stone, hung out their boughs at a great height on the mountain.

I remarked that the bed of the Germanasca was here particularly rough, and that the whole space betwixt its banks and the spring of the Balsile was thickly sown with stones and boulders, contrasting with the rest of the valley, where a fine sward extends up to the mountain's foot. "These," said M. Tron, "are the rocks which our fathers hurled down upon their enemies, when they attempted to scale the mountain." Then passing along before the Balsile, we turned into a cleft which divides it from the adjoining mountain.

This," said he, "is the spot where the assault was made that turned out so disastrously for the besiegers. On that knoll," said he, pointing to a shoulder of the mountain that shot out at nearly the same level as the Balsile, and seemed to frown at it across the ravine, "on that knoll were the cannon planted; and when their earthen ramparts lay in ruins around them, it was along by these precipices that they made their escape."

We now descended, and returned along the valley on the other side of the Germanasca to the house of M. Tron. On the way, he mentioned, as

FERTILITY OF THE VALLEY.

347

a proof of the great fertility of the valley, that, whereas on the plain of Piedmont a measure of wheat yields a return of five measures, in the Valley of the Balsile one measure yields ten measures in return. I suspect the difference lies not so much in the fruit-bearing powers of the two soils as in the superior industry and culture of the Vaudois. M. Tron hospitably invited us to refresh ourselves with some of the fruit of the vine of the Val di Balsiglia. While so occupied, he mentioned that a neighbour of his had MS. notes of La Rentrée Glorieuse, taken on the journey. M. Turin promised to examine it, and obligingly to forward it to me in Scotland, should he be of opinion that its information was important, or such as had not been published hitherto. It never came: from which I infer that it was either a portion of the journal of Henri Arnaud, or, more probably, a copy taken from it.

Other relics of a more palpable kind yet linger in the valley. On the following evening, as I sat conversing with M. Lantaret, in his manse at Pomaret, regarding the "Return," he suddenly rose, and, running into an adjoining apartment, returned in a few minutes with a cannon ball in

his hand.

"Here," said he, "is one of the balls that were fired at our fathers. It was found at the Balsile ten years ago. It is a twelve-pounder. In former years such things were very common, but of late they have been found somewhat less plenteously."

My visit to the Balsile was now ended, and I started for Pomaret, my last stage for the day. M. Tron and M. Turin kindly, accompanied me back to the mouth of the Val Balsiglia. Here the cliffy front of a tall Alp stood parting the path. On the left, some thousand feet below me, was a gorge formed by two overhanging mountains. The footpath wound down the slope, and, running on into the opening of the gorge, which looked no bigger than a pigeon-hole, became lost in darkness. "Your road," said M. Turin, "lies through that chasm; you cannot miss your way, unless you take wings and rise above these mountains. A smart walk of three hours will bring you to Pomaret." So saying, he bade me adieu.

Grand Ravine-Compared with the Syk in Idumea-Rich Cultivation of the Pass-Rejoin San Martino-Le Perier-Town of Pomaret-Sabbath Morning-Public Worship-A Baptism-Interior of Churches-Dress of the People-The Vaudois FaceMoulded under Persecution-Sabbath Revels in the Popish Town of Perosa-Sabbath Eve in Pomaret.

I DESCENDED the path, casting now and then suspicious glances at the gorge towards which my steps led. It looked black as cavern or prisondoor, and promised to conduct me, far from the dwellings of men and the face of day, down into the very bowels of the earth. But the dancing torrent was entering it joyously, and why should not I? I went in along with the rolling Germanasca, whose white waves, as they flung themselves fearlessly forward, filled the pass with melodious echoes. In a moment all my fears were dissipated. The darkness and terror were only without, within

I met nought but beauty and sublimity. I found, in short, that I was traversing the grandest pass I had ever seen. I had often in imagination threaded the famous Syk, which leads into the ruined city of Petra, in the land of Edom; but this excelled it in every respect. It was nearly twice as long as that celebrated chasm; it was quite as narrow in many places; it was edged by cliffs five times taller; and instead of the naked precipices and the black gloom, which are all that one encounters in the Idumean Syk, I found here the brightest verdure, the goodliest trees, noble vines enwreathing the rock, or mantling white châlet that gleamed out from its nest amid the cliffs, and long golden beams which the sun shot slantwise down through the rents in the towering line of cliff and peak that ran along far above me in the sky.

Though the ravine is narrow as tunnel almost, the skilful and industrious hand of Vaudois has covered it with the richest cultivation. That people have created a sumptuous garden, filled with all manner of delights, where in another occupancy there would have been only a naked and barren defile. There the apple and cherry tree rain their stores; there grows the vine on the terraces