landed at a narrow stairway of stone, which led to a small covered passage conducting to the interior of the court-yard of the Castle. Here we encountered a huge figure, round as a tun, who certainly would have been taken by the ancients, as an embodiment of Bacchus. He desired us to wait a moment, when his wife would conduct us through the Castle. Presently a smart, tidy-looking female, with a pair of sharp, quick grey eyes, shaded by the broad rim of a tasteful Swiss hat, offered to conduct us. Passing on with our guide, who talked incessantly, we descended some stone steps which led down into a vaulted space, supported by several stone pillars, connected together by admirably turned arches, and lighted by small narrow windows on the side next the Lake. This was once the old Guard Chamber of the Castle. Then came a dark Hall, where the light was so scant, we were forced to grope our way over the uneven floor, which like the landward wall, is composed of massive rock. Into this place had once been crowded hundreds of Jews, and we felt, for we could hardly be said to see, the ledge of rock, on which a thousand or more had been strangled in one day for the good of the Church. Above we could just discern the outline of the beam, from whose strong support had dangled many a poor wretch, who, after being condemned in the Judgment Hall above, was brought down that dark stairway, to expiate his doom here. That half walled-up space on the side next the Lake, indicates where once was the opening through which their mutilated bodies were launched into the water, that rolls,

"A thousand feet in depth below."

But soon we were standing within

"Chillon's dungeon deep and old."

the dungeon of Bonnivard. Here the heroic defender of Genevan liberty languished six years chained to a pillar. It looked not unlike a chapel, with its groined roof and central row of columns, "massy and grey." Its light was that of a pleasant twilight. Two or three narrow slits, high up the wall, admitted the rays which had a greenish hue from the reflection of the waters of the Lake. The effect was rather heightened by the light breeze, which kept flapping the huge leaf of some aquatic plant directly opposite "the Martyr's Pillar." How sweet the rays of sunlight must have been to the Prior of St. Victor! and how often during the long hours of his six years' confinement, must his eyes have turned towards these narrow windows as the bright rays streamed in upon his dungeon floor. The iron ring still remains in the pillar to which he was chained, and we saw in the stone floor, where

"His very footsteps had left a trace,

Worn, as if the cold pavement were a sod."

Upon this Pillar, one may read the names of Byron, Leigh Hunt, and other celebrities. This dungeon, though many others suffered there, had its one great captive -the illustrious Bonnivard, and his image stands out boldly from amongst them all. The rooms above had their thousand sufferers, and were suggestive of cruel scenes. Of their names few remain, although the instruments on which they were racked and torn to pieces, still are there. Emerging from this prison, we entered the spacious apartment just above them, which evidently had once been the Hall of Torture, for here with the rust and stain of centuries upon it, still stands the gaunt and grim apparatus of the Inquisition. In the middle of the room

was a massive beam, reaching from the floor to the ceiling with a strong pulley at the top. This was the "Corda," the queen of torment, as it has been called. The person who endured this torture was suspended by his hands from the pulley, heavy weights were fastened to his feet, and when all was ready, he was slowly hoisted to some distance, and then suddenly dropped. This always dislocated the arms, and sometimes the weight was so great, that the arms were torn from the body. Hot irons were often affixed to the soles of the feet, while, they hung suspended, and the scorching marks of the fire are still plainly visible on the pillar, where the poor sufferers had hung. In one of the apartments, we were shown a recess in the wall, with a trap door at the bottom. The person accused of heresy was made to kneel on a trap door before an image of the Virgin placed in this very recess. To prevent the possibility of apostacy-the moment the confession was made, the bolt was drawn, and the poor wretch lay a mangled corpse on the rocks below. This Castle was built as early as the year 1238, and it was at once the Boulevard and defence of the state. In 1733 it was converted into a state prison, and retained this character the conclusion of the century. It is now a dépôt of arms and munitions, and occasionally serves for a military guard-house.

02

WE left Vevay in a private conveyance for Berne, and having taken an early start, were fortunate enough to reach the summit of the steep and long hill, a few miles from Vevay, just as the sun had risen. From it, we had a most extensive view of the entire expanse of the Lake of Geneva, with the grand Alpine chain, of which Mont Blanc forms the centre, in the distance. The distinctness of the view in the bright morning light, added much to the indescribable beauty of the scene: and I do not remember a prospect in Switzerland, that combines so much picturesqueness and sublimity, as this from the summit of the Jorat. At Bulle, where we halted to dine, there was a large fair being held, and the streets were alive with people. The array of booths, and the display of all kinds of merchandize, with the thronging crowds in the long avenues between the stalls, presented quite a lively and stirring scene. The general appearance of the fair, was strikingly like some of those wonderful representations by the magic pencil of Teniers, that one sees in the Galleries-a country fair with singular groupings of peasantry in varied costumes, long rows of decorated booths, and scenes of joyousness everywhere. Late in the afternoon. we arrived at our halting place for the night, the town of

Freibourg, and found delightful quarters at the Zähringer Hof. The situation of this old town is curious indeed. It is built partly on the edge of the precipitous ravine of the Saone, and partly in the ravine itself, so that the people in the upper town look over the chimney-tops of their neighbors below. The view from the terrace in the rear of our Hotel, was wild and picturesque in the extreme. It looked down into the depths of the ravine, through which the yellow Saone lazily wandered-and along the banks of the stream were the dark narrow streets, and venerable looking Convents of the old town. High up on the rugged cliffs upon the opposite side, was perched, the ruin of one. of the old watch towers of the middle ages. Freibourg is one of the strong holds of the Jesuits, and abounds in Churches and Monasteries. It was a great source of regret that we had not an opportunity of hearing the famous organ, in the old Cathedral. The iron suspension bridge spanning the ravine, is a perfect miracle of architectural skill. Its length is nearly a thousand feet, and its elevation from the bottom of the ravine nearly two hundred. It is supported on four cables of iron wire, each containing more than one thousand wires, and is said to be capable of supporting three times the weight the bridge will ever be. likely to bear. The whole cost of the structure, was a little over one hundred thousand dollars.

At noon the next day, having taken an early start, we reached Berne. This old capital, of the largest of the Swiss Cantons, is a quaint looking town, with its long low arcades on both sides of its principal thoroughfares. The appearance of the long narrow streets, with their venerable looking houses shaded by the wide overhanging roofs, is curious and picturesque. The Bear, of whose name the