quaint stone animals that cover the water pipes; the broad steps leading to its magnificient western front were ascended at a very early hour by crowds of people, for to-day a confirmation was to be held by the Archbishop of Rheims, and many a little maiden, attired already in her white dress and veil, was on her way to early mass, attended generally by a mother or elder sister who shielded the young candidate with a large red umbrella from the drizzling rain, which fell for an hour or two on this Sunday morning. After attending the only English service in Rheims, held in a Wesleyan chapel, we walked into the Archiepiscopal Palace, following a garrulous old man, with a bunch of keys through the great hall, which he told us had been restored for the "sacré" of Charles X., the last of the French kings crowned at Rheims,-portraits of other monarchs, whose coronation was held in the Cathedral, hung round the walls. Poor Joan of Arc's picture, also, is here. A few good portraits of bishops and cardinals hung in the salle d'attente, and the chapel contained some rare and ancient tapestry; but all that we saw of the Palace looked dreary and deserted, and both our old guide and we were most interested in the robes of point-lace and silk, which were hanging in readiness for the Archbishop to wear at the confirmation he was about to hold. A little before one o'clock I went to the Cathedral, and, making my way through the good-humoured crowds that lined its aisles, gained a standing place which gave me a good view of he centre nave and chancel. I wish I could fairly describe the beauty of the scene on which I now looked; on one side upwards of a thousand children, three-fourths of them girls, in white dresses and veils, were assembled; on the other side the Archbishop, in gorgeous robes of crimson silk and point-lacebishops in purple, or red, other dignitaries of the Church in bright, rich vestments, surrounding him. Acolytes in scarlet gowns, covered with tunics of cambric and lace, swinging silver censers, while the organ peeled forth and unseen choristers chanted. Above all rose the grand columns and arches, the richly-coloured windows, and the high-vaulted roof of this magnificent cathedral of Rheims. The children, guided by kind-looking "sœurs de charité," ranged themselves in detachments so as to make two rows down the centre of the nave. The archbishops, accompanied by the "Vicaire" and two acolytes, carrying baskets covered with white silk and surrounded by wreaths of pink roses, walked between the children. The "Vicaire" received from each child a ticket; from this he read its name to the Archbishop, holding towards him, at the same time, a vessel containing oil. Into this the Archbishop dipped his thumb, and touched the forehead of the

child, repeated some words in Latin, commencing with the Christian name of the child, laid his left hand gently on its cheek and passed on to the next. Immediately after the Archbishop had anointed the forehead of the child, the Vicaire, taking from one of the baskets a little bit of cotton wool, carefully wiped off all the oil and threw the wool into the other basket. The ceremony of the confirmation lasted rather more than two hours and a half.

Later in the afternoon, on our way to the Church of St. Rémy, we passed an open butcher's shop, in front of which hung a carcase ticketed "Viande d' Ane," several joints of the same dark-coloured meat lay on the stalls within. I ventured to ask whether it was really good for food and found a ready sale. "Mais oui, Madame, ou en achète beaucoup, elle est tendre et delicieuse,' reply. The Church of St. Rémy has lately been restored with much magnificence; service was going on when we entered. Among the congregation were several of the children who had been confirmed in the morning. Behind the high altar is a tomb containing the bones of St. Rémy, a former Archbishop of Rheims, whose shrine was surrounded by devotees, some of whom appeared to me to allow their adoration of the saint in no degree to interfere with their more sublunary affairs. One old lady, who held by a string a very fat spaniel, smiled her approval when I patted the little beast; while the devotions of another woman and her husband were disturbed, and apparently with no reluctance, by the gambols of their child. However, they were doing what their Church had told them was right, and we could only hope that they derived some good from their obedience.

