{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_64163/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_64163","id":"gutenberg_64163","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64163","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- Switzerland","Legends -- Switzerland"],"text":"LEGENDS\n  OF\n  SWITZERLAND\n\n\n\n\nBy the Same Author\n\n\n  LEGENDS OF THE VIRGIN AND CHRIST\n  LEGENDS OF THE RHINE\n  LEGENDS OF THE MIDDLE AGES\n  STORIES OF THE WAGNER OPERAS\n  STORIES OF FAMOUS OPERAS\n  MYTHS OF GREECE AND ROME\n  MYTHS OF NORTHERN LANDS\n\n$1.50 per volume\n\n\n[Illustration: COATS OF ARMS OF THE SWISS CANTONS.]\n\n\n\n\n  LEGENDS\n  OF\n  SWITZERLAND\n\n\n  BY\n  H. A. GUERBER\n\n\n  _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_\n\n\n  NEW YORK\n  DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY\n  1899\n\n\n\n\n  _Copyright, 1899_,\n  BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY.\n\n  _All rights reserved._\n\n\n  University Press:\n  JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\n  DEDICATED\n  TO\n  SWITZERLAND\n\n  IN GRATEFUL MEMORY OF HAPPY SUMMERS SPENT\n  WITHIN ITS BORDERS\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nAside from the picturesque, historical, and geological interest\nconnected with a journey in Switzerland, that country also boasts of\na rich fund of legends, delightfully characteristic of the people at\nwhose firesides they have been told for centuries.\n\nThe grand scenery, terrific storms, sudden earthquakes, landslides\nand avalanches, together with the barbaric invasions and fierce wars\nwhich have swept over it for thousands of years, have all left their\nindelible stamp, not only upon the face of nature, but also in the\nimagination and folklore of the people.\n\nIn varying keys, and touching upon many chords and themes, these\nlegends refer to saints and to sinners, to heathen gods, giants,\nghosts, dwarfs, Devil, and fairies, as well as to kings and queens,\nknights and ladies, monks and nuns, besides dwelling particularly upon\nshepherds, pastures, cattle, and game.\n\nThe rustic crudity of some of these tales, the medi\u00e6val halo of romance\naround others, added to the poetic subtle charms of a few, have been\nrendered as faithfully as possible, to enable the reader to gain a\nnearer insight into the life and thoughts of the sturdy race which has\nestablished the most lasting republic in modern Europe.\n\nLife-long familiarity with the official languages, some knowledge of\nthe peculiar dialects, together with prolonged sojourns in the country,\nand diligent study of its principal works on national folklore, have\nenabled the writer to collect these legends, some of which are now laid\nbefore the English-speaking public for the first time.\n\nTrusting they may enhance the pleasure of a trip to Switzerland for all\nthose who have the good fortune to enjoy one, remind former travellers\nof matchless scenes, and amuse and interest even stay-at-homes, this\nbook is sent out into the world with the sincere hope that it may meet\nwith a kindly welcome.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                    PAGE\n  LEGENDS OF GENEVA                                                    1\n\n  LEGENDS OF VAUD AND VALAIS                                           6\n\n  FRIBOURG                                                            69\n\n  LEGENDS OF NEUCH\u00c2TEL                                                79\n\n  BERN                                                                97\n\n  LEGENDS OF SOLEURE                                                 140\n\n  BASEL                                                              147\n\n  AARGAU                                                             158\n\n  THE FOREST CANTONS                                                 176\n\n  TESSIN                                                             238\n\n  SCHAFFHAUSEN                                                       242\n\n  LEGENDS OF Z\u00dcRICH                                                  248\n\n  LEGENDS OF ZUG                                                     261\n\n  THURGAU                                                            270\n\n  ST. GALL AND APPENZELL                                             274\n\n  GLARUS AND GRISONS                                                 281\n\n\n  INDEX                                                              303\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n  COATS-OF-ARMS OF THE SWISS CANTONS, WITH CANTONAL\n    BEADLES IN TRADITIONAL COSTUME (in color)             _Frontispiece_\n\n                                                               FACE PAGE\n  LAKE OF GENEVA, WITH DENT DU MIDI                                    2\n\n  THE MIGRATION OF THE HERDS                                           8\n\n  ALPINE FAY                                                          38\n\n  THE MIST NYMPH                                                      44\n\n  THE WILD HUNT                                                      100\n\n  THE OLD ST. CHRISTOPHER TOWER                                      106\n\n  THE GIESSBACH                                                      122\n\n  GRINDELWALD                                                        132\n\n  THE JUNGFRAU                                                       136\n\n  THE SPALENTHOR, BASEL                                              148\n\n  THE OATH ON THE R\u00dcTLI                                              184\n\n  TELL ANSWERS GESSLER                                               188\n\n  LUCERNE, WITH MT. PILATUS                                          196\n\n  THE RIGI                                                           214\n\n  THE DEVIL\u2019S BRIDGE                                                 236\n\n  THE FALLS OF THE RHINE                                             242\n\n  CHARLEMAGNE AND THE SERPENT                                        250\n\n\n\n\nLegends of Switzerland\n\n\n        \u2766\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF GENEVA\n\n\nThe crescent-shaped Leman, or Lake of Geneva, the largest and bluest\nof all the Swiss lakes, has been sung by all the poets and praised by\nevery writer who has had the good fortune to behold it in its native\nsplendour.\n\nThe fertile slopes on the northern bank, the charming resorts and\ndrives to the east and south, and the glorious view of Mont Blanc, in\nSavoy, as seen from Geneva itself, bewitch all those who are privileged\nto enjoy them. Countless steamboats and sailboats are constantly plying\nto and fro over the lake, and stopping at picturesque points along\nthe shore, whence delightful excursions can be made either among rich\npastures, orchards, and vineyards, or up into the mountains from which,\nrippling and roaring, torrents and streams pour down to fill the basin\nof this beautiful lake. The most picturesque craft on the Lake of\nGeneva are the lateen-sailed market-boats, hovering like birds over\nwaters whose colour reminds one of the Mediterranean, the only other\nbody of water in Europe where such vessels are frequently seen.\n\nA legend claims that in olden times a fairy boat of this peculiar\nshape was often seen flitting from point to point along the shores of\nLake Leman. Its sails catching every gleam of golden light, it shone\nlike the face of the new moon in a summer sky. Drawn by eight large\nsnow-white swans, it glided gently over the waters, to the song both\nweird and sweet of these graceful birds, accompanied by the thrilling\nchords of a harp touched by the invisible fingers of the Spirit of the\nWinds.\n\nStanding by the mast of this ship, was a tall woman of dazzling beauty,\nwhose golden locks streamed out in the breeze, while the sunset flush\non the snow-mountains seemed no more delicate than the bloom on her\ndainty cheeks. Clad in flowing robes of purest white, she stood there,\nsmiling gently at countless winged and chubby sprites, hovering around\nher like butterflies about a rose, and scattering handfuls of flowers\nand fruit at her feet.\n\n[Illustration: LAKE OF GENEVA, WITH DENT DU MIDI.]\n\nIt is said that wherever the fairy ship touched the shore, the soil\nbore flowers and fruit in abundance, and any one who was so\nfortunate as to catch a glimpse of the lucky vessel was sure of the\nfulfilment of any desire, expressed or unexpressed. Even when buried so\ndeep in the hidden recesses of the heart that the owner was scarcely\nconscious of its existence, the fairy\u2019s melting blue eyes were sure to\ndiscover this wish, and her heart was so tender that, once discovered,\nshe could not but grant it.\n\nThe fairy skiff of Lake Geneva haunted its shores for many years, and\nmight still be seen there, had not the giant swans been frightened away\nby the puffing and snorting steamboats which furrow the blue waves.\nNone but the oldest inhabitants ever mention this ship, of which they\ncaught fleeting glimpses in their early youth, when they sat by the\nlakeside during the long moonlight nights, in hopes of securing the\nrealization of their dearest hopes.\n\nBut the luck-ship figures not only in the tales told by the peasants\naround the fireside during the long winter evenings; it is also often\nseen in effigy upon Genevan holiday and birthday cards. Then \u201cGood\nLuck,\u201d or \u201cHappy New Year,\u201d is inscribed across the wing-like lateen\nsails, and such a card is supposed to bring the happy recipient as much\ngood fortune as an actual glimpse of the swan-drawn vessel of mythic\nfame.\n\nAn interesting old legend is connected with the church of Ste. Marie\nMadeleine in Geneva, and with a local yearly festival celebrated there\non the twenty-second of July.\n\nIn the days when the Madeleine church was founded, Geneva, after having\nbeen the main stronghold of the Allobroges before Christ, and a Roman\ncamp from the days of C\u00e6sar until the fifth century, was the capital\nof a Burgundian kingdom. The Christians in that part of the country,\ndesirous of building a church where they could worship God, selected a\nsite just outside of the city fortifications, and then began to solicit\ncontributions on all sides.\n\nIn those days there dwelt in Geneva a very good and pious girl, noted\nfar and wide for her deftness in spinning, and for the unusual beauty\nand fineness of her thread. As soon as this virtuous maiden heard that\nfunds were needed for a church to be dedicated to her patron saint, she\nmade a solemn vow to consecrate to that good purpose all the thread she\ncould spin, and immediately set to work.\n\nFrom early morn until far into the night, Madeleine now spun on\nunweariedly, selling skein after skein of thread to purchase stones\nand mortar for the new building. As is always the case, the zeal and\ngifts of many of the Christians soon ebbed, but Madeleine twirled her\ndistaff faster and faster, working without respite day after day, to\nmake up for all deficiencies.\n\nThe workmen, who contributed their labour, soon depended upon her alone\nfor materials, and fearing lest her strength or courage should fail\nbefore the church was finished, they called out to her every time they\npassed her house to keep up a good heart and work on. This cry,--\n\n     \u201cTiens bon, Marie Madeleine,\n      Tiens bon, Marie Madelon!\u201d\n\nwas taken up by all the Christians in town, and now forms the refrain\nof a song sung at Geneva\u2019s yearly festival.\n\nThus encouraged, Marie Madeleine went on spinning until the\nbuilding was completed, and as most of the stones were purchased\nwith the proceeds of her industry, the workmen carved spindles and\nspinning-wheels all over the church. On the festival of Ste. Marie\nMadeleine, illuminations and processions are the order of the day in\nGeneva, and the statue of a spinner is carried along all the principal\nstreets of the town, to the rhythmic chant of the old distich, which\ncommemorates alike the maiden\u2019s piety and her extreme diligence.\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF VAUD AND VALAIS\n\n\nLate in the spring, when the grazing down in the valley is pretty\nwell exhausted, farmers in Switzerland are wont to drive their cows\nup to the mountain pastures, which by this time are all covered with\nluxuriant grass and gemmed with dainty wild-flowers. The day set for\nthe departure of the cattle is always a gala day. The people, dressed\nin their Sunday best, assemble in the villages through which the herds\nmust pass, to exchange merry jests with the herdsmen, bid them God\nspeed, and admire the fat sleek cows, wearing around their necks bells\nof different sizes and varying tones.\n\nThe head herdsman proudly walks in front of his cattle, wearing a\nbunch of gay ribbons or of fresh flowers in his hat or cap. His blue\ncloth coat, with its short sleeves, sets off a dazzlingly white shirt\nof coarse linen, and his costume is completed by knee-breeches, thick\nwoolen stockings, and shoes whose soles are elaborately studded with\nbright nails. This man carries a bag full of salt, and an umbrella\nslung across his back; and from time to time, as he strides joyfully\nahead of the herd, he offers a handful of salt to the foremost cows.\nLeaning on his stout staff, he sturdily climbs the mountain, giving\nvent to those long-drawn musical cries known as \u201chuch\u00e9es\u201d or \u201cjodels,\u201d\naccording to the section of the country in which they are heard.\n\nClose behind the herdsman comes the bull, with a ring in his nose,\nor a fine cow, the queen and leader of the cattle. Conscious of the\nhonour of wearing the largest and deepest-toned bell, this animal steps\nproudly along, tossing a shapely head decked with bunches of bright\nflowers on either horn, and between them rests the milking-stool, a\nsign of particular distinction.\n\nCow after cow slowly files past, greeted by calls and loving pats from\nproud owners, and amid the tinkling of bells, the trample of hoofs, the\nlowing of kine, and the cheers of the people sound the resonant cracks\nof the herdsmen\u2019s whips, which they snap incessantly to show their\nproficiency in that greatly admired branch of their calling.\n\nThe sight of such a herd going up the mountain invariably reminds the\nold people of happy summers long gone by, and while sitting on the\nbenches in front of their stone or wooden houses at twilight, they\nentertain the younger generation with reminiscences of the joyful past,\nand a regretful sigh always heaves their aged breasts when they finally\nmention the Golden Age of Switzerland.\n\nAccording to tradition, this was the time when none of the\nmountains--not even the highest--were ever veiled in cold mists, or\ncovered with ice and snow. Neither were there any barren and rocky\nheights such as we see now. Luxuriant grass grew all the way up the\nsteepest slopes, carpeting even the topmost ridges, and the climate\nwas so genial that cattle dotted the hillside pastures during nine or\nten months of the year. The cows were then far larger and fatter than\nany we see now, and their milk was so abundant that they were milked\nthrice a day into huge ponds, or tanks, where the herdsmen went about\nin skiffs to do the skimming.\n\nOne of these men is said to have once lost his balance and fallen\nhead first into a lacteal lake, but although his mourning companions\ndiligently sought for his corpse, and even dredged that huge natural\nmilkpan, they could find no trace of him. When churning-day came round,\nhowever, and the big vats of thick cream were poured into a churn\nas large and tall as a castle tower, the dead man was suddenly\ndiscovered imbedded like a fly in the thick cream. The dairymen and\nmilkmaids then mournfully laid his corpse to rest in a huge cave, lined\nwith honeycombs so tall and massive that none was smaller than the city\ngates.\n\n[Illustration: THE MIGRATION OF THE HERDS.]\n\nSuch was the prosperity of all the farmers in the Cantons of Vaud and\nValais, that their men used goat cheeses (_tommes_) instead of quoits\nfor their daily games, and on Sundays played bowls with huge balls\nof the sweetest, hardest, yellowest butter that has ever been made.\nThe fruit trees were as productive as the pastures; the grapes, for\ninstance, being so large and juicy that faucets had to be inserted in\neach grape to draw off the juice, while the pears were so fine and\nheavy that their stems had to be severed by means of a double hand-saw\nwhen came time to pick them.\n\nThe Golden Age of the Alps did not last long, however, for the\nunparalleled prosperity the people enjoyed filled their hearts with\nsuch inordinate pride that they became very insolent, and thereby\ncalled down the wrath of heaven upon their guilty heads. The brutality\nand avarice which they displayed was punished by earthquakes, storms,\nand landslides, which ruined their finest pastures, and by sudden\nand unwelcome changes in the temperature. Dense fogs swept over the\nmountains, and there were long and heavy snow-falls which swathed the\nmountains in a permanent casing of ice and snow. The summer season\nbecame far briefer than in the past, and fields and pastures much less\nproductive. Cattle and fruit therefore soon dwindled down to their\npresent comparatively small proportions, and unlimited plenty no longer\nreigned in the land.\n\nIn the Golden Age the country boasted of a few very large but quite\nbenevolent giants. They roamed about at will, striding over mountains\nand forests, which seemed to them no larger than mole hills and tiny\nshrubs. The best known of these giants was Gargantua, renowned alike\nfor his athletic proportions and for his childlike spirit. He was so\nhuge that when he sat down to rest upon Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa, or some\nother large mountain, his legs hung down on either side until his feet\nrested comfortably in the valleys. Sometimes, when indulging in a brief\nnoonday nap, he used one of these peaks as pillow for his huge and\nsleepy head. His thick white beard and hair, falling around him on all\nsides, then gave these heights somewhat the same aspect they have now,\nwith their fields of snow and rivers of ice. The sunken orbits of the\ngiant\u2019s eyes and his wide-open mouth looked like valleys and crevasses,\nwhile his nostrils could be mistaken for deep and dark caves, and his\nruddy cheeks for great patches of red rock peeping out among the snows.