laugh'd out with There is glimpse of the swarthy and fiend-looking train; |