The next morning we started for Strasburg, passing along a rich, smiling country, soon, alas! to be laid waste by the conquer. ing march of those whom the vain glory of France invited to the war; Epernay, with its champagne vineyards showing the care with which every vine is trained, brought us to the Marne and to the Vosges Mountains, through which we were carried by many a tunnel, between them hop-gardens and vineyards, wide plains dotted with villages and backed by low wooded hills; passing Bar le Duc with its tempting buffet, Nancois le Petit, Toul (where from the station we obtained a good view of its cathedral and fine old Church of St. Gengoulph), Saverne, until, a little before dark, we reached Strasburg in time to visit the cathedral, to look at its lofty, tapering spire, to listen to the evening service within it in honour of the Virgin, and to admire the exquisite bunches of lily of the valley with which her shrine was overlaid. Strasburg, as it was before the war, requires no description-gay, bustling, and busy in its French possession, we must hope that now it has passed into German hands at so great a cost it may soon grow and thrive

as it did before.

Broglie with its

The cathedral happily still stands, but the Place four rows of brilliant pink chesnut-trees, the museum, and other public building have disappeared in the cruel work of war.

To Basle, our next destination, the line ran between the Vosges mountains on the right, and those of the Rhine on the left; fieldwork was going on busily, women in scarlet petticoats, large Swiss hats, or with the broad black ribbon and bows seen in Strasburg, were the principal workers. Passing Erstein, with its high steepled church; Lutterbach, where a sparrow had built her nest between the wall and a plank just over the telegraph bell, and was sitting when we passed; Mülhaus, with long avenues of poplars and a cathedral with a spire like that at Strasburg. Here the railway runs directly through the town, and judging from the numerous milk-cans we saw, as we passed, the low green fields in its neighbourhood must supply many a dairy. Reaching Bâle at six o'clock we took an evening's wander along its terraces, commanding fine views of the Rhine, into its red stone cathedral with curious old clcisters, across one of the bridges and through the busy town.

We left it the next morning, and running along the banks of the Rhine, saw at Lausenburg the first covered bridge. After this, the line, passing through a tunnel, left the river and carried us along a country of low wooded hills, villages with round towered churches, vineyards climbing up the hill sides, white roads dividing fields and orchards, in which worked peasants, making, with their red caps and skirts, bright spots in the picture. We stopped at Neuhausen to see the falls of the Rhine; the terrace from the Schweizer Hof gave us a beautiful view of the Bernese Alps in the distance, and the Rhine falls in front. Descending through the hedge-bordered walks from the terrace to the banks of the river, we engaged a boat and crossed a little below the falls on the other side. Huge rocks break the fall and scatter the water in bright foam around them. One of the these it is practicable to ascend, but we did not attempt it. Our rower who had introduced himself to us, as one who "English speak can," encouraged our determination not to do so by pronouncing it "dangerous not, but still one is getting in its mount a leetle wet." From the Fischetz, a wooden gallery projecting over the cataract, we obtained a grand and near view of it. Our faces were wetted by the spray as we looked at the falling rush of water, so strong and rapid that no fish can live within it. The sun shone and gave brilliant rainbow hues to the foaming spray, above which, as we looked, fluttered two little butterflies, fearless, and escaping even a drop upon their gauzy wings.

The afternoon train carried us on by Schaffhausen to Zurich, giving us, as we crossed the Rheinfallbrücke, glimpses of the falls;

then taking us near high wooded banks, between which the Rhine ran as placidly as though it had met with no obstruction in its course to Andelfingen, whence we had a magnificent panorama of the Alps, bright and rosy in the glow of the setting sun. This had deepened into blue twilight by the time that we looked across the lovely lake of Zurich from our window at the "Hotel Baur," where two days were pleasantly spent, leaving it on a misty afternoon to go in a steamer to Rapperschwyl. Gay, holiday-dressed people were on board the boat; and at Rüschlichen the sun, lifting up the curtain that had hung before them, gave us a bright and dreamy view of the Alpine mountains, shone upon deep red church steeples in the villages by which we passed, glanced across the vineyards, now little more than ranges of slender brown sticks, and reflected itself in the grey, glass-like waters of the lake.