\n\nWhen the weather was warm, Gargantua\u2019s breath seemed like the mist\nhovering on the mountain tops; but when the temperature fell, it\nrapidly congealed, spreading like a dense fog all over the country.\nHis gentlest snores are said to have sounded like the distant rumble\nof thunder, or the crash of avalanches; and when he stretched himself\nafter a siesta, the whole country was shaken as by a violent earthquake.\n\nOnce, while the giant lay asleep, his head resting against a mountain,\na large flock of sheep scrambled up over his prostrate form, and began\nto thread their way through his tangled hair and beard in quest of\npasture. Awakened by a slight tickling sensation, the giant half opened\nhis sleepy eyes. The sight of a host of little white creatures crawling\naround in his beard so angered him, that he took them up one by one\nbetween his thumb and index, and crushed and threw them away, thinking\nthey were vermin.\n\nDuring another nap a large herd of cows strayed into the giant\u2019s\nwide-open mouth, which they mistook for a cave. Their presence there,\nhowever, occasioned a prodigious coughing-fit, in the course of which\nthe cows were ejected with such force that they flew through miles of\nspace and landed in another country!\n\nAs simple and innocent as he was large, Gargantua delighted in playing\nin the dirt. To amuse himself, he hollowed out the Rh\u00f4ne valley, and\nscooped out a basin for the Lake of Geneva. There the marks of his\nfingers can still be seen, for having no other tools he freely used\nthose nature provides, flinging handfuls of earth and stones on either\nside of him, or into a rude basket made of wattled pine-trees which he\ncarried on his back.\n\nAt one time Gargantua elected to build a fine sand-heap, and carried\nload after load of dirt and stones to a point southeast of the present\ncity of Geneva. There he dumped them one after another, and as the heap\nincreased in size after each basketful, he gleefully cried: \u201c\u00c7a l\u00e8ve,\n\u00e7a l\u00e8ve!\u201d (It is rising, it is rising!) This cry was overheard by the\npeople in the neighbourhood, who ever after used it as a name for that\nmountain, changing the orthography to Sal\u00e8ve.\n\nGargantua sometimes threw huge rocks around him in sport, or in\npetulant fits of anger, punched holes in and through the mountains,\nand dug out fistfuls of earth here and there to fashion his mud pies.\nHe also liked to make gullies for the streams which trickled down the\nmountains. Once, while scratching out the Illiez valley he forgot the\nburden on his back and stooped to drink from the Rh\u00f4ne, which seemed\nto him like a mere rill. By some mischance, however, he stubbed his\nbig toe against the rocks of St. Triphon, and fell sprawling along\nthe valley, spilling part of the dirt out of his basket. The simple\nfellow, amazed at this accident, picked himself up gravely and uttered\nthe local substitute for \u201cMy goodness!\u201d (Eh Monteh!). This exclamation\nwas thereafter used by the natives to designate a mound of earth now\ncovered with oak forests and known as Monthey.\n\nIn his wrath at having tripped and broken the straps fastening his\nbasket to his back, Gargantua gave his burden an ill-tempered kick,\nwhich sent it flying some distance further on, where it dumped the rest\nof its contents. This heap of dirt formed the picturesque eminence on\nwhose wooded heights the ruined tower of Duin now stands.\n\nA similar accident occurring when the giant once tried to quench\nhis thirst in the Sarine, is the alleged origin of the hill upon\nwhich rises the church of Ch\u00e2teau d\u2019Oex. On another occasion, resting\none foot upon the top of the Berra and the other upon the Gibloux,\nGargantua bent down and took a draught from the Sarine, which drained\nit so dry that not a drop of water flowed along its bed for three\nwhole days. During that time one legend claims that the giant laid the\nfoundation for the bridge at Pont-la-Ville, near Fribourg, but another\nascribes that construction to his Satanic Majesty in person.\n\nGargantua\u2019s feet were so large that one of his sandals could serve as\nbridge over the Rh\u00f4ne or Sarine, and his hands so strong that he tore\ngreat gaps in the Jura mountains to enable those two streams to make\ntheir way to the sea.\n\nA mountain giant who roamed about in the mist, but never came down into\nthe valleys, was known as Path\u00f4. He delighted in terrifying the people\nin the lowlands by sudden wild cries, or by playfully rolling stones\ndown upon them, their cattle, houses, or pastures.\n\nMany of the Swiss giants were supposed to dwell in caves, or castles,\non the tallest mountains, hidden from the eyes of men by ever-shifting\nclouds. To commemorate this superstition, Schiller wrote a charming\nballad, telling how the daughter of one of these giants once strayed\ndown into the valley, where, for the first time in her life, she beheld\na farmer ploughing his field. In her delight and wonder, she bundled\nman, horses, and plough into her apron, and quickly carried them home,\nwhere she proudly exhibited her new playthings to her father. The\ngiant, who wished the puny human race no ill, immediately bade his\nlittle daughter carry the frightened peasant and kicking team back to\nthe place where she had found them, gravely warning her never to meddle\nagain with the people in the valley, whose diligent toil supplied\ngiants as well as mortals with their daily bread.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE monks who lived in the old abbey at Romainmotier, in the northern\npart of the canton of Vaud, once built a bridge over the rushing\nwaters of the Orbe, to enable the throngs of pilgrims to reach a\nwonder-working image of the Virgin near Vallorbes. But as these monks\nwere very eager to enrich their monastery, they also placed a toll-gate\nacross the bridge, and would allow none to pass without paying a\ncertain sum.\n\nOne night, the bridge-keeper was startled out of his peaceful slumbers\nby the rhythmic sound of rapid hoof-beats on the hard road, and he\nsprang to his window just in time to find himself face to face with a\npanting, foam-flecked steed, upon which sat a girl clad in garments\napparently no whiter than her anguished face. In breathless tones the\nmaiden bade the keeper open wide the gate and let her pass, for her\nbeloved mother was dangerously ill, and she wanted to plead for her\nrecovery at the foot of the miraculous image.\n\nThe gate-keeper listened unmoved to this passionate entreaty, and\ninstead of opening the gate, held it shut tight while sternly demanding\nhis toll. In vain the girl repeated she had forgotten to bring any\nmoney, and implored him to let her pass, promising to bring him the\nrequired amount on the morrow; he would not listen to anything she said.\n\nSeeing it was useless to parley any longer with such an unfeeling\nman, yet determined to save her mother at any price, the brave girl\nurged her steed to the very edge of the bridge, and suddenly leaped\nover the low parapet into the rushing tide. For a few moments the\nhorrified gate-keeper saw horse and rider struggling bravely to reach\nthe opposite shore, but all at once their strength gave way, and they\nwere swept into a whirlpool in the middle of the stream. A moment later\nhe saw them dashed against sharp rocks, and vanish beneath the foaming\nwaters which were soon tinged red with blood.\n\nThe gate-keeper stole back to his couch, trembling in every limb, but\ntold no one of the girl\u2019s visit or of her frightful death. At midnight\non the anniversary of the tragedy, the conscience-stricken man was\nhowever again roused by a loud clatter of hoofs. Torn from his bed by\ninvisible hands, he found himself on the bridge, face to face with\nthe same unhappy maid, whose snowy garments were now all stained with\nblood. Still impelled by a force he could not resist, the gate-keeper\nsuddenly dropped down on his hands and knees before her, and felt her\nspring lightly upon his back. A second later he was galloping wildly\ntoward the shrine of the miraculous Virgin.\n\nThere the maiden dismounted and fervently prayed for her sick mother;\nthen rising hastily from her knees, she again sprang upon her human\nsteed, whom she urged on over the stony road by lashing him with a long\nwet reed. At the bridge, the spectre maiden vanished over the parapet,\nand the terrified gate-keeper straightened up once more, only in time\nto hear the gurgling cry of a drowning person rising above the roaring\nand splashing of the swollen stream.\n\nThis spectral apparition visited this man every year, and so shattered\nhis nerves that he fell ill and died of fright. But before he breathed\nhis last, he humbly confessed to one of the monks his cruel treatment\nof the girl, her pitiful end, and his awful punishment.\n\nIn memory of this event, an image of a man on all fours, and ridden\nby a beautiful maiden, was placed in the convent church, where it was\nlong exhibited to pilgrims and tourists, to whom the above story is\ninvariably told.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSOUTH of Romainmotier, on the road from Vallorbes to Lausanne, stands\nthe small and very ancient town of La Sarraz, with its quaint castle.\nWe are told that a statue was excavated there lately, which once\nstood in the chapel, and represented a knight, on whose cheeks and\nshoulder-blades clung loathsome toads. The recovery of that peculiar\nstatue recalled the olden tale of a young knight of La Sarraz, who,\nhaving won great distinction in warfare, aspired to the hand of a\nCount\u2019s daughter.\n\nAlthough the maiden was far above him in station, her father consented\nto their union, provided the bridegroom gave her a castle and three\nhundred cows as wedding gift, or _morgengabe_. This condition filled\nthe knight\u2019s heart with hopeless sorrow, for he could boast no property\nexcept his trusty sword, his stout suit of mail, and his fiery\nbattle-horse.\n\nHis parents, perceiving his dejection, questioned him tenderly, and\nwhen they learned the cause of his sorrow, they joyfully exclaimed that\nhe need not despair, for they would give him castle and cattle, which\nwas all they had in the world. They confidently added that they knew\ntheir son would never let them want in their old age, even if they did\nbestow everything upon him, reserving naught for themselves.\n\nThe selfish son gladly accepted this proffered sacrifice, but when\nthe marriage ceremony had been completed, and he and his wife were\ncomfortably settled in their new home, he begrudged his old parents the\nlittle they required, and instigated by his wife, turned them out of\nthe house one cold and stormy night.\n\nAfter closing the door upon them, to shut off the sound of their\npitiful sobs and heartbreaking reproaches, the knight of La Sarraz\nstrode back into the hall of his castle, where a huge beaker of strong\nbeer and a fine game-pie were awaiting him near a good fire. Settling\nhimself down comfortably in a big armchair, the knight removed the\ncrusty cover of the pie. But no sooner had he done so than he started\nback in horror, for two live toads sprang straight out of it to his\ncheeks, where they buried their claws so deep that no one could remove\nthem. Every effort was made to kill these animals or drive them\naway, but all in vain. The knight, in despair, finally sent for the\nneighbouring priest, thinking that his prayers might accomplish what\nforce and skill had failed to effect.\n\nNo sooner did the priest behold the live toads imbedded in the knight\u2019s\ncheeks, however, than he exclaimed this must be a visitation from\nheaven, and bade him confess what grievous sin he had committed. But\nwhen the knight acknowledged that he had unmercifully driven his\naged parents out of the house they had given him, the priest made a\nfrightened sign of the cross, and bade him apply to the bishop, as he\ncould not give absolution for so heinous a sin.\n\nThe bishop, equally shocked and horrified at the knight\u2019s confession,\nreferred him to the Pope, who, seeing the man\u2019s plight, bade him return\nto his native land, find his aged parents, atone for his past cruelty\nby treating them kindly as long as they lived, and assured him that\nwhen he had obtained their forgiveness, the toads would certainly\ndepart from his face.\n\nThe knight of La Sarraz therefore journeyed home again, and after a\nlong and conscientious search discovered the dead bodies of his old\nfather and mother lying side by side in an abandoned hermitage. At the\npitiful sight of their wasted corpses, he fell on his knees, while\ntears of bitter repentance flowed in torrents down his cheeks. These\ntears effected what no other agent had been able to accomplish, for\nthe toads suddenly loosened their hold, and sprang from the knight\u2019s\ncheeks, down to his shoulders, where they again burrowed and clung fast.\n\nAs long as the knight of La Sarraz lived, he bore these awful living\nreminders of his sin, but as he kept them carefully hidden from sight,\nno one suspected the tortures he endured for more than twenty years. It\nis this sin and its awful punishment which was commemorated by the odd\nstatue in the chapel of La Sarraz.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN the tenth century, when all the western part of Switzerland formed\npart of the kingdom of Burgundy, good Queen Bertha rode through the\nland, visiting every castle, farm, and hamlet, and taking a kindly\ninterest in the affairs of rich and poor.\n\nWherever she went, she encouraged high and low to be good and virtuous,\nsetting them a shining example of industry by spinning diligently from\nmorning until night. Such was her skill in handling the distaff, that\nshe twirled it even while riding her snow-white palfrey from place to\nplace. Those days were so peaceful and happy, that the time \u201cwhen Queen\nBertha span,\u201d is still regarded in Switzerland as a synonym for the\nGolden Age. Of course, the memory of so virtuous a ruler has been kept\ngreen in the minds of the people, who have also carefully preserved her\nsaddle with its hole for her distaff. This relic can still be seen in\nPayerne, where the virtuous Queen lies buried beside her husband and\nson.\n\nStatues, pictures, and poems perpetuate Queen Bertha\u2019s fame, and people\nstill relate anecdotes about her. One of these affirms that the queen,\nseeing a shepherd girl spin while tending her flock, was so delighted\nwith her industry that she bestowed upon her a rich reward. The court\nladies, wishing to secure similar benefits, presented themselves on the\nmorrow, distaff in hand, before their royal mistress. Observing them\nfor a moment in silence, the queen then archly remarked: \u201cAh, ladies!\nthe peasant girl, like Jacob, received the blessing because she came\nfirst, but you, like Esau, have come too late!\u201d\n\nQueen Bertha was so good and charitable, that she was particularly\nloved by the poor, who claim that her spirit still haunts that region.\nEvery year, towards Christmas time, she is said to wander through the\nvillages after nightfall, peering in at every window to ascertain\nwhether the women and girls have spun all their flax. Those who have\nbeen careful and diligent, and can show empty distaffs and skeins of\nfine, smooth thread, are rewarded by magic gifts. These consist of\nskeins which never end, or handfuls of leaves, twigs, shavings, or\ncoal, which, if carefully put away, turn into gold before morning. But\nthe maidens who have been careless or lazy are sure to be punished by\nsleepless nights, troubled dreams, tangled skeins, and numerous other\npetty mishaps.\n\nWe are told that Queen Bertha built the castle of Vufflens for a\nfaithful servant who had become insane. As it was not safe to let him\ngo abroad, the good Queen carefully selected this lovely spot so that\nthe poor man could constantly feast his eyes upon the magnificent view\nof the lake, with Mont Blanc in the distance.\n\nIt is said that a thunderbolt put a sudden and merciful end to this\nmadman\u2019s life. Then, as Queen Bertha was about to leave the country to\njoin her married daughter in Lombardy, she bestowed the castle upon\nGrimoald, a brother of the deceased, believing him to be good and\nhonourable too, although he was really a base-hearted wretch whom every\none feared.\n\nGrimoald had not deemed it necessary to marry until then, but, wishing\nto have an heir for his new castle, he soon brought home a reluctant\nbride, forced by a stern father to accept his hand. He treated his\nwife, Ermance, moderately well until the birth of her first child. But\nwhen he heard that this babe was a girl, instead of the boy he desired,\nhe flew into a towering rage, and vowed it should be confined in one\nof the corner turrets of the castle, to remain there with its nurse\nuntil he had an heir. Poor Ermance pleaded in vain for an occasional\nglimpse, or even for news, of her child. Then, she began a series\nof pilgrimages, and fasted and prayed without ceasing, hoping that\nProvidence would give her a son. To her intense sorrow, however, she\ngave birth to daughters only, who as soon as they came into the world\nwere consigned to separate towers, their cruel father reiterating ever\nmore emphatically the remarks he had made at the advent of his first\nchild.\n\nWhen the fourth daughter came, the poor mother, clasping her\npassionately in her arms, begged permission to share her imprisonment\nand be her nurse. Grimoald, whose wrath by this time knew no bounds,\nthen angrily said:\n\n\u201cSince you can give me nothing but daughters, you may go! But remember,\nI shall keep you in prison for ever. Every one shall believe you are\ndead, and I will take another wife, who, I hope, will not be such a\nfool as you!\u201d\n\nStriding out of his wife\u2019s room, Grimoald then made all his\narrangements. By his orders, the babe was carried to the turret, and\nErmance covered with a sheet as if she were dead. Then a coffin was\nbrought into the room by servants, who fancied their mistress had died\nof grief at losing her fourth child too. But during the night, Raymond,\nGrimoald\u2019s trusted henchman, put some stones into this coffin, nailed\ndown the lid, and secretly conveyed his mistress to the fourth tower,\nwhich, like all the rest, then communicated with his own dwelling by\nsecret passageways.