warmly espoused its cause, and thereby incurred the relentless hostility of the Duke, who caused him to be seized and imprisoned in the castle of Grolée, where he remained two years. On being restored to liberty he returned to his priory, but in 1528 he was again in arms against those who had seized his ecclesiastical revenues: the city of Geneva supplied him with the munitions of war, in return for which Bonnivard parted with his birthright, the revenues of which were applied by the Genevese to the support of the city hospital. Bonnivard was afterwards employed in the service of the republic, and in 1530, when travelling between Moudon and Lausanne, fell into the power of his old enemy, the Duke of Savoy, who caused him to be confined in the castle of Chillon. In 1536 he was restored to liberty by the Genevese forces of Nögelin; he returned to the republic, and was made a citizen. Bonnivard's subsequent existence was a stormy one, and he died in 1571, at the age of seventy-five years."

The Castle of Chillon is also celebrated as being the place where a part of the plot of Rousseau's celebrated "Nouvelle Héloise" is laid.

Clarens is all poetry, and little else, and Byron must again describe it to us, in the place which none would feel as if they had visited, did they not read it here :

"Clarens! sweet Clarens, birthplace of deep love!
Thine air is the young breath of passionate thought;
Thy trees take root in Love; the snows above

The very glaciers have his colours caught,
And sunset into rose-hues sees them wrought

By rays which sleep there lovingly the rocks,

The permament crags, tell here of Love, who sought

In them a refuge from the worldly shocks

:

Which stir and sting the soul with hope that woos, then mocks.

Clarens! by heavenly feet thy paths are trod―
Undying Love's, who here ascends a throne
To which the steps are mountains; where the god
Is a pervading life and light, -so shown

Not on those summits solely, nor alone

In the still cave and forest; o'er the flower
His eye is sparkling, and his breath hath blown
His soft and summer-breath, whose tender power
Passes the strength of storms in their most desolate hour.

'All things are here of him; from the black pines
Which are his shade on high, and the loud roar
Of torrents, where he listeneth to the vines

Which slope his green path downwards to the shore,
Where the bow'd waters meet him, and adore,
Kissing his feet with murmurs; and the wood,
The covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar,
But light leaves, young as joy, stands where it stood,
Offering to him and his a populous solitude-

A populous solitude of trees and birds,
And fairy-form'd and many-colour'd things,

Who worship him with notes more sweet than words,
And innocently open their glad wings,

Fearless and full of life; the gush of springs,

And fall of lofty fountains, and the bend

Of stirring branches, and the bud which brings
The swiftest thought of beauty, here extend,
Mingling and made by Love, unto one mighty end.

'Twas not for fiction chose Rousseau this spot,
Peopling it with affections; but he found
It was the scene which passion must allot
To the mind's purified beings; 'twas the ground
Where early Love his Psyche's zone unbound,
And hallowed it with loveliness; 'tis lone,

And wonderful, and deep, and hath a sound,

And sense, and sight of sweetness; here the Rhone

Hath spread himself a couch, the Alps have rear'd a throne."

Vevey (Grand Hotel de Vevey) is a delicious place in which one would love to linger. The views of the

lake and mountain scenery are exquisite, and the town seems designed for quiet pleasure. There are baths, rowing boats, a beautiful tropical garden, and a charming church (Saint Martin's) a little way out of the town. In the graveyard attached lie the remains of Ludlow, one of the judges who condemned King Charles I. to death, and Broughton, who read the sentence to the Martyr-King. There are two very lengthy inscriptions in Latin.

At Vevey there is held at irregular intervals, dependent upon good wine years, a curious festival called la Fête des Vignerons, under the auspices of a guild called "l'Abbaye des Vignerons." I was present at the last fête, held in 1865. Crossing from Bouveret, a miserable little neglected place where I had passed the night, I found at four o'clock in the morning, the unseemly hour fixed for the commencement of the fun, that Vevey was all alive; bells ringing, guns firing, banners waving, and-rain falling in torrents. A little later on, thousands of persons were strolling about, waiting for the rain to cease and the fête to commence with a grand allegorical procession. Every canton, with every peculiarity of local costume, was represented in the crowd. The head-gear was something fearful and wonderful. At ten o'clock the booming of cannon announced that the procession was on its way. Windows, roofs, and trees were thronged. And then came the procession-the Vintners with scarfs and medals, resembling the Masons or Foresters we see at home; then young men and maidens in dresses of all nations; then followed cars drawn by bullocks and horses. In one a girl at work with her spindle; in another a cooper carrying on his trade. Then came the Queen of Beauty in a car of exquisite grouping; then Ceres, then Pallas, then Bacchus, and all surrounded and accompanied with troops of representative characters-satyrs, fawns, gods,

shepherds, reapers, troop upon troop.

One of the prettiest

things was the harvest-home cart, with the farmer and his children a-top; and then followed tiny children leading pet lambs, and a bevy of charming girls leading, with strings of flowers and garlands, bullocks and other fat beasts. Never before had I seen so beautiful and interesting a procession; the nearest approach to it is perhaps the Preston Guild.

Then followed, in the vast amphitheatre (for which seats were selling at twenty francs a-piece) competitions, between the different cantons represented, in songs and dances and sports. There was to have been a Venetian fête on the lake at night; but the rain continuing, it was postponed till the next day; so I did not wait for it, but had seen enough of the Fête des Vignerons to feel justified in recommending any whenever it takes place again, to make a point of seeing it if possible.

FROM VEVEY TO NEUCHÂTEL.

A short but lovely ride brings us again to Lausanne, and as we have before visited this interesting town (see page 102), we shall only tarry here as long as may suit our convenience, and then take the train again for Neuchatel. The ride is again very pleasant. We pass the wooden town of Cossonay, and after a time arrive at Yverdon, at the south western extremity of the Lake of Neuchatel. Now we curve round the beautiful lake, having fine views of the Jura mountain. Grandson has a picturesque old castle, overgrown with ivy. Concise is celebrated for a battle against Charles the Bold of Burgundy. Boudry, from whence the Creux du Vent is ascended. (A strange phenomenon is to be seen here.) There is a basin at the top of the mountain, like a crater ; and when the weather changes, clouds of vapour roll within

it, but do not quit the hollow. A gunshot produces a rattling echo resembling that of a volley of musketry. Those who have not an opportunity of witnessing this strange phenomenon may produce a very miniature representation of it by filling a tumbler with smoke from a cigar, and witnessing the action of the atmostphere upon it-it will surge and roll like the sea.

NEUCHÂTEL.

Grand Hotel du Lac.

The city contains a population of 13,321 and is the capital of the canton from which it takes its name. It occupies a most interesting position on the slopes of the Jura, rising from the beautiful lake at its base in the form of an amphitheatre. The general aspects of the city are peculiarly inviting, the streets being open and admirably clean, and the principal buildings presenting a substantial, if not elegant, appearance. By the shore of the lake are rows of beautiful trees, which afford a delightful shade to promenaders. There is also a good supply of convenient seats facing the shore, and on a pedestal is fixed an instrument by which the names of the mountains within sight are identified. The Jura range of hills skirt the lake on the opposite side of the city, and on the back of that range are the Oberland Alps, most of which are covered with snow. The panorama, as viewed from the lake, is extremely interesting. There is about the people of the place an air of moral dignity and social comfort which well accords with the appearance of the place itself. Scholastic institutions, of the first class, abound both in the city and the surrounding localities, and it is hardly possible to walk abroad without recognising, by eye and ear, groups of charming English pupils. The endowments of