In about three hours the town of Rupperschwyl, with its picturesque old castle and wooden bridge spanning the lake, came into view. We took a room with a balcony at the "Hotel du Lac," and then walked into the town, passing breweries and vitriol manufactories on our way to the castle height. The interior of the keep appeared to be used, like that of the castle at Thun, as a prison; what had been the courtyard was now laid out in pleasant walks, shaded with trees, and giving beautiful views of Zurich Lake. Coming down the castle hill we reached a church, dedicated to St. Basileus, where a very slender priest met us, and begged us to enter, that he might show us some ancient vessels and relics of the saint. We preferred, however, wandering through the churchyard; the graves were gardens of exquisite flowers, and at each headstone stood a glass with cut flowers in water, generally of fresh blue forget-me-nots.

The next day the rail carried us to Ragatz, by the Linth Canal and the beautiful Wallenstadt Lake. The precipitous rocks along its south side are pierced with nine long tunnels; from the open arches in these we got flying views of the blue lake, and its mountain side, down which the melting snow was sending many a graceful waterfall. We found the "Hof Ragatz," where we stopped while a carriage was provided to take us to Pfäffers, in a state of great commotion, a general cleaning for the reception of spring visitors was going on. Merry, bright-eyed maidens were on their knees by the side of their pails, and laughingly wiped the soapy floors to let us pass. Waiters somewhat "en déshabillé" were rubbing chairs and windows with an energy that made an interruption to procure us luncheon apparently far from welcome. We left them actively burnishing, and contented ourselves with some bread and gingerbread from a shop in the village.

Our drive to the "Pfäffer Bad" was along a gorge, between

sombre, precipitous limestone rocks, beneath which the Tamina river rushed impetuously. At times the road was so narrow that it seemed as if our carriage had scarcely room to pass. At these points, however, we found widening work was going on, the rocks had been blasted, and men with gay nods and smiles cleared away, as we approached, the stones and earth that had fallen across the road. The bathhouse, which stands in a hollow between rocks, that rise to the height of six hundred feet, looked like a cold, dull, monastery, far from attractive to invalids. The sun, even in the height of summer, does not shine upon it more than five hours during the day; and "Im winter," as the young guide who took us, by the wooden gallery between the overhanging wall of black and dripping rock, to the spring, said, "Im winter ist es gang nass und feucht." This gallery, six hundred and sixty feet long, runs by the side of the Tamina River, which, as if chafed by its intrusion on her course, rushes noisily and impetuously along, fed at intervals by cascades falling from crevices in the rocks, through which the daylight gleams, and gives a weird-like brightness to the gloomy

gorge.

From Ragatz we went on again by train to Chur; we crossed the Rhine at its confluence with the Tamina, by a long covered wooden bridge, the apertures in it were hung with green Venetian blinds. The country beyond showed many ruined castles, waterfalls, and lightly covered snow-peaks. As we approached the old and busy town of Mayenfeld, we ran along the fertile valleys of the Grissons, to change them again, after crossing a bridge over the Landquart, for a long trait of grey sand, with but little vegetation, that lay beneath the barren heights of the Grauhömer, and the snow-peaks of the Calanda Mountains. Passing the ruins of Lichtenstein Castle we soon reached Chur; the River Plessur ran swiftly beneath the windows of our hotel, on its way to the Rhine, mingling its noise with heavy showers of rain, that fell during the greater part of the night.

"Is all Chur in mourning?" was the first question we asked, as we saw the next day-Whit-Sunday-peasant after peasant attired in black. "No!" was the reply; "but on feast days black is always worn here." Very sombre looked the congregation within the old cathedral of St. Lucius; very sombre were the groups we afterwards met upon the Rosen-hügel, contrasting with the bright uniforms of some soldiers, who were singing, in the café at its foot, part songs in excellent time and tune; contrasting, too, with the gay wild flowers which blossomed in profusion, and of which most of those we met carried a large and fragrant nosegay. The views from the Rosenhügel of the town, the valley of the Rhine, and the mountains beyond, made it well worth the trouble of ascending.