\n\nYears now passed by, during which Ermance devoted all her thoughts to\nher last child, for her husband had made Raymond tell her that the\nother little girls were all dead. From a narrow window high up in the\nwall, she caught a glimpse of her funeral procession; but although she\noften saw her husband ride in and out of the castle yard, she never\nbeheld a woman beside him, for now that his cruelty was known, no one\nwould consent to marry him.\n\nAlthough confined within the narrow limits of a little tower room,\nErmance\u2019s youngest daughter throve like a flower, and became so pretty\nand attractive that she won the heart of her grim jailer. Before she\nwas thirteen, Raymond could refuse her nothing, and when he fell ill,\nhe sent his adopted son and daughter to wait upon her and her mother.\nIn the company of these charming young people,--to whom mother and\ndaughter felt equally attracted,--the prisoners spent many happy hours,\nand heard many tidings of the outside world.\n\nIn the meantime Grimoald was failing fast, and Raymond rushed into the\ntower one night to summon his mistress and her daughter to his master\u2019s\ndeath-bed. On entering her husband\u2019s chamber, Ermance was somewhat\nsurprised to behold there Raymond\u2019s adopted children with two other\nbeautiful girls. But she almost died of joy, when Grimoald faintly\ninformed her that these three maidens were the children for whom she\nhad mourned so long. Then, after begging and obtaining her forgiveness\nfor all he had made her endure, Grimoald told her that Raymond\u2019s\nadopted son, the child of an elder brother, was to inherit the castle\nof Vufflens, where, however, she and her daughters might dwell as long\nas they pleased.\n\nNeither Ermance nor her daughters could mourn greatly for a husband\nand father who had treated them so cruelly, and after he was laid to\nrest, they openly rejoiced to find themselves free to go wherever they\npleased. The four girls, especially, were in a state of rapturous\ndelight over everything they heard and saw; for, until then, their\nworld had consisted of narrow turret chambers, with as much of the\ncountry as they could perceive from loop-hole windows.\n\nIn time, three of these maidens, who were noted for their great beauty,\nmarried the lords of Blonay, Ch\u00e2telard, and La Sarraz, whose castles\nstill exist to-day, while the fourth became the wife of Artus, the\nnew and gallant young lord of Vufflens. Unlike his uncle, this knight\ntreated his wife and children with the utmost consideration, and the\ncorner turrets were never again used as prisons for innocent babes.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN journeying on eastward along the northern shore of the Lake of\nGeneva, one soon comes to a dense forest of pine and hickory, very near\nClarens, where stands the famous overhanging \u201cScex que Plliau,\u201d or\nRaining Rock, of which the following romantic legend is told:\n\nThe son of a rich lord, whose castle was at Montreux, once fell\ndesperately in love with Joliette, the daughter of a neighbouring\nmountaineer. All went well until the young man\u2019s father heard of this\nlove affair, and peremptorily bade his son part for ever from the\nmaiden who was too far beneath him in station ever to become his wife.\n\nThe young lover, unwilling to give up his beloved, yet not daring to\nsee her openly, now began to roam about the country, ostensibly in\nquest of game, but in reality in hope of encountering by chance the\nfair Joliette. One day, the good fairies who watch over all true lovers\nof that region, brought both young people to a charming and secluded\nspot in the forest, and while they sat there under an overhanging rock,\nexchanging vows and confidences, the hours sped by unmarked.\n\nThey were still lingering there, hand in hand, listening to the\nsoughing of the wind in the pines, and the ripple of the waters over\nthe stony bed of Clarens Bay, when they were suddenly startled out\nof their love dream by the angry voice of the young man\u2019s father.\nTerrified beyond measure by this unwelcome interruption, Joliette fled\nfor protection to the arms of her lover, who, clasping her close to his\nheart, gazed defiantly at his sire.\n\nThe baron of Chaulin, however, like all medi\u00e6val fathers, expected his\nson to obey him implicitly; so when he beheld this attitude, he angrily\nbade his followers hurl the disobedient lovers over the rocks into the\nravine at their feet! But, before this fierce order could be carried\nout, Albert sprang in front of Joliette with drawn sword, swearing he\nwould have the life blood of any one who dared to lay a finger upon his\nbetrothed.\n\nHis resolute bearing checked for a moment the advance of the baron\u2019s\nfollowers, who had tried to execute their master\u2019s order. While they\nstood there motionless, silently awaiting further directions, a fairy\nvoice was suddenly heard, bidding the young people marry without fear,\npromising them her protection, and upbraiding the hard-hearted father\nfor opposing their union. This speech, which somewhat encouraged the\nlovers, further exasperated the baron. He furiously bade his men seek\nfor the witch and hang her on the nearest tree, adding that his son\nshould marry Joliette when water dripped through the rock above them,\nbut not before!\n\nTo emphasise this statement, the baron savagely kicked the stone with\nhis mailed heel, and he was about to pour forth more abuse, when he\nsuddenly beheld the rock turn damp and saw the first drop of water form\nand fall. All now gazed in open-mouthed wonder at the overhanging rock,\nto which clung countless big drops which fell one after another, with a\ngentle splash, while new ones formed above in their stead.\n\n\u201cThe rock is raining, the rock is raining!\u201d the baron\u2019s followers\ngasped; and then, seized with superstitious terror, they turned and\nfled, leaving their master alone with the lovers.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d cried the fairy\u2019s voice, \u201cthe rock is raining, and unless the\nbaron of Chaulin breaks his word for the first time in his life, you\nyoung people can now marry without further delay.\u201d\n\nAwed by this phenomenon, or too honourable to disregard his oath, the\nbaron not only consented to the young people\u2019s union, but gave them\nsuch a grand wedding that all Montreux feasted and danced for a whole\nweek.\n\nSince then, water has constantly trickled from the overhanging Raining\nRock, down on the moss and the shiny-leaved water plants beneath\nit; and the delicate fronds of the ferns, growing in every cranny,\nperpetually rise and fall with dainty grace as the huge drops fall down\nupon them, and glancing off, slowly roll from stone to stone until they\nfind their way into the Lake of Geneva.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNORTH of Clarens, on the boundary of the cantons of Vaud and Fribourg,\nis the mighty Dent de Jaman, which can best be crossed by means of the\n\u201ccol,\u201d or pass, of the same name.\n\nA peasant who had never left his native valley in the southern part\nof the canton of Fribourg, once decided that it might be well to see\na little of the world, and after talking a long while of his plans,\nhe bade his friends and relatives an impressive farewell and set out.\nArmed with his mountain staff, he slowly climbed the rough path leading\nto the Col de Jaman. Tramping sturdily on, he soon came to the boundary\nline between his own canton and that of Vaud. Never yet had he ventured\nso far from home, and everything seemed so strange that he kept looking\naround and behind him, marvelling at the view, which grew more and more\nextended with every step.\n\nAs it was one of those bright days when every object is perceptible for\nmiles around, there was plenty to see, and as he had never travelled,\nhe was quite unprepared for the sight which greeted his eyes when\nhe reached the top of the pass. He therefore stood still there, in\nopen-mouthed wonder, his gaze fixed upon the wonderful Lake of Geneva,\nwhose waters were of the exact tint of the sky overhead.\n\nAfter staring thus for some time, the sturdy peasant heaved a great\nsigh, turned slowly on his hobnailed heel, and wended his way home\nagain, along the very path which he had just trod.\n\nWhen he reached his native village once more, the people all crowded\naround him, asking why he had come back so soon, and what had induced\nhim to give up his long-cherished plan to see the world on the other\nside of the mountain?\n\nThe peasant, whose intellect was none of the keenest, listened stolidly\nto all their questions, then, scratching his curly head, slowly\nexplained that on reaching the top of the pass he had discovered it\nwould be useless and rather unsafe to venture any farther, as a big\npiece of the sky had just dropped down into the valley on the other\nside of the mountain!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA SIMPLE mountaineer, whose greatest ambition was to own a horse,\nworked and saved with the utmost diligence until he had amassed a sum\nsufficient to purchase a colt. Thinking it would be very delightful to\nwatch the gradual development of this animal into the coveted steed,\nthe good man tied up his savings in a corner of his handkerchief, and\ntaking his sharpest-pointed staff set out long before day-break for\nAigle, where he knew a large horse and cattle fair was held.\n\nAfter a long, fatiguing tramp down the steep Ormond mountains, the\nsturdy mountaineer reached the valley, and entering the town of\nAigle, proceeded to examine every horse and foal on the market, with\nthe laudable aim of securing the best animal he could for his money.\nPricing them one after another, he found, to his intense dismay, that\nhis savings were not sufficient to pay for the smallest colt offered\nfor sale there, and that he would have to return home without having\nmade the desired purchase.\n\nA charlatan, who had slyly watched him for some time, now stepped up\nto him, and before long drew from the unsophisticated mountaineer a\ndetailed account of his long cherished hopes and of his present bitter\ndisappointment. After listening with feigned sympathy to the whole\nstory, the charlatan suggested that if the peasant\u2019s means would not\npermit his buying a foal, he ought to purchase a mare\u2019s egg; adding\nthat a cow could hatch it, and suckle the foal until it was old enough\nto eat grass.\n\nThe peasant, delighted with this suggestion, promptly expressed a\nfervent desire to buy a mare\u2019s egg if such a treasure could only be\nsecured. Assuring him there would be no difficulty about that, the\ncharlatan led the peasant to another part of the town, and after\nthreading his way amid countless bags and baskets of fruit and\nvegetables exposed for sale, he finally stopped before a cart in which\nlay a huge yellow squash.\n\n\u201cThere is a fine mare\u2019s egg!\u201d cried the charlatan to the peasant,\nmaking a sign to his accomplice, the proprietor of both squash and\ncart. The mountaineer, who had never seen a squash in his life, stared\nat it in awe and wonder, and after asking countless questions and doing\nconsiderable chaffering, he decided to purchase it. To carry it home\nsafely, he then tied it up in his huge handkerchief, which he hung on\nthe end of his stick over his shoulder.\n\nHe was so elated by his purchase, and by the potations he had indulged\nin with his friend, the charlatan, while closing the bargain, that he\nset out for home trolling a merry song. Climbing higher and higher, he\nrevelled in joyful anticipations of his wife\u2019s surprise, and of the\ntime when the huge egg he carried would be safely hatched and a pretty\nfoal would come at his call.\n\nWhile walking near the edge of a precipice, glancing from time to time\ndown its steep sides covered with jagged rocks and stunted bushes,\nthe knots in the handkerchief, loosened by the weight of the squash,\nsuddenly came undone, and the startled peasant beheld his precious\npurchase bounding from rock to rock down the precipitous slope! As he\nstood there, motionless in utter despair, the squash dashed with such\nforce against a sharp stone that it flew into pieces which scattered\nfar and wide.\n\nAt the same moment, a brown hare, hiding in a bush near by, sprang\nin terror from its cover and darted down the mountain. The peasant,\nthinking this was the desired colt, accidentally released from the\nshattered egg, loudly called: \u201cColtie, Coltie, come here!\u201d and wrung\nhis hands in helpless grief when he saw the fleet brown creature\ndisappear.\n\nAfter vainly watching for hours for its return, the peasant sorrowfully\nwent home, and spent the evening relating his various adventures to\nhis wife. And, as long as he lived, he talked of the remarkable horse\nwhich he would have had, had not the fleet-footed colt run away as soon\nas hatched from the mare\u2019s egg bought on the market-place at Aigle.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE mountains around Ormont were once remarkably rich in game of all\nkinds, and the favourite haunts of large herds of chamois. Tradition\nclaims that these animals were herded on the high pastures by countless\ndwarfs, the servants of the august Spirit of the Alps. Chamois-hunters\nwho slew too many of these deer, or who ventured high up the mountains\nand along the dizzy precipices where they were supposed to be safe from\nhuman reach, were sure to be punished for their temerity. Either the\nSpirit of the Alps appeared to them in person (as in Schiller\u2019s poem\nof the Chamois Hunter), bidding them begone in awe-inspiring tones,\nor dwarfs uttered similar warnings. When some rash mortal ventured\nto disobey these orders, the gnomes slyly laid bits of treacherous\nice under his feet, or deftly loosed the rocks on which he trod, thus\nmaking him lose his precarious foothold and fall into some abyss, where\nhe was dashed to pieces.\n\nThe chamois-hunters of the region not only delighted in this\nventuresome sport, but prided themselves upon constantly adding\nnew victims to their hunting record, which was always kept with\nscrupulous care. Some of these men, wandering up to almost inaccessible\nheights, are said to have encountered there dainty, mist-like Alpine\nfairies, who guided them safely over dangerous places, watched over\ntheir slumbers when they rested exhausted at the edge of frightful\nprecipices, and often whispered wonderful dream tales into their drowsy\nears.\n\nBoth dwarfs and fairies are also reported to have revealed to their\nfavourites the places where the finest rock crystals could be found,\nto have delivered into their keeping long-concealed treasures, or to\nhave bestowed upon them magic bullets which never missed their aim,\nor cheeses made of chamois milk, which became whole again after every\nmeal, provided a small piece was left \u201cfor manners.\u201d\n\nAs the chamois are the shyest of game, and their brown coats are not\neasily distinguishable at a distance from the rocks, hunters often\ncarry spy-glasses to locate their quarry. We are told that one of these\nmen, discovering that the chamois were sure to see him and scamper away\nbefore he could lay down his glass and take good aim, once decided\nthat it would be of great assistance to him if he could only see and\nshoot around the corner of any rock behind which he chose to hide.\nAfter much cogitation, therefore, this particular hunter bent his\ngun and spy-glass so they formed sharp angles. Thanks to this clever\ndevice, he easily discovered and killed his prey!\n\n[Illustration: ALPINE FAY.]\n\nAnother sportsman once set out with his pack of dogs to hunt hares.\nHe had not gone very far before seven fine specimens, starting from\ncovert, darted away. The hounds eagerly pursued six of them, but the\nhunter concentrated all his attention upon the seventh and last, which\nwas also the finest. This hare, however, was as sly as it was large and\nfleet-footed, and knowing the man\u2019s unerring aim, began to run around\nand around a haycock. Such was the speed with which the hare ran, that\nthe hunter\u2019s eyes could not follow it, and even the animal\u2019s shadow\nfailed to keep up with it. The sportsman, seeing he would never bag\nthis fine hare unless he too resorted to stratagem, quickly bent the\nbarrel of his gun until it almost formed a hoop. Then, taking quick\naim, he sent after the speeding hare a bullet which laid it low in its\ncircular track around the haycock.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN olden times Wotan reigned alone in the canton of Vaud, to which\nhe is said to have given his local name Vaudai. As long as he was\nsole master of the country, Wotan proved on the whole an amiable and\nbenevolent ruler; but the gradual introduction of Christianity so\nsoured his temper and made him behave so badly, that the Christians\nfinally identified him with the Evil One himself.\n\nThe new religion was so very distasteful to Wotan, that he hated both\nsight and sound of it, and hoping to avoid coming in contact with\nit, retreated far up into the mountains and took up his abode on the\nsummit of the Diablerets. There, he vented his rage by sending dense\nfogs and violent storms down into the valleys, and by producing great\nsnow-storms so that the melting drifts should cause all the rivers to\noverflow.\n\nBrooding over his wrongs one day, Wotan determined to make a last\nand mighty effort to exterminate Christianity in the Rh\u00f4ne valley by\ndrowning all the inhabitants. He therefore called up a fearful storm,\nand at his command the river began to boil and rise and overflow.\nRiding on the crest of a huge wave, Wotan himself swept down the\nvalley, while the waters rose higher and higher, threatening to wash\naway everything along their path. But all Wotan\u2019s magic proved\npowerless when he came in sight of St. Maurice, where the Christians\nhad set up a huge cross. Before this holy emblem the waters suddenly\ncowed, crept back into their wonted place, and flowed peacefully on\nwithin their long-appointed limits.\n\nBaffled and discouraged, Wotan again retreated to the Diablerets, where\nhe is said to beguile the monotony of his sojourn by holding monster\nwitch-dances on certain nights of the year. All the spirits, witches,\nand sorcerers of the neighbourhood then betake themselves on their\nbroomstick-steeds to the Diablerets, to indulge in mad revelry. They\ncircle around so wildly in their sabbatical dances that the motion\nraises a wind which sweeps down the mountain on all sides, while the\nsounds of their cries, hisses, and flying footsteps can often be heard\nfar down the valley.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE souls of all those who have done wrong while on earth are also\nsupposed to haunt the topmost ridges of the Diablerets, where they play\nendless games of ninepins with the demons and their master. This belief\nis so general that in speaking of a dead sinner the natives generally\nsay, \u201cOh, he has gone to join the demons on the Diablerets!\u201d instead\nof stating that he has gone to Hades to receive due punishment for\nhis crimes. Besides, one of the peaks of that mountain is called the\nDevil\u2019s Ninepin; and when a great clatter is heard on the glacier,\nthe people whisper in awestruck tones that the spirits are evidently\nengaged in their infernal game. When stones come clattering down on the\npastures, the shepherds think they are some of the spirits\u2019 missiles\nwhich have strayed out of bounds, and they seek to ward off the nearer\napproach of evil by repeated and fervent signs of the cross.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nON the way to Chamounix, far above the road, you can perceive the\nentrance of the famous stalactite Grotte de Balme, the supposed abode\nof all the fairies of that region. These creatures resembled human\nmaidens, except that they were dark of skin and had no heels to their\nfeet. Clad in long rippling hair, which fell all around them like a\ngarment, the fairies of Balme often sought to lure young shepherds\nand hunters into their retreat. Sometimes, too, they met these men\non lonely mountain paths, where they tried to win their affections\nby gifts of rare Alpine flowers, of fine rock crystals, of lumps of\ngold and silver, or by teaching them the use of the healing herbs and\nshowing them how to discover hidden treasures. The youths who refused\nthe fairies\u2019 advances encountered such resentment that they were sure\nto meet shortly afterwards with some fatal accident. Those who ventured\non the Diablerets, or the Oldenhorn, for instance, were suddenly pushed\nover the rocks into abysses and crevasses, from whence they never\nescaped alive.\n\nBut the young men who received the fairies\u2019 overtures graciously were\nvery well treated, and a few of them were even taken up to the grotto,\nwhere they feasted on choice game, and quaffed fiery wine as long as\nthey obeyed their fairy wives. If, however, they proved untrustworthy,\nor tried to pry into the fairies\u2019 secrets, they were ignominiously\ndismissed; and while some of them managed to return home, the majority\nnever prospered again, and as a rule came to an untimely end.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBEFORE the Rh\u00f4ne enters the Lake of Geneva, and not very far from\nNoville, there are low banks and a few picturesque little islands,\nall covered with lush grass, and bordered with rustling reeds and\nshiny-leaved water-plants of all kinds.\n\nThese marshy places, with their dense luxuriant vegetation, are said\nto be the favourite haunts of fairies and nixies of all kinds, and\nespecially of a local water-nymph known as Fenetta. All the river\nsprites timidly avoid the glance of man; so it is only now and then\nthat some sharp-eyed native catches the gleam of a white hand gently\nparting the tall reeds, or discerns a slender figure, garbed in\ntrailing white robes all dripping with water, and wearing a wreath of\nwater-lilies upon her rippling golden hair.\n\nThe water-nymphs betray their presence only by a slight rustle among\nthe reeds, by an almost inaudible whisper, or by a long-drawn trembling\nsigh. But at dawn and twilight their breath is so cold and clammy, that\nwhenever it happens to strike a mortal, cold shivers begin to creep up\nand down his spine, his finger-nails turn blue, and before long his\nteeth chatter noisily. Then, if the victim looks behind him, he is\npretty sure to descry somewhere among the reeds on the bank a mist-like\ntrail, which is the flutter of the water-nymph\u2019s white veil.\n\nAlthough the river-sprites are lovely in appearance, none of the people\ncare to see them, for those whose eyes have rested upon them have\ninvariably died within a year. For that reason, the banks of the stream\nare generally deserted after sunset, the hour when the fairies are\nwont to sally forth to disport themselves in the cool waters of the\nlimpid river, to tread the measures of their noiseless but fantastic\ndances along the shore, or to flit from one water-lily to another,\ngently opening their waxen petals with cool and dainty fingers.\n\nEven in broad daylight it is well to shun these marshy places, and\nthose who do venture there should always warn the nymphs of their\napproach by whistling, singing, or making some other marked sound. Such\nsignals enable the fairies to scurry out of sight before the visitor\ndraws near; and when he reaches the bank, waving reeds and grasses are\nthe only sign of an unseen presence.\n\nIt is said that a coquettish maiden from Noville once bade her lover go\nand get her some water-lilies, although she knew the hour had struck\nwhen the water-sprites had left their retreat. The young man, who had\nfrequently declared he did not believe there were any water-nymphs,\ncheerfully departed to do her bidding. Running down to the river\u2019s\nedge, he hastily unfastened his skiff, and with long and vigorous\nstrokes rowed out to the place where the water-lilies softly rose and\nfell on the rippling waters in the midst of their broad green leaves.\n\n[Illustration: THE MIST NYMPH.]\n\nThe last golden gleams had just died out in the west, gray shadows had\nreplaced the flush on the snow mountains, and a cool evening breeze was\nsweeping gently over the river. The young man, who had laboured under\nthe burning sun all day, revelled in the freshness all around him,\nand although he caught glimpses of vapoury white here and there along\nthe shore, he thought they were trails of mist, and smiled to himself\nbecause superstitious mortals mistook them for the flutter of the\nnymphs\u2019 gossamer veils.\n\nHe was just bending over the edge of the boat to reach the largest and\nfinest lily, when he felt an icy breath on his neck, and turning around\nwith a start, dimly perceived Fenetta\u2019s lovely form, and noticed that\nshe was sadly and gently motioning to him to depart. As she vanished,\nhe suddenly felt cold chills running all over him, and looking downward\nperceived that his sunburned hands seemed strangely wan and pale. With\nchattering teeth and failing strength he now rowed back to the shore;\nbut although he grew colder and colder every minute, and felt as if the\nchill had gone to his very heart, he picked up the lilies to carry them\nto his beloved.\n\nReaching her door with faltering steps, he swooned on the threshold,\nscattering the lilies at the feet of the maiden, who came out to\nwelcome him with merry words and arch smiles. At first she fancied he\nhad merely tripped, but seeing he did not immediately rise, she stooped\nover him barely in time to catch his last sigh and a faint whisper of\n\u201cFenetta! Fenetta!\u201d\n\nThe sudden death of this stalwart young lover proved such a shock to\nthe maiden of Noville, that she lost her reason and began to wander\nalong the river-bank among the reeds, constantly murmuring \u201cFenetta!\nFenetta!\u201d\n\nThe nymph, in pity for her sorrow, must have appeared to her too; for\none evening she came home with dripping garments and shivering from\nhead to foot. After a few days\u2019 illness, the girl gently passed away,\nstill whispering the water-nymph\u2019s name; and since then youths and\nmaidens have carefully avoided this fatal spot after sundown.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN the valley of Conthey, noted for its picturesque situation as well\nas for its wines, there once dwelt a tailor who made fun of his wife\nbecause she firmly believed in witches, ghosts, and spirits of all\nkinds, and even maintained that a helpful sprite assisted her when she\nhad more work on hand than she could easily accomplish.\n\nThe tailor, who had been freely tasting the vintage of some of his\nneighbours, once mockingly remarked, while sitting cross-legged upon\nhis bench, that he wished her familiar spirit would appear and take him\non a nightly journey through the Valais, for he would like to see the\nfamous witches and demons about which he had heard so many tales.\n\nThe words were scarcely out of his mouth, when a grinning, mischievous\ndwarf, clad in all the colours of the rainbow, suddenly darted out of\na corner, saying, \u201cYour wish shall be granted!\u201d At the same moment\nthe tailor felt a clawlike hand close over his coat-collar, and was\nwhisked through the air to Monthey. There, he and the dwarf alighted\non the banks of the Viege, while the clocks were solemnly tolling the\nmidnight hour, and quickly mounted a coal-black ram which came rushing\nout of the churchyard to meet them. The dwarf, who had jerked the\ntailor on the ram\u2019s back, roughly bade him hold fast, whispering that\ntheir fleet-footed steed was the spectral ram of Monthey, which ranged\nnoisily through the land on certain days in the year.\n\nThey now sped on so fast that the tailor felt the wind whistle through\nhis hair, and he almost fainted with terror when his guide pointed\nout the huge Ivy Snake, which was mounting guard over all the gold of\nheathendom, spread out on a barren heath. The snake no sooner perceived\nthem than it rushed towards them, hissing loudly and breathing fire and\nbrimstone from its gaping mouth. A timely kick, administered by the\ndwarf, fortunately urged the black ram on to such speed, that the Ivy\nSnake could not overtake them however fast it pursued.\n\nAt St. Maurice the ram paused for a moment near the monastery\nfish-pond, where a dead trout suddenly rose to the surface of the water.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d cried the dwarf, \u201cone of the choristers has just died, for\nwhenever one of them breathes his last, a dead trout appears in this\npond.\u201d\n\nIn confirmation of his words, a funeral knell began to toll, and this\nsound accompanied them for some time as they sped on towards the Plan\nNev\u00e9. Here, among the gray rocks and along the huge glacial stream,\nthey beheld countless barefooted ghosts painfully threading their\nway. The dwarf then explained to the tailor that these spirits were\ncondemned to carry fine sand up the mountain in sieves, but that as\nevery grain ran out long before they reached their goal, they were\nobliged to begin again and again their hopeless task.\n\nAt the bottom of a neighbouring well, the dwarf next pointed out the\nghost of Nero, who, in punishment for his manifold sins, was condemned\nto blow huge bubbles up to the surface without ever stopping to rest.\nIn the Aucenda, near Gex, the dwarf also showed him the spirits of\ndishonest lawyers, who, having fished in figuratively troubled waters\nall their lives, were now condemned to do the same in the ice-cold\nstream, where they were further employed in brewing the storms and\nfreshets which desolate that region.\n\nBefore the bewildered tailor had time to comment upon these awful\nsights, he was whisked away to La Soye, where a red-headed maiden\ntold him she would give him a golden calf, provided he would kiss her\nthrice. Reasoning that it was far from Conthey, and that his wife\ncould not possibly see him, the tailor pursed up his lips, and was\nabout to bestow the first kiss, when the red-headed girl was suddenly\ntransformed into a hideous, writhing dragon. This metamorphosis so\nterrified the poor tailor that he buried his heels in the flanks of the\nblack ram, which darted away at such a rattling pace that they soon\nreached Sion.\n\nThere the dwarf transferred the tailor to the back of the three-legged\nwhite horse which haunts this city, and as they galloped away, the\ntailor saw that they were followed by a fire-breathing boar, the ram,\nthe dragon, the red-headed girl, the ghosts of Plan Nev\u00e9 with their\nsieves, and the dripping lawyers. In the dim distance he could also\ndescry Nero, still blowing huge bubbles, and the deceased chorister\nholding a dead trout between his teeth.\n\nThis strange procession now swept along the Rh\u00f4ne valley to the Baths\nof Leuk, where they were joined by a mischievous sprite who rapped\nloudly at every door as he darted past. At Zauchet, their ranks were\nfurther increased by the wraith of a giant ox, whose horns glowed like\nlive coals and whose tail consisted of a flaming torch.\n\nNext they sped down the Visp valley, where a woman once refused food\nto Our Lord when he journeyed through the land. In punishment for this\nsin, the hamlet where she dwelt sank beneath the ground, and a stream\nnow runs over the broad, flat stone which formed the altar of the\nvillage church.\n\nArriving at Zermatt, the dwarf and tailor exchanged their mount for\na blue-haired donkey, whose loud bray, added to the snorts, groans,\nhisses, and cries of their ghostly train, created an awful din in the\npeaceful valleys through which they swept like the wind. Arriving\nfinally at Lake Champey, the Blue Ass swam to an island, where the\nDevil of Corbassi\u00e8re and a number of witches were madly treading the\nswift measures of an infernal dance.\n\nThe tailor, seeing this, sprang from his steed to join them; but when\nhe offered to kiss the youngest and prettiest of the witches, the\nDevil of Corbassi\u00e8re angrily flung him head first into the lake. As\nthe witches belaboured him with their broomsticks whenever he tried to\ncreep ashore on the island, the tailor finally struck out for the other\nbank, where he sank down, panting and exhausted, and closed his eyes.\n\nSuddenly he felt a small hand laid upon him, and thinking it must be\none of his recent tormentors, he cried aloud in terror, \u201cLeave me\nalone, you witch!\u201d\n\nA vigorous box on his ear made him open his eyes with a start, just\nin time to see his wife standing over him with upraised hand, saying,\n\u201cI\u2019ll teach you to call me a witch!\u201d\n\nThe tailor now protested that he had done nothing of the kind; but\nalthough his wife declared that he had merely fallen asleep over his\nwork, he knew that his spirit had journeyed all through the Valais, in\ncompany with the dwarf and the demons which haunt the land.\n\nHe was so thoroughly imbued with this belief that he never made fun of\nhis wife\u2019s superstitions again, and when sceptics denied the existence\nof ghosts, demons, or witches, he merely shook his head, for he had\nseen for himself that \u201cthere are more things in heaven and earth than\nare dreamt of in our philosophy.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ascension of the Fletschhorn, near the Simplon, was probably first\naccomplished in 1856, but tradition claims that this feat was performed\nlong before this date by a dauntless Swiss.\n\nHe resolved to be the first to reach the top of the mountain, and with\nthat object in view started to scale it early one fine morning. As he\ndid not know which road to follow, he scrambled up and down the rocks,\nthrough snow and over ice, and thus was quite exhausted long before he\ncame near the top, where jagged rocks and steep walls of ice offer only\na most precarious foothold.\n\nThe mountaineer, who was an expert climber, knew it would be folly to\nventure any farther that day, so he sat down to rest a moment before he\nbegan the descent. While sitting there on the mountain side, trying to\nrecover his breath, he suddenly heard a ghostly voice far above him,\nbidding him bring a cat, dog, and cock, as propitiatory sacrifices to\nthe Spirit of the Mountain next time he attempted the ascent.\n\nRefreshed by a few days\u2019 rest and by strengthening food, the\nmountaineer soon set out again, taking with him the three animals the\nMountain Spirit had asked for. At the first dangerous spot the dog lost\nhis foothold and fell down a precipice; farther on even the cat\u2019s sharp\nclaws failed to preserve it from slipping down into the blue-green\ndepths of a crevasse, and after some more rough climbing the cold grew\nso intense that the poor cock was frozen stiff!\n\nThe brave mountaineer now pressed on alone, although it was snowing\nhard and the wind blew sharp ice splinters into his face which almost\nblinded him. Presently the storm began to rage with such fury that the\nman had to relinquish his purpose, although he had now reached a much\nhigher point than the first time.\n\nOn arriving home, friends and neighbours crowded around him, to hear\na minute account of his adventures; but they all deemed him more\nthan foolhardy when he declared that, in spite of all the perils\nencountered, he meant to try again on the next favourable day.\n\nTrue to his resolve, however, the man started out again with cat,\ndog, and cock, which poor animals met with the same fate as their\npredecessors. As for the Swiss himself, he climbed higher and higher,\nuntil he came so near the summit that a last determined effort would\nhave enabled him to reach it. But the great exertions he had made, and\nthe rarefied atmosphere, brought on a severe headache which made him\nfeel very weak and dizzy. Nevertheless he bravely went on until the\npain in his head grew so intolerable that it seemed as if his skull\nwould burst. He therefore relinquished his attempt, and crept slowly\nhome, feeling his headache decrease with every downward step.\n\nBut even this last experience could not daunt our climber, who set out\nagain a few days later, with the same strange trio of animals. This\ntime, however, he prudently provided himself with an iron hoop, which\nfitting closely around his head, would prevent its bursting should he\nagain reach a great altitude!\n\nThus equipped, he wended his way up the Fletschhorn, where cat, dog,\nand rooster soon perished, leaving the man to continue his perilous\nclimb alone. Although the pain in his head again grew worse with\nevery upward step, our mountaineer pressed bravely on, knowing the\niron band would hold fast, and finally reached the topmost pinnacle of\nthe mountain. His fellow-citizens, proud of this feat, bestowed upon\nhim the Fletschalp, and honoured him as long as he lived as the most\nskilful Alpine climber of that part of the country.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPATCHES of so-called red snow are sometimes found high up on the Alps;\nbut while scientists ascribe that peculiar colour to a microscopic\nfungus growth, the legend accounts for the vivid hue in a very\ndifferent way.\n\nIn bygone times, before the Alps had been pierced by tunnels and even\nbefore convenient roadways had been built, rough paths leading over the\nvarious passes served as means of communication between Switzerland\nand Italy. These were much frequented by pack-drivers with their\nsure-footed mules, and among other things thus imported were fiery\nItalian wines. Some of the muleteers who had a tendency to drink, or\nwho were none too scrupulous to cheat their employers, used to tap\nthe barrels and kegs on their way over the mountains, replacing the\nwine they had consumed by water from some mountain stream, so that the\nvessels were always full when they reached their destination.\n\nThe pack-drivers on the Furka Pass were, it seems, especially addicted\nto this species of peculation, and generally paused at the top of the\npass to refresh themselves after their long and arduous climb. In\ntheir eagerness to partake of the strength-giving fluid, some of them\noften tapped their barrels so hastily that red wine spurted forth, and\nfalling upon the immaculate snow gave it a blood-like tinge.\n\nIn punishment for this crime, or for so carelessly guarding their\nmerchandise that they did not even notice when barrels leaked, many\npack-drivers are now said to haunt this pass, continually treading\nthe path they once went over. They are tormented by a thirst such as\nis known by the damned only, and which all the ice, snow, and running\nstreams around there cannot quench. Their only refreshment now comes\nfrom the scattered drops remaining here and there upon the snow, or\nfrom small libations which compassionate travellers still pour out\nalong the pass, to moisten the parched lips and throats of these\nunhappy spirits.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE old and picturesque city of Grandson, on the west shore of Lake\nNeuch\u00e2tel, and in the northern part of the canton of Vaud, is noted\nin history as the place where, in 1476, fifty thousand Burgundians,\nunder their Duke Charles the Bold, were routed with great slaughter by\nless than half that number of Swiss patriots. Rich and quaint specimens\nof the booty secured on that memorable occasion by the victors, still\nadorn various Swiss museums and arsenals; Soleure exhibiting the\ncostume of Charles\u2019s jester, while Lucerne boasts of the golden Seal of\nBurgundy.\n\nMany romantic legends are told of the town and castle of Grandson,\nwhich were defended by a Bernese patriot, Brandolf of Stein, at the\nbeginning of the Burgundian war. Such was the courage and skill of this\ncommander, that, perceiving he could not secure the town by force, the\nCount of Romont, Charles\u2019s ally, resorted to stratagem. It succeeded\nonly too well, and the Burgundians were already masters of the town\nwhen the first alarm was given, and Stein rushed bravely into the fray\nat the head of his five hundred men. The Swiss, however, soon saw\nthat the town was lost, and wishing to preserve the castle until his\ncountrymen could send reinforcements to eject the Burgundians, Stein\nquickly ordered a retreat.\n\nTo make sure that the enemy would be held at bay until all his men\nwere safe, and the castle gates duly closed, Stein himself covered\ntheir retreat; but at the last moment he was surrounded and overpowered\nby Romont, who, forcing him to surrender, led him away to his own\nquarters to await the arrival and decree of the Duke.\n\nAs soon as Charles came, he bade Romont lead Stein under the walls\nof the castle, and have a herald proclaim that unless the garrison\nsurrendered immediately, Stein would be put to death. This order was\nexecuted; but the last words of the proclamation had scarcely been\nuttered when the prisoner sternly cried,--\n\n\u201cComrades, pay no heed to these summons. You were Swiss before you\nbecame my friends; therefore be true to your country, and die rather\nthan relinquish your trust. But if you love me, guard well my treasure\nand cast it into the lake rather than let it fall into the hands of our\nenemy.\u201d\n\nBefore the Burgundians could recover sufficient presence of mind to\nsilence him, this brief speech was ended, and it was clear that not a\nword of it had been lost, for the garrison shouted a unanimous refusal\nto yield when summoned to do so for the third and last time. Still,\nwhen the Swiss saw their beloved chief led away to the scaffold, hot\ntears poured freely down their bronzed and bearded cheeks.\n\nSuch was their respect for their master\u2019s memory that they resisted\nevery attack, holding out until forged papers convinced them that Bern\nwas in the power of the Burgundians, and that they could expect no\nhelp from their distressed countrymen. These false tidings determined\nthem to surrender the castle, provided their safety was guaranteed by\nCharles the Bold.\n\nBut the gates were no sooner opened than Charles, in spite of his\npromises, ordered most of these brave men cast into the lake or\nhanged, sparing only a few of those who pledged themselves to serve\nhim faithfully. Having thus rid himself of the garrison, the Duke\nnext proceeded to search for Stein\u2019s treasure, but all in vain. He\nquestioned the few survivors, but they truthfully declared they had\nnever heard of any store of gold, silver, or precious stones. Convinced\nnevertheless that Stein must have owned at least one priceless jewel,\nCharles bitterly regretted having slain him before ascertaining the\nnature and place of concealment of that treasure.\n\nThinking that Laurent, keeper of the alarm tower, an old retainer of\nStein\u2019s, might know something about it, Charles went in quest of him,\nharshly threatening to pitch him into the lake, unless he immediately\nrevealed all he knew concerning his master\u2019s possessions. Thus\nconstrained, Laurent reluctantly admitted that Stein, having spared the\nlife of a Mussulman, had received from this grateful man a pyramidal\ndiamond of fabulous value, from which hung by a slender golden chain a\nhuge pear-shaped pearl.\n\nThe Duke, who had a passion for diamonds, immediately ordered a new\nand more minute search; but as the treasure was not forthcoming, he\nrenewed his visit and threats, telling Laurent he must produce the\nmissing jewel or die on the spot. In vain the poor man swore he had\nnever seen the diamond since his mistress wore it on her wedding-day;\nthe Duke refused to believe him, and angrily ordered him flung out of\nthe window! Just then, however, a panel in the wall directly opposite\nCharles slipped noiselessly aside, revealing a deep niche in which\nstood a beautiful, stern-faced woman, gowned all in black, but wearing\na dazzling diamond pendant. This woman stepped slowly forward, the\npanel closed behind her, and the Duke started back in terror when she\nthrew the magnificent jewel at his feet, crying,--\n\n\u201cThere, traitor, behold the diamond you covet; but Stein\u2019s real\ntreasures, his sorrowing wife and innocent daughter, will die by their\nown hand rather than fall into the power of such a miscreant as you!\u201d\n\nThen, before the Duke could recover sufficient presence of mind to\nspeak or move, the Lady of Stein vanished behind the secret panel, and\nCharles could have believed himself victim of a delusion had not the\njewel still sparkled at his feet.\n\nThe Lady of Stein had vanished; but the Burgundian now learned from\nLaurent that the two ladies were waiting, in the secret chambers of the\ncastle, for an opportunity to escape to a convent, where both intended\nto take the veil, since he had broken their hearts by killing Stein.\n\nCharles, who had an eye for beauty, promptly reasoned that the daughter\nof such a handsome mother must be very lovely, and he began to devise\nan excuse to see her. He therefore artfully informed Laurent that\nRomont alone was to blame for Stein\u2019s death; adding that his dearest\nwish was to provide a suitable husband for Elizabeth Stein, and that,\nin token of regard, he would give her her father\u2019s jewel as wedding\npresent. Then he persuaded Laurent to carry a message to his stern\nmistress and induce her to come down into the great hall of the castle,\nwhere he would await her.\n\nThe Duke having departed, Laurent touched a cunningly hidden spring,\nand threaded his way along secret passages which led from tower to\ntower, down long, narrow stairs, and into a passageway opening out on\nthe lake. In one of these recesses he found his mistress, who finally\nconsented to appear before Charles with her seventeen-year-old daughter\nElizabeth.\n\nThe moment Charles\u2019s eyes rested upon this lovely maiden, he was seized\nwith a mad passion, which he determined to gratify at any cost. His\nfirst move was to try and gain the good graces of both women, but in\nspite of all his protestations and courteous speeches, the Lady of\nStein declared he must prove his innocence by punishing her husband\u2019s\nmurderer, adding that her daughter would either marry her father\u2019s\navenger or become a nun.\n\nOn hearing these words, Charles gave immediate orders to seize Romont\nand have him beheaded in the presence of both ladies. A few moments\nlater, therefore, the Count stood in the castle yard; but when the\nexecutioner read aloud his death sentence, he boldly declared he\nwas neither a murderer nor a traitor, and that he could prove his\ninnocence, were the guest in his tent only allowed to appear with him\nbefore Charles. Anxious to seem just and generous in the eyes of the\nladies, the Duke granted this request, and the brave young James of\nRomont soon came in, followed by a man in full armour.\n\n\u201cMy lord Duke,\u201d cried Romont, \u201cI am not a traitor! I have merely been\nguilty of disobeying an order which I knew you would regret in time.\nYou accuse me of being Stein\u2019s murderer; that is impossible, for,\nbehold! there he stands!\u201d\n\nAt that moment the stranger to whom Romont pointed threw up his\nvizor, and both ladies rapturously flew into his arms, thus proving\nhis unmistakable identity. The first outburst of emotion over, Stein\ntold his wife and daughter how generously Romont had treated him, and\nCharles winced when he heard them express their undying gratitude, and\nsaw the glances exchanged by the young people, who had fallen in love\nwith each other at first sight.\n\nTo rid himself of the youthful saviour who found such evident favour in\nElizabeth\u2019s eyes, Charles now sternly ordered Romont back to prison,\nsaying he must prove himself innocent of the charge of treachery which\nhad also been brought against him.\n\nSure of speedy acquittal,--for he was the soul of honour,--Romont\nquietly allowed himself to be led away to a dungeon, where he beguiled\nthe weary hours by long day-dreams, and by composing and singing tender\nlove-songs in praise of the fair Elizabeth.\n\nIn the meantime, Charles led the Stein family to his own camp, where\nhe assigned them sumptuous tents, and surrounded them with all manner\nof graceful attentions. But in spite of all his efforts to win their\nconfidence, Stein and his wife could not help suspecting he was not\nso good and true as he would fain appear. For this reason they both\nwatched carefully over their daughter, and the Duke could not secure a\nmoment\u2019s private intercourse with her, although he frequently tried to\ndo so.\n\nThis watchfulness vexed Charles greatly; for while he loved the girl,\nhe had no intention of marrying her, but he knew her parents would\ndetect his evil intentions should he approach her through them.\n\nOne day, he accidentally learned that Romont managed to send love-songs\nto the fair Elizabeth, and that her parents unconsciously encouraged\nher secret passion for the young prisoner by speaking of him in terms\nof the highest praise. Thinking he might perchance win Elizabeth by\nworking upon her fears for Romont\u2019s safety, the Duke now informed Stein\nthat he would forgive and release the prisoner, provided Elizabeth\ninterceded in his behalf, and if he were allowed to make sure of her\nreal sentiments in a private interview.\n\nAlthough loath to lose sight of his daughter even for a minute, Stein\nfelt too deeply in Romont\u2019s debt to refuse this apparently simple\nrequest, and himself conducted Elizabeth to the Duke\u2019s tent, where he\nbade her enter while he mounted guard at the door.\n\nThe timid Elizabeth therefore presented herself alone before Charles,\nwho gently reassured her, and then explained that if she would only\nconsent to be his, Romont should be released, but that if she refused,\nthe young man should be put to death.\n\nAt first the virtuous Elizabeth could not credit her ears, but when the\nDuke drew near as if to clasp her in his arms, she fled to her father\ncrying--\n\n\u201cTake me away, father! The poor prisoner we love will have to die, but\nI know he would rather lose his life than see me dishonoured!\u201d\n\nStein gnashed his teeth on hearing these words, which more than\nconfirmed his darkest suspicions; and while he gently led his weeping\ndaughter back to her mother, he tried to plan how best to avenge this\ndeadly insult.\n\nIn the meantime, the Duke feverishly paced his tent, and calling for\nhis confidant asked him what course he could pursue to recover the\nmaiden\u2019s confidence and still attain his evil ends. This man, whose\ntask it was to gratify the Duke\u2019s passions, now artfully suggested that\nCharles should declare he had merely wished to test Elizabeth\u2019s virtue,\nand should propose to her parents that she marry Romont without delay.\nThen, under pretext of sparing the latter the hard duty of fighting\nagainst his wife\u2019s people, Charles was to dismiss Romont from the army.\n\nBut while he thus openly posed as the young people\u2019s friend and\nbenefactor, one of his emissaries was to persuade a few of the camp\nfollowers that Romont was a traitor, and instigate them to create a\ndisturbance when the bridal party left the church. In the midst of the\nconfusion a hired assassin could easily kill Romont; and the Duke,\nin pretending to avenge his death and protect Elizabeth, would gain\npossession of his vast estates and of his young widow, who would then\nbe at his mercy.\n\nThis artful plan so pleased Charles that he immediately hastened to the\nSteins\u2019 tent, where he played his part with such consummate skill that\nthey believed all he said, and joyfully consented to their daughter\u2019s\nimmediate marriage.\n\nThe preparations were speedily made, and the nuptials solemnised; but\nas the little procession left the church, Stein and the Duke were\ndetained for a moment by a man with a petition.\n\nRomont, proudly leading his peerless young bride, on whose bosom\nsparkled the famous diamond, suddenly found himself surrounded by a\nbrawling troop of soldiers, who angrily shook their fists at him and\ndenounced him as a traitor. Before he could speak one word in his own\ndefence, the hired assassin sprang forward with raised dagger, crying,\n\u201cDie, thou traitor!\u201d\n\nJust then Elizabeth sprang forward, and the sharp blade had to pass\nthrough her slender body before it could touch Romont. A scene of\nindescribable confusion ensued; but although Romont swiftly carried his\ndying bride into her mother\u2019s tent, where every care was lavished upon\nher, she lived only long enough to whisper, \u201cI die happy since I could\nsave you, beloved!\u201d and gently breathed her last.\n\nWhen the fatal truth dawned upon the frantic bridegroom, he fell\nfainting across his dead bride; and it was only then that they\ndiscovered that he too had been wounded, for his doublet was drenched\nwith blood. Nobly forgetting her own sorrow to minister to her\nhusband\u2019s saviour, the Lady of Stein nursed Romont so carefully that in\nspite of his longing to follow Elizabeth\u2019s pure spirit into the better\nland, he was soon restored to health. But he never forgot his bride,\nand when her parents ultimately died, he left his own country to take\nup his abode in a foreign land.\n\nAs for the Duke, he was sorely punished for all his crimes. Not only\ndid he lose Elizabeth, whom he passionately loved; but a few days after\nher death he was defeated by her countrymen at the battle of Grandson.\nSuch was the fury of that Swiss onslaught, that Charles would have\nfallen into their hands had not his fleet steed swiftly carried him out\nof their reach. A few months later he suffered a second crushing defeat\nat their hands at Morat; and he was slain near Nancy, in the following\nyear, while trying to escape from his Swiss foes for the third and last\ntime.\n\n\n\n\nFRIBOURG\n\n\nThe city of Fribourg, capital of the canton of the same name, is\npicturesquely situated on a rocky height almost surrounded by the\nSarine, one of the tributaries of the Aare. A medi\u00e6val town, it boasts\nof many interesting relics, while in its cathedral stands the great\nmodern organ known the world over.\n\nWhen Charles the Bold experienced his second appalling defeat at Morat,\nin 1476, one of the Swiss soldiers volunteered to carry the joyful\ntidings to Fribourg, his native city. Although he had fought bravely\nand was very weary after his almost superhuman efforts, he snatched\na green twig from a neighbouring lime-tree, stuck it in his hat so\nthat his people could see from afar this sign of victory, and quickly\nstarted for home. Tradition claims that he ran every step of the\nway; the fact is, he reached the city so exhausted that he sank down\nlifeless as soon as the one word \u201cVictory\u201d had escaped from his parched\nlips.\n\nHis fellow-citizens were so proud of this victory, and of the messenger\nwho brought the news so quickly to them, that they planted the\nlime twig on the very spot where he had fallen. There it throve and\ngrew, until it is now a mighty tree, with a boll fourteen feet in\ncircumference; and it still serves as a green monument of this famous\ntriumph of the Swiss army.\n\nThe whole valley of the Sarine and its tributaries is most picturesque,\nand the soil so fertile that it supports countless heads of the finest\ncattle in the world. After passing the quaint little medi\u00e6val town of\nRomont, with its old castle and fortifications, you come to a hill in\nthe middle of the Sarine valley on which rises the famous castle of\nGruy\u00e8re, recently restored, and now one of the most beautiful show\nplaces in Switzerland.\n\nThe view from Gruy\u00e8re is most charming, and includes not only the\nwinding course of the Sarine, and the green hills dotted with the\nherds,--which furnish the renowned Swiss or Gruy\u00e8re cheese,--but beyond\nrise rocky pine-clad mountains, the most important of which is the\nMol\u00e9son.\n\nThe founding of the castle of Gruy\u00e8re is attributed to Gruerius, a\ncaptain in the Thebaid legion, who, escaping martyrdom in the days of\nDiocletian, fled into the mountains. After threading his way through\nthe dense forests which then clothed these grassy hills, he finally\nreached the point where the castle now stands. There, helped by other\nfugitive Christians, he began to clear away the primeval forest, and\nfounded the castle and town which bear his name.\n\nGruy\u00e8re thus became the cradle of a new race, which, constantly\nincreasing in wealth and power, soon ruled over a vast extent of land\npeopled by many vassals. The Counts of Gruy\u00e8re were in general good\nmasters; and the land, carefully tilled by their dependants, grew more\nand more productive, until many villages dotted the country, while the\ntinkle of cow-bells was heard for miles around.\n\nIn the days of the Crusades, many knights passed this castle on their\nway to the Holy Land; and the Counts of Gruy\u00e8re, assuming the cross\ntoo, joined them with the fatalistic cry, \u201cGo we must, return who may!\u201d\n(\u201cS\u2019agit d\u2019aller, reviendra qui pourra!\u201d)\n\nIn spite of their wealth and extensive possessions, the Counts of\nGruy\u00e8re were none too well informed, for we are told they na\u00efvely asked\ntheir companions whether the sea they had to cross on their way to\nPalestine could possibly be as large as the stretch of water they had\nseen in making a pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Lucerne.\n\nToward the end of the fourteenth century, Margaret, Countess of\nGruy\u00e8re, was very sad, because, although she had already been married\nseveral years, Providence had not yet vouchsafed her a child. In\nher anxiety to obtain offspring, this fair Countess consulted the\nastrologers and other fortune-tellers who visited the castle; but as\ntheir promises afforded her very little satisfaction, she soon resorted\nto pilgrimages, fasting, and long seasons of fervent prayer.\n\nAll the pilgrims who stopped at the castle, on their way to and from\nthe shrines at Einsiedlen and Lucerne, were entertained with the utmost\nhospitality at Gruy\u00e8re, and when they departed the Countess invariably\nloaded them with gifts, gently begging them to intercede for her when\nthey reached the goal of their pilgrimage.\n\nGarbed like a nun, in the plainest of homespun dresses, the Countess\ndiligently visited the poor and sick, helped the needy, and was so good\nand charitable to all that she was revered throughout the country like\na saint. Besides, every night and morning, she spent hours on her knees\nin the castle chapel, imploring the Virgin and all the saints to grant\nher her heart\u2019s desire.\n\nOne evening, when twilight was fast merging into darkness, she still\nlingered there on her knees, weeping bitterly because hitherto all her\nprayers had remained unanswered. Absorbed in sorrowful thoughts, and\nuttering broken words of supplication between her sobs, the Countess\nfailed to notice the entrance of a lame beggar who had often been the\nrecipient of her bounty.\n\nThe sound of suppressed weeping and convulsive prayer soon attracted\nthe beggar\u2019s attention, and peering through the gloom,--which the\ntaper burning on the altar only seemed to intensify,--he soon descried\na woman clad in rough homespun. Lame Hans, whose sorest trial was an\noccasional lack of food, immediately concluded that this poor woman\nmust be needy, and catching the word \u201cchildren,\u201d he hastily drew some\ncoarse bread and cheese out of his wallet, and laid it beside her,\nsaying,--\n\n\u201cThis is all I have, my poor woman, but the Holy Virgin\u2019s blessing\nresting upon it will enable it to dry your tears.\u201d\n\nThen, before the astonished Countess could say a word, the lame man\nhobbled off; and although he went to bed hungry, he felt a warm glow in\nthe region of his heart whenever he pictured the zest with which the\nhungry children would devour his bread and cheese.\n\nThe Countess came out of the chapel a few moments after Hans, and as\nshe returned to her apartments her servants marvelled at the radiant\nexpression of her face, although it bore marks of recent tears. They\nwere still more surprised when they saw her come forth in her richest\napparel to welcome her husband and his friends on their return from\nthe chase. Their amazement was shared by the hunters, who gazed with\nunconcealed wonder at the hostess whom they had left in the morning\npale, silent, and dejected, but who now seemed radiant with life and\nhope.\n\nHer unwonted vivacity charmed both husband and guests; and when toward\nthe end of the evening meal she begged leave to lay before them a new\ndish, they all received the proposal with joyful acclamations. At a\nsign from the fair ch\u00e2telaine, her aged nurse and favourite page then\nbrought in two covered silver dishes, which they gravely set before\ntheir master.\n\nAll eyes were riveted on these vessels when the Count of Gruy\u00e8re\nsimultaneously raised both covers; and his expression of disappointment\nwas mirrored on every face, when instead of choice dainties nothing\nwas seen but the coarse bread and cheese of the peasant population.\nInterrogative glances were therefore soon directed to the Countess,\nwho with charming grace and simplicity related her adventure in the\nchapel and repeated the lame beggar\u2019s words. She concluded by saying\nthat she now believed her prayers would be answered, and begged all\npresent to partake with her of the food which had come to her in such\na strange way. Touched by the tale she told, one and all solemnly\nate the bread and cheese she gave them; but her old nurse laid her\nshare carefully aside, saying she would partake of it only when her\nmistress\u2019s dearest wish had been fulfilled.\n\nThen the castle chaplain arose, filled all the beakers with wine,\nblessed them as solemnly as if he were about to celebrate a communion\nservice, and all drank to the health of the gracious Countess and the\nspeedy coming of a son and heir to the castle of Gruy\u00e8re.\n\nWithin a year from that day the Stork brought a beautiful boy to the\nCountess, and at his christening feast many noble guests merrily drank\nhis health. The Countess, radiant with happiness, bestowed bountiful\nalms upon all the poor, giving lame Hans a new suit of clothes, and a\npension to prevent his ever feeling the pangs of hunger again.\n\nIn the midst of this feast the old nurse came in and solemnly ate her\ncarefully treasured share of Hans\u2019s bread and cheese. Then she made a\ndeep curtsey to her mistress, saying,--\n\n\u201cGracious Lady, you see it is just as I always told you. To the one who\ngives freely, much will be given. May God preserve you and your husband\nand grant your son a long, happy, and useful life at Gruy\u00e8re!\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFROM the castle and town of Gruy\u00e8re one can enjoy a fine view of\nthe Mol\u00e9son, the highest peak in that region, from whose summit can\nbe seen the Lake of Geneva with Mont Blanc, the Dent du Midi, and\nthe Diablerets to the south. West and east are the Jura and Titlis\nmountains, while to the north extends the fertile valley of the Sarine.\n\nHere on the Mol\u00e9son, as well as on most mountain pastures in\nSwitzerland, you can often hear the famous Ranz des Vaches, Kuhreihen,\nor musical call, which the cattle no sooner hear than they crowd around\ntheir herdsmen.\n\nThis melody, repeated by the echoes, and accompanied by the ripple and\nsplash of running waters, the tintinnabulations of cow-bells, and the\nlowing of the kine, has a peculiar charm for all who hear it, and in\nwords runs about as follows:--\n\n     \u201cThe herdsmen of the Colombettes\n      At the dawn of day have risen;\n        Ha, ah! ha, ah!\n      Cows, cows, to the milking come!\n      Come here, all of you.\n      White ones and black ones,\n      Red and brindled,\n      Young ones, old ones,\n      Under this oak-tree,\n      Where I will milk you;\n      Under this poplar,\n      Where I will drain you!\n      Cows, cows! to the milking come!\u201d[1]\n\n      [1] Poems of Places--Switzerland: Longfellow.\n\nThe Mol\u00e9son was long the favourite field of the chamois-hunters in\nFribourg. One of these men having been overtaken by darkness high up on\nthe mountain, once sought refuge in a deserted herdsmen\u2019s hut. Drawing\nnear it, he was surprised to hear the tinkle of bells, the lowing and\nstamping of cattle, and the voices of herdsmen, for he knew the cows\nhad already left the high pastures. Entering the hut, he was further\namazed to see four queer, wizened-looking men, whose thumb and first\nand second fingers were missing. Besides, one of these men was lame,\nthe second hunchbacked, the third had but one eye, and the fourth was\napparently a leper.\n\nThese men signed to him to take a seat near the fire, where they were\nbusy making green cheese, of which, however, they had already a large\nstore in the hut.\n\nThe hunchback herdsman offered the guest bread and meat which looked\nso unpalatable that the hunter took but one mouthful and set the food\naside, muttering that they must have forgotten the salt when preparing\nit. This remark so incensed his hosts that they began to gnash their\nteeth, and came toward him making such threatening gestures that in\nsudden terror the hunter made a sign of the cross. At that moment\nherdsmen, cheese, cows, and fire vanished, and the chamois-hunter found\nhimself alone in the deserted hut.\n\nBut when he told his night adventure at home, he learned that a small\npiece of meat had been cut out of the left hind quarter of his best\ncow. One of the oldest inhabitants of the village, moreover, informed\nhim that the men whom he had seen were wicked herdsmen, who had\nneglected their duties while in the flesh, and had besides been guilty\nof perjury. In punishment for their wickedness, they had not only lost\nthe three fingers upheld in taking an oath, but were condemned to atone\nfor past laziness by working hard every night.\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF NEUCH\u00c2TEL\n\n\nA younger son of one the Counts of Neuch\u00e2tel, wishing to found a family\nof his own, went to settle in 1155 in the picturesque Val de Ruz in\nthe Jura mountains. Here he selected a tall and jagged rock, washed by\nthe Seyon, as the site of his new stronghold, the Castle of Vallangin.\nOwing to its position, it was almost impregnable; but it was a very\ndismal abode, for the heights of Chaumont at the south overshadowed it,\ncutting off much sunlight, while the dense pine forests around it did\nnot tend to lessen the gloom.\n\nThe Val de Ruz was so fertile, however, that the lords of Vallangin\nsoon grew rich and powerful, ruling wisely over the many peasants\nwho came to settle there under their protection. At the end of the\nthirteenth century their vassals already numbered many thousands, and\nincluded all classes of society.\n\nRollin, lord of Vallangin, was but sixteen years of age, when two\nof his most powerful vassals renounced their allegiance to him and\nprepared to despoil him of his property. With that end in view, they\narmed their retainers and sallied forth to attack their young master.\nThe friends of the latter, however, getting wind of this plot, hastily\nassembled the noblemen, clergy, and peasants who were still faithful\nto their lord, and consulting with them took active measures to meet\nand conquer the foe. Young Rollin himself, supported by the lords of\nNeuch\u00e2tel, of Colombiers, and of Vauxtravers, set out at the head of\nhis army, and meeting the two faithless lords on the plain of Coffrane,\ndefeated their forces in pitched battle, and secured the persons of the\nrecreant vassals.\n\nMany men perished on both sides in this encounter; and hundreds of\nyears later, a staff of command lost in this battle was ploughed up by\na farmer and placed in the Museum of Neuch\u00e2tel, where it is carefully\npreserved as a relic of the fight.\n\nRollin, having seized the faithless vassals, had them brought before\nhim, and sternly informed them that in his anger at hearing of their\ntreachery, he had vowed nothing short of two heads would ever satisfy\nhim. At these words the guilty lords trembled and grew pale, for they\nfelt their last hour was near. Their despair was such that when Rollin\nbade them reveal the place where they had concealed their treasures,\nthey offered no resistance, but meekly obeyed. Before long, therefore,\ntwo huge heaps of silver lay at Rollin\u2019s feet. He gazed at them a few\nmoments in silence, then addressed the culprits, saying:\n\n\u201cI swore I would have two heads, and this solemn vow cannot be\nrecalled. But, as I have never yet sentenced a guilty man to death, I\nam loath to shed your blood. I will therefore spare you, on condition\nthat two silver heads be cast from this metal, to take the place of\nthose which you have forfeited, but which I allow you to retain. You\nshall also recover your freedom and go home in peace, but I hereby warn\nyou that should you ever prove faithless again it will be bloody and\nnot bloodless heads which I will claim!\u201d\n\nThe delinquent lords, happy to escape their death sentence, solemnly\npresented two heavy silver heads to the young lord of Vallangin. These\nwere placed by his order on the high altar of the collegiate church\nat Neuch\u00e2tel, where they remained until the days of the Reformation,\nwhen an ignorant iconoclast, deeming them idols, removed them from the\naltar. Since then no trace of the silver busts has been seen.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nEARLY in the fourteenth century, some of the vassals of the lord of\nVallangin went to settle in the lovely valleys of the Jura Mountains,\nwhere, joined by a few families from Burgundy, they founded Le Locle\nand La Chaux-de-Fonds. These two colonies speedily increased in numbers\nand wealth, and the towns thus founded are now important centres for\nthe manufacture of watches and jewelry.\n\nMany of the people of the Canton of Neuch\u00e2tel having turned Protestant,\nWilhelmine of Bergy, grandmother of one of the lords of Vallangin, a\nstanch Catholic, sadly forsook the castle which she had entered as\na happy young bride, to go and live like a hermit in the village of\nGezard, which was her dowry.\n\nThis lady, already eighty years of age, was lamed by gout and quite\nfeeble, but she nevertheless took great interest in the peasants around\nher, whom she often visited and frequently helped by her good advice.\n\nOne day, sitting among the women of the village who were diligently\nspinning, she heard them comment bitterly upon their sad lot, saying it\nwas very hard that among all the fields they tilled, there was not a\nsingle acre which they could call their very own and which was entirely\nfree from taxation.\n\nEmboldened by the kindly interest the old lady showed in their remarks,\nthey finally ventured to beg her to give them part of her land, to\nhave and to hold without being asked for tithes or rent in exchange.\nWilhelmine, who could not dispose of the land otherwise, then said:\n\n\u201cMy good women, your request shall be granted. You shall have one half\nof the land which I can walk around in one day.\u201d Saying these words,\nthe old lady painfully rose from her seat, and tottered slowly back to\nher humble dwelling.\n\nThe peasant women, whose hearts had swelled with joy at her first\nwords, but whose hopes had been shattered by the conclusion of her\nspeech, sadly watched her limp out of sight, and then murmured\nregretfully,--\n\n\u201cThe poor mistress is so old and weak, that with the best intentions in\nthe world, she will hardly be able to creep around a single acre!\u201d\n\nEarly the next morning, while darkness yet veiled the landscape, and\nthe nightingale\u2019s song still pulsated in the quiet air, Wilhelmine of\nBergy painfully rose from her couch, and set out on her self-appointed\njourney, supported on one side by a trusty staff and on the other by a\nstrong young servant maid.\n\nThe two women slowly crept out into the darkness, and wandering along\nthe dewy meadows saw the night gradually make way before the first\ngleams of silvery light. Then they beheld the mountain tops change from\nblue to silver gray, then turn dazzling white, and suddenly blush and\nglow beneath the first rays of the rising sun.\n\nThe larks rose straight up into the blue, singing their triumphant\nmorning hymn; the bees and butterflies hovered around them, but all the\nlovely sights and sounds of early morn could not beguile the old lady\nto take even a moment\u2019s rest, and she hobbled bravely on. The peasants,\nrising from their hard beds to partake of frugal fare before beginning\na long day\u2019s work, stared in speechless amazement at their aged\nmistress, already well on her way, and gazed anxiously at the feeble\nform, wondering how long her strength and energy would last.\n\nAll through the bright morning hours, Wilhelmine plodded on without\na pause; and it was only when the sun stood directly overhead, that\nshe stopped for a moment under a tree to partake of food and of\nstrengthening drink. Then, while the peasants stretched out in the cool\nshade to enjoy their midday rest, the old lady again stepped out into\nthe quivering sunshine to continue her task. All through the glowing\nheat of afternoon, and long after the sun had set and the shades of\nevening had fallen, Wilhelmine crept on with faltering steps and ebbing\nstrength, but with undiminished energy and determination. Darkness\nhad long set in when she finally reached the village once more, and\nentering a hut where burned a small rushlight, and where the people had\nassembled by her order, she cried in weak but joyful accents,--\n\n\u201cMy children, I have walked around a thousand acres! Five hundred of\nthese belong to you, free from all taxes from this time forth. Do not\nblame me if your share is somewhat small, for I have done all I could\nto help you, but alas! although my spirit is willing, my aged feet\ncould carry me no farther.\u201d\n\nHaving said these words, old Wilhelmine tottered back to her own house,\nwhere she lay down so exhausted that she never found the strength to\nrise from her bed again. But the people whom she had benefited never\nceased to be grateful to her; and when she died, in 1543, six years\nafter this wonderful walk, they mournfully followed her to her last\nresting-place, shedding abundant tears while softly reminding each\nother of the many steps taken in their behalf by her weary old feet.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nUNTIL the end of the eighteenth century, the city of Neuch\u00e2tel\nboasted a ghost whose apparition was the invariable precursor of\na conflagration in town. Shortly before any signs of fire were\nperceptible, this spectral old woman passed swiftly along the streets,\nfrantically wringing a cloth all dripping with blood until she vanished\nin a lurid mist in the direction of the lake.\n\nNo one now living remembers ever having seen this ghost, but old people\nin Neuch\u00e2tel solemnly aver that the woman was frequently seen by their\nancestors, and that a fire always broke out shortly after her visit.\nThey add that the ghost was the unfortunate widow of Walter, Count of\nRochefort, publicly accused of forgery, and beheaded, in 1412, on the\nshores of the lake, on the very spot where the wraith always melted\naway in a crimson cloud. It is said that the Count\u2019s widow, having\nsecured his blood-stained shirt, constantly exhibited it to her sons,\nurging them to avenge their father, who, according to her assertions,\nhad been wrongfully accused, and condemned without sufficient proof of\nguilt.\n\nThe implacable widow finally prevailed upon these young men to take\na fearful revenge by secretly setting fire to the city; and it is a\nfact that Neuch\u00e2tel was almost destroyed by what is known as the great\nconflagration of 1450. Since then, either through remorse or to parade\nher spite, the old woman\u2019s spectre heralded every conflagration, until,\nweary of destruction, or frightened away by effective modern methods\nof fighting fires, she ceased to haunt the city and frighten the\ninhabitants.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nD. J. RICHARD started the manufacture of watches in Le Locle and La\nChaux-de-Fonds, but the principal legend relating to that industry\nrefers to Jacques Droz, the clever inventor of mechanical clocks, of\nmusic boxes, and of a writing automaton.\n\nWe are told that in the eighteenth century, the King of Spain once\ncame to La Chaux-de-Fonds, and having heard of Jacques Droz\u2019s clever\ncontrivances, went with his suite to visit the inventor\u2019s workshop.\nThere the King examined everything, and was particularly charmed by\na clock upon which stood figures of a negro, a shepherd, and a dog.\nWhenever the clock struck, the shepherd played a soft air upon his\npipe, while his dog frisked joyfully around him.\n\nThis artistic contrivance so delighted both King and courtiers, that\none and all loudly expressed their wonder and admiration. Jacques Droz\nlistened quietly to their exclamations, then turning to the King, he\nsmilingly informed him that the tiny dog was the faithful guardian of\nhis master\u2019s property, as could readily be seen if any one attempted to\nlay hands upon the apples in a basket at the shepherd\u2019s feet.\n\nThe King, wishing to test the dog\u2019s watchfulness, now attempted to\nabstract an apple, but no sooner had he touched it than the mechanical\ndog began to bark with such fury that the royal pet hound, springing\nforward, answered him. The monarch, startled by this unexpected\ndevelopment, stepped back in amazement, while his suite fled, making\nrepeated signs of the cross. None of the Spanish grandees, with the\nexception of the minister of the navy, remained in the shop, so when\nthe King had recovered from his momentary fright, he laughingly bade\nthat official ask the negro what time it was, adding that after the\nwonders they had seen, it would not surprise him in the least to hear\nthe darky talk. The minister, therefore, politely inquired the time of\nday, but as the question was put in Spanish, he received no reply until\nJacques Droz suggested that he should repeat it in French, for the\nnegro understood no other tongue.\n\nThe minister therefore translated his question with a somewhat\nsceptical smile, but when the negro courteously answered: \u201cMessieurs,\nil est trois heures moins un quart!\u201d (\u201cGentlemen, it is a quarter of\nthree\u201d), he too bolted from the room in terror, crying that the clock\nmust be the work of the Evil One himself!\n\nThe legend claims that the King of Spain purchased this wonderful piece\nof mechanism, but we are told that Jacques Droz merely constructed\nmusical clocks for him. The Spaniards, however, were not the only ones\nwho fancied the watchmaker had made a pact with Satan, for his own\ncountrymen used to look askance at him, and frequently averred that he\nwas a sorcerer.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE watchmaking industry has long been the great source of gain in\nwestern Switzerland, and clocks and watches are shipped from there to\nall parts of the world. The valleys of Le Locle and La Chaux-de-Fonds\nbeing very near the frontier, watches and jewelry are constantly\nsmuggled into France over the mountain paths to avoid paying duty upon\nthem.\n\nIn the days of post chaises, this smuggling assumed such proportions\nthat the chief of the French police determined to make a special effort\nto check it. He therefore journeyed in person to Switzerland, and\nvisiting one of the largest manufactories, selected a case full of fine\nwatches. He then bargained with the manufacturer to pay for the goods\nonly on condition that they were delivered free from duty at a certain\naddress in Paris, and solicitously inquired whether the dealer thought\nhe could pass them across the boundary safely? The merchant smilingly\nanswered that the job presented no insurmountable difficulties, and\ntook leave of his customer, promising that the watches should reach\nParis as quickly as he did.\n\nThe chief of police, delighted with this answer, went back to the inn,\nwhere he gave orders to prepare for immediate departure. Seated in\nhis carriage and rolling rapidly homeward, he congratulated himself\nupon the clever way in which he had managed; for all the custom-house\nofficers had been duly warned to guard the frontier with special care,\nas a large number of watches were to be smuggled over within the next\ntwenty-four hours. Their zeal had further been stimulated by the\npromise of a large reward should they secure watches and lawbreaker,\nwhile speedy punishment was to be the lot of any man who allowed them\nto escape.\n\nAt the frontier, the chief of police made a short halt, and thrusting\nhis head out of the carriage window, again admonished the officer\nthere to be very vigilant. The latter, promptly recognising his\nsuperior, confidently answered that not a squirrel should cross the\nfrontier unseen, for all along the line were posted men eager to secure\nthe promised reward.\n\nSatisfied by this assurance, the chief of police now gave orders to\ndrive on, and journeyed straight to Paris, stopping on his way only\nlong enough to change horses or partake of hasty meals.\n\nWhen he entered his own house, although worn out by the long and\nfatiguing journey, his first question was whether a parcel had arrived\nfor him from Switzerland. His servants promptly denied having seen\nanything of the sort, so the chief of police threw himself down in an\narmchair, gleefully exclaiming: \u201cThen my men have managed to intercept\nit at the frontier, and we will make such an example of the smugglers\nthat none will venture to continue this business!\u201d\n\nHis satisfaction did not last long, however, for, upon entering his\nbedroom, he saw resting upon the top of the rest of his luggage a case,\nwhich, upon investigation, was found to contain the very watches he had\npurchased in Switzerland.\n\nIn his anger, the chief of police hotly inquired of his servants how\nthe parcel had come there; but none could give him any information,\nfurther than that it had probably been brought in without their notice\nby one of the men called to attend to his luggage.\n\nThe chief of police, angrier than ever, wrote scathing letters to all\nthe custom-house officers, who one and all declared they were ready\nto stake their lives and reputations that no one, except himself, had\ncrossed the frontier without being subjected to a thorough search.\n\nStill hoping to secure the man who had delivered the parcel in Paris,\nand of reaching the smugglers through him, the chief of police now sent\nfor his coachman, to ask him whether he had seen any one carry the case\nof watches into his house. To his amazement the coachman immediately\nreplied,--\n\n\u201cIndeed I did. I gave it to the man myself, and was very glad to see\nthe last of it, I can tell you!\u201d\n\nThis answer astounded his master, who, upon asking for an explanation,\nlearned that while the coachman was preparing the carriage for\ndeparture in the inn yard at La Chaux-de-Fonds, one of the waiters had\nsuddenly appeared with a box, saying his master wished him to stow\nit away under his seat and keep it safely out of sight of every one\nuntil they reached Paris. He added that the case contained articles\nof great value which the chief feared might else fall into the hands\nof highwaymen, who of course would not dream of looking under the\ncoachman\u2019s seat for anything but oats. Thus cautioned, the coachman\nhad carefully hidden the box away; but throughout the journey he had\nrefused to lose sight of the carriage for an instant, lest his master\u2019s\nsecret should be discovered, and his property stolen.\n\nOn receiving this explanation, the chief of police made a wry face,\nfor he now perceived how cleverly he had been outwitted by the\nwatchmaker. The latter, having discovered his customer\u2019s identity in\nsome mysterious way, had defeated his purpose by bribing one of the\ninn waiters to give the box to the coachman, thus making the chief of\npolice unconsciously smuggle his own goods across the frontier!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nANOTHER story runs that a Swiss naturalist often crossed the frontier\nat Pontarlier, where he was greatly annoyed by a cross and over-zealous\nFrench custom-house officer. The latter, for some inscrutable reason,\nhad conceived an intense dislike to the Swiss savant, whose luggage he\nalways examined with exaggerated care, although the naturalist was well\nknown as a man of unimpeachable integrity.\n\nExasperated by this rude treatment, the naturalist finally determined\nto give this disagreeable official a lesson which he would not be\nlikely to forget in a hurry. The next time he stopped at Pontarlier,\ntherefore, besides his usual baggage, he had a tightly closed box,\nwhich he handled with special care.\n\nIn answer to the customary question, he truthfully swore he had no\ndutiable goods with him, but the custom-house officer, who had singled\nhim out as his victim, gruffly demanded his keys and proceeded to turn\nhis trunk topsy turvy as usual. To his evident chagrin, not the tiniest\nobject upon which he could exact payment was forthcoming, but leaving\nthe owner to rearrange his tumbled garments as best he might, the\nofficer took up the box, shook it hard, and asked what it contained.\n\n\u201cNatural history specimens,\u201d quietly answered the naturalist.\n\nThis reply elicited a contemptuous snort from the officer, who declared\nsuch a statement must be verified. The naturalist then protested\nvehemently, swore it contained nothing contraband, and finally seeing\nthat he could not prevent the opening of the box, angrily cried,--\n\n\u201cVery well! Open the box if you choose, but don\u2019t blame me for the\nconsequences!\u201d and marched out of the office where the discussion had\ntaken place, slamming the door behind him with marked emphasis.\n\nLeft alone, the officer, armed with chisel and hammer, proceeded to\ntear off the cover of the box, out of which squirmed and tumbled a\nnumber of small snakes.\n\nWith a wild cry of terror, the custom-house officer rushed out of the\noffice, crying, \u201cSnakes, snakes!\u201d but as he was often tipsy, or \u201clost\nhis way in his master\u2019s vineyard,\u201d--as the local saying goes,--his\ncompanions would not believe him, and fancied he was the victim of a\ndelusion natural to a man of his intemperate habits.\n\nBut one of his comrades venturing boldly into the office to convince\nhim of his mistake, came out again precipitately, crying that snakes\nwere really crawling all over the floor! The naturalist now stepped\nforward, calmly offered to replace the reptiles--which were perfectly\nharmless--in their box, and added that he had warned the officer not to\ntamper with natural history specimens.\n\nAfter that, the custom-house officers at Pontarlier were particularly\ncareful how they handled this savant\u2019s luggage, and never again did\nthey venture to raise the cover of any box when he told them that it\ncontained materials for his collections.\n\n\n\n\nBERN\n\n\nThe little city of Erlach, or Cerlier, on the Lake of Bienne, is\nromantically situated at the foot of the Jolimont, on which stand\ngreat rocks known as the Devil\u2019s Burden. We are told that his Infernal\nHighness brought these stones hither to crush the Christians at the\nfoot of the mountain. But, turned aside by the hand of God, the blocks\nfell where they could do no damage, and now serve as picturesque\nfeatures in the landscape.\n\nThe castle of Erlach, founded in 1100 by a bishop of Basel, was\nentrusted to the care of a governor, or bailiff, who made ruthless\ndemands upon the time and strength of his master\u2019s vassals. No\nservant was ever strong and diligent enough to suit him; and when a\ntall foreigner came to offer his services, the bailiff, noting his\nwell-developed muscles, immediately said he would engage him provided\nhe could lift the huge rock which stood at the castle gate.\n\nPicking up the stone with the utmost ease, the newcomer tossed it up\nas if it were a mere pebble, although its weight was such that it sank\ndeep into the ground on the spot where it fell. This proof of strength\nfully satisfied the bailiff, who at first treated his new servant quite\nfairly. But as time went on, he exacted more and more, and once bade\nhim take four horses and bring back to the castle a load of wood which\ntwelve horses could not have drawn without great effort.\n\nThe muscular servant nevertheless set out undaunted to fulfil this\ntask, and finding one pair of horses inclined to balk, unharnessed\nthem, tied them to the tail of the cart, and taking their place, pulled\nso vigorously that the load safely reached the foot of the hill leading\nto the castle. There, however, the second pair of horses stopped short,\nand refused to advance another step. The servant quickly unharnessed\nthese, too, bound them on top of the wood, and single-handed drew wood,\nwagon, and horses up the hill, although the load was so heavy that the\ndeep ruts it made in the rock road can still be seen to this day.\n\nWhen the bailiff beheld this new and startling proof of great strength,\nhe was duly awed, and fearing the servant might prove troublesome\nsome day, determined to get rid of him. With that purpose in view,\nhe ordered a well dug, and when it was quite deep, made his men\nthrow a huge stone down upon the strong servant\u2019s head. To the\ngeneral surprise, this man tossed the stone up out of the well again,\nmuttering, \u201cDon\u2019t throw any more sand down into my eyes, or I\u2019ll get\nmad.\u201d\n\nBut looking up just then, he caught such an evil expression in the\nbailiff\u2019s eyes that he was seized with a sudden fit of blind rage.\nScrambling out of the hole, he pursued the conscience-stricken bailiff\ninto the castle; and as neither man nor master were ever seen again,\npeople suppose that the strong servant must have been an emissary of\nSatan, sent to carry their cruel master off to Hades, to receive due\npunishment for all his crimes.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nON the way from Basel to Bern, the train passes through a long tunnel\npiercing a hill upon which stand the ruins of Castle Grimmenstein. This\nwas once the home of so enthusiastic a hunter, that he even broke the\nSabbath to indulge in his favourite sport. His wife, a gentle and pious\nsoul, once vainly besought him not to desecrate a particularly holy day\nof rest, but he nevertheless sallied forth, and after a long search\ncame across a doe with its young.\n\nAlthough this gentle animal bravely tried to defend her offspring, the\ncruel hunter slew them all one after another. But, just as the doe\nbreathed her last, a giant sprang out of the ground, shook his fist\nvehemently at the Sabbath-breaker, and exclaiming that the harmless\nanimals were already avenged, vanished with them underground!\n\nThe lord of Grimmenstein, awed in spite of himself by these mysterious\nwords and by the sudden disappearance of the quarry he had slain, gave\nup all thought of further hunting for that day and rode slowly home.\nBut when he entered his wife\u2019s apartment, he found her and his children\ndying from the very wounds he had inflicted upon the gentle doe and her\nyoung.\n\nEver since then, when war or pestilence threaten the land, the lord\nof Grimmenstein rises from his grave, blows a resonant blast upon his\nhunting-horn, and again sets out to range through woods and valleys in\nquest of game.\n\n[Illustration: THE WILD HUNT.]\n\nBesides this hunter and Sabbath-breaker, almost every valley and\nhillside in Switzerland is said to be visited at times by some similar\nwraith, sweeping by on the wings of the wind. But the apparition which\nmakes the most noise and causes most damage is undoubtedly that of\nOdin, the Wild Huntsman himself, who often rushes through the land with\nall his ghostly train of heathen deities.[2]\n\n      [2] See the author\u2019s \u201cMyths of Northern Lands.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAFTER passing through the Wynigen tunnel, the train soon comes to\nBurgdorf, an ancient and picturesque little city, with an old castle in\nwhich Pestalozzi established a school toward the end of the eighteenth\ncentury.\n\nTradition relates that dense forests once covered all this region,\nwhich was infested by wild beasts of all kinds, not omitting an\nimmense, fire-breathing dragon, which had its abode in a cave in the\nhill on which Burgdorf castle now stands.\n\nSintram and Baltram, the two sons of the Duke of Lenzburg, once\npenetrated into this wilderness in pursuit of game, and discovering the\ntrail of this dragon, resolved to track him into his lair and rid the\ncountry of such a pest. But when they drew near the mouth of the cave,\nthe dragon suddenly darted forth, and seizing Baltram, swallowed him at\none gulp! At this sight Sintram boldly dismounted, drew his sword, and\nattacked the monster with such fury that he finally laid him low. Then,\nslitting him open, he had the good fortune to find his brother still\nalive and quite unharmed, thanks to the strong armour he wore.\n\nThe brothers were so proud of their victory over the monster, and so\ngrateful for their miraculous escape from its teeth and claws, that\nthey built a chapel on this spot, dedicating it to St. Margaret,\nbecause she too once met and defeated a dragon. In this chapel they\nplaced a picture representing their fight with the Burgdorf monster,\nand as they soon founded the town and castle, their name and fame still\nendures in that section of the country.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN the twelfth century, Burgdorf was the home of Berthold V. of\nZ\u00e4hringen, who conquered and brought into subjection the various\nnobles in the Bernese Oberland. He built Fribourg on his own land, and\nfounded a new city on a rocky height almost entirely surrounded by the\nAare. History claims that he called this town Bern, in honour of his\nfavourite hero and ancestor, Dietrich of Bern (Verona).[3] But legend\nstates that, not knowing what name to bestow upon the new city, he\ndecided to call it after the first animal he slew in the chase.\n\n      [3] See the author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the Middle Ages.\u201d\n\nSallying forth one day, he met and slew some bears (_B\u00e4ren_), and\ntherefore called the city Bern. It is because the city is popularly\nsupposed to have thus obtained its name, that there is a bear in its\nshield, and that these animals are conspicuous there in every form.\nThe most famous and imposing bears in Bern are the stone effigies\nwhich long stood on either side of the city gates, and which now\nguard the entrance to the Historical Museum; but the most amusing are\nundoubtedly the live bears kept in a special pit.\n\nAccording to some authorities these animals are the descendants of a\ncub which the Duke of Z\u00e4hringen brought back from his memorable hunting\nexpedition; according to others of a pair given to the town by Ren\u00e9,\nDuke of Lorraine. Besides, you may also hear it stated that a Swiss\nsoldier brought home a couple of cubs as trophy after the battle of\nNovarre, in 1513, which were preserved in the city. In 1798, General\nBrune carried off the Bern bears to the Jardin des Plantes in Paris,\nand the present bruins are also said to have descended from those or\nfrom a pair imported from Russia.\n\nThe city of Bern was laid out for the Duke by his henchman von\nBubenberg, who, foreseeing its importance, made it twice as large as\nhe was told. The Duke in wrath then demanded what he meant by this\ndisobedience, but von Bubenberg soon proved that he was right, for so\nmany settlers poured into the new place that only a narrow space could\nbe allotted for each house. All the buildings were made from the wood\ngrowing within the new city limits, which gave rise to the distich,--\n\n     \u201cHolz, lass\u2019 dich hauen gern,\n      Die Stadt muss heissen Bern.\u201d\n      (Wood, let yourself be felled readily,\n      The city must be called Bern.)\n\nBern became independent soon after its foundation, bravely withstood\ntwo sieges made by the redoubtable Rudolf von Hapsburg, and some time\nafter defeating the Burgundian forces at Laupen, in 1339, joined the\nSwiss Confederation, of which it is now the head.\n\nIn the middle of the fifteenth century, the citizens began the\nconstruction of the beautiful cathedral, which, owing to lack of\nfunds, remained incomplete for centuries and has only recently been\ncrowned by its wonderful spire. In front of this building now stands\nthe equestrian statue of Rudolph von Erlach, the hero of Laupen; but\nhere, too, once stood a large wooden statue of St. Christopher. It was\nplaced there after a silver communion service had been stolen from the\ncathedral, for the people believed that the giant saint would mount\nfaithful guard over ecclesiastical property. But when in spite of his\npresence there, the communion service again fell a prey to thieves,\ngreat indignation was felt in town.\n\nTo punish St. Christopher for his lack of vigilance, he was banished\nto a niche in a tower bearing his name, where, as a further mark of\ndisgrace, and because he stood directly opposite the fountain of\nDavid, he was dubbed Goliath. At that time a tradition was current\nin Bern that when St. Christopher _heard_ the town clock strike the\nnoon hour, he invariably rained _weckli_ (local rolls) down upon the\npeople. To fix this saying in the minds of a younger generation, a\nlady of the town ordered a large number of _weckli_ cast down upon\nthe waiting school children at the stroke of twelve, one day before\nthe tower was razed and the statue removed. The benevolent woman who\nplayed this innocent trick upon the delighted little ones, celebrated\nher one-hundredth birthday at Bern, in 1897, when the cathedral chimes\npealed forth at noon a gay carillon in her honour.\n\nWhen the quaint Christopher tower was torn down, in the middle of the\nnineteenth century, the head of the gaudily coloured statue of the\nsaint was removed to the city Museum, where it now forms part of a\ncollection of local antiquities.\n\nSouth of the Cathedral, and extending all along one side of the\nbuilding, is a beautiful broad terrace, commanding a marvellous view of\nthe whole range of the Bernese Alps. On this shady place stands a fine\nstatue of the founder of the city, with Bruin as his shield-bearer.\nAt the edge of the terrace, set deep in the wall, is a tablet\ncommemorating the miraculous escape of a student, whose frightened\nhorse vaulted over the parapet in 1654. Theobald Weinz\u00e4pfli, for such\nwas the student\u2019s name, not only survived the fall which killed his\nsteed, but became pastor of Kerzerz, where he died forty years later.\n\nFrom the terrace, besides the matchless background of glaciers, there\nis a fine view of the pyramidal Niesen, darkly outlined against them,\nand of the winding Aare, which passes through the Lake of Brienz and\nthat of Thun at the foot of this mountain. At one end of the Lake of\nThun, where the Aare has its outlet, and less than an hour\u2019s railway\njourney from Bern, stands the picturesque little city of Thun, with\nits ancient castle. At the other extremity, on a narrow strip of land\nbetween the two lakes, rises Interlaken, the goal of all Swiss tourists.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLEGEND claims that in the days when St. Peter was preaching in Rome,\nhe converted there an English traveller, who received in baptism\nthe name of Beatus. Longing to publish the good tidings he had\nreceived, this pious man set out from Rome, and preaching as he went,\nfinally came to the shores of the Lake of Thun. There he found a large\npopulation of thrifty people still devoted to the Scandinavian religion\npractised by their ancestors.\n\n[Illustration: THE OLD ST. CHRISTOPHER TOWER.]\n\nThe spot was so lovely, and the task awaiting him so urgent, that\nBeatus resolved to make a prolonged sojourn; but he was so busy caring\nfor souls that he had no time to build himself a hut. He therefore\ndetermined to take up his abode in some cave, and searching for one\nwhich might answer his purpose, climbed the mountain on the north side\nof the lake. Far up the slope, he descried a large cavern, which he was\nabout to enter. But he suddenly found himself face to face with a huge\ndragon, whose eyes were as big and round as cart-wheels, whose claws\nwere as long and as hard as grappling-hooks, and whose long, tapering\nbody and tail were covered with scales so thick that no weapon could\npierce them! This monster lashed its tail, opened wide its capacious\njaws, and spat forth such a torrent of fire and smoke that Beatus\nthought his last hour had surely come. Alone and unarmed, resistance\nwas impossible, and as flight would have been equally vain, Beatus\ncommended his soul to God and made a hasty sign of the cross.\n\nAt the same moment the monster crept back into its den with a cry of\nrage and terror; and Beatus, perceiving that it had quailed at the\nsign of the cross, immediately determined to use so potent a weapon to\nrid the country of this emissary of Satan. He therefore took up his\npost at the mouth of the Beatush\u00f6hle, where he mounted guard night\nand day, fasting and praying persistently. The presence of this holy\nman, the constant sound of fervent supplication, and the sight of the\nawe-inspiring sign of the cross every time it moved, so worked upon the\ndragon\u2019s nerves, that it exploded on the eighth day, and vanished in a\ncloud of stinking smoke.\n\nThe Evil One having thus departed, Beatus took possession of the cave,\nwhich he fitted out to serve as a hermitage. From one of the trees on\nthe bank of the lake, he fashioned a rude skiff, in which he rowed from\npoint to point along the shore, often preaching from his boat as his\nMaster had done on the Sea of Galilee.\n\nBy the blessing of God, Beatus\u2019 words bore rich fruit, and conversions\nbecame so numerous that Satan was alarmed, and determined to make\nanother attempt to kill or drive away the zealous missionary. He\ntherefore stirred up fearful storms every time Beatus left his cave,\ncaused brooks to swell and overflow whenever he tried to cross them,\nrolled rocks down the mountain to obstruct his pathway, and after many\nvain trials, succeeded in breaking his oars and making his poor skiff\nalmost useless.\n\nOne day, when Beatus came down to the lakeside, he perceived that the\nwaves rose to such a height that it would be impossible for him to\ncross the lake to officiate at Einigen as he had promised. Loath to\ndisappoint the faithful anxiously awaiting him, Beatus spread out his\ncloak upon the bank and sat down upon it, hoping that the storm stirred\nup by the Evil One would soon abate sufficiently to enable him to cross\nwithout imminent danger.\n\nWhile sitting there, inwardly praying, a gust of wind suddenly stole\nunder his outspread cloak; and a moment later Beatus found himself\nsoaring through the air, high over the tossing lake, and was soon\ngently deposited on the greensward near the little church. The people\nwelcomed him gladly, listened to his teachings, and practised the\nChristian virtues so diligently that the place where they assembled for\nworship was soon known far and wide as Paradise.\n\nThe concourse of people there became daily greater, and as Beatus was\noften busy elsewhere, he bade his disciple Justus take charge of the\nservices whenever he failed to appear at the appointed time. Now, it\nseems that while Beatus himself was very eloquent, his disciple was\nextremely prosy and long-winded; and Satan, perceiving this, determined\nto claim, on the judgment day, the souls of all those who slept through\nthe sermon and thus missed the final benediction. He therefore entered\nthe little church at Einigen one Easter morning, seated himself\ndirectly under the pulpit, and spreading out a ram-skin on his lap,\nprepared to take down the names of all who dozed during the service.\nAlthough Beatus was expected to preach on that day, and an unusually\nlarge congregation was present, he had not yet appeared when the little\nbell ceased ringing; so Justus mounted the pulpit and began to expound\nthe Scriptures in his stead.\n\nThe place was overcrowded, the weather quite warm; and as the worthy\nman\u2019s teachings were even more uninteresting than usual, one auditor\nafter another nodded and slept. Beatus, who had been detained by a work\nof mercy, slipped unperceived into the church shortly after the sermon\nhad begun, and seating himself modestly in a corner, lent a reverent\nand attentive ear to his colleague\u2019s halting discourse.\n\nLooking up, however, he suddenly became aware of the fact that the\nwhole congregation was fast asleep, and that the Evil One was jotting\ndown their names with fiendish glee. While Beatus was hesitating\nwhether to be guilty of the sin of disturbing divine service by making\na noise which would wake the imprudent sleepers, or whether he should\nleave their souls in such a dangerous predicament without making an\neffort to save them, he perceived that the Devil had almost reached the\nbottom of his ram-skin, and had not space enough left to inscribe all\nthe remaining names.\n\nAt that very moment the Devil became aware of the selfsame fact, but,\nnotoriously quick at devising expedients, he immediately seized the\nskin between his teeth, and began tugging at it with all his might so\nas to stretch it sufficiently to serve his purpose. In his haste he\ngave a jerk which, tearing the skin, threw his head backward, hitting\nthe pulpit such a resonant bang that every man, woman, and child in the\ncongregation awoke with a start.\n\nBeatus, the only one who had seen the accident, disgraced himself by\nlaughing aloud; and the Devil, perceiving he had defeated his own ends,\nflounced angrily out of the church, and vanished with a yell, while the\npeople sank on their knees and frantically prayed to be forgiven for\nyielding to fatigue.\n\nBeatus, we are told, was duly punished for laughing in church, for\nwhen he again spread out his mantle, expecting to be wafted across the\nlake, as usual, it remained stationary, and although he ultimately died\nin the odour of sanctity and was duly canonised, he ever after had to\nresort to ordinary means of transportation. The cave in which Beatus\ndwelt on the Beatenberg, and which still bears his name, has been\nuninhabitable since his day. From its mouth now pours forth a noisy\nstream during the spring months, and after heavy falls of rain.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMANY steamboats daily furrow the lake over which St. Beatus was wont to\nfly on his mantle; and after passing the romantic town of Oberhofen,\ndirectly opposite Einigen, where Justus preached, they come to Spiez,\nwhere stands a tower of the old castle of Str\u00e4ttlingen. A lord of that\nname is said to have been suddenly converted, while out hunting, by the\nsight of a stag bearing a luminous crucifix between its wide antlers.\nDuring the Christian persecutions under Hadrian, this Str\u00e4ttlingen took\nrefuge in Burgundy, where he greatly distinguished himself during a\nquarrel with France.\n\nIt seems that the two kings had decided that their difference should\nbe settled by a duel between champions of their selection. The king of\nFrance, however, produced a giant so strong that no Burgundian dared\nmeet him; and when Str\u00e4ttlingen volunteered to fight, the king of\nBurgundy was duly grateful.\n\nReaching the lists before his antagonist, Str\u00e4ttlingen sat down to\nawait his coming, which he dreaded so little that he quietly fell\nasleep. When the giant came, he gazed in angry astonishment at a rival\nsnoring as peacefully five minutes before the redoubtable encounter\nas if he were merely taking a nap before dinner. Convinced that some\nmiracle lay behind this marvellous composure, the giant gazed at his\nfoe more closely still, and declared himself ready to acknowledge his\ndefeat without striking a blow, because the Archangel Michael stood\nbeside the sleeping champion, ready to battle for him.\n\nIn reward for the great victory thus won in his sleep, the Burgundian\nking gave Str\u00e4ttlingen his daughter\u2019s hand in marriage, a large estate\non the Lake of Thun, and great treasures. Part of this wealth was\nemployed by Str\u00e4ttlingen in erecting the castle which still bears his\nname, and which long remained in the possession of his family. One of\nhis descendants, Wernhardt von Str\u00e4ttlingen, was known far and wide for\nhis great charity, and when a shivering pilgrim knocked at his gate one\ncold winter morning, he unhesitatingly bestowed upon him a brand-new\ncloak and bade him enter and spend the night in the castle.\n\nWhen morning came, pilgrim and cloak had vanished, and the lady of\nStr\u00e4ttlingen, who was very economical and far less charitable than\nher spouse, reproached him bitterly for wasting such a good cloak\nupon an ungrateful scamp. Although her scolding was vehement and oft\nrenewed, the husband bore it patiently, and when about to set out on\na pilgrimage, parted amicably with her, giving her half his ring and\ntelling her she might marry again at the end of five years, if in the\nmeantime he did not return to claim her by producing the other half of\nthe circlet.\n\nThis arrangement made, Str\u00e4ttlingen set out for Garganum, where he\nhad heard that St. Michael, his patron saint, had recently alighted.\nArriving there, he had a vision of St. Michael himself, who gave him\nhis blessing. But on the way home, Str\u00e4ttlingen was cast into a prison\nin Lombardy, where he languished four whole years. Throughout this long\ncaptivity Str\u00e4ttlingen\u2019s faith never wavered; and when came the time\nset for his wife\u2019s remarriage should he not return, he fervently prayed\nthat she might be preserved from bigamy.\n\nAt that moment the pilgrim appeared in his cell, wrapped in the mantle\nhe had given him, and humbly confessed that he was a demon sent to\nStr\u00e4ttlingen to entrap him into a reckless act of charity, in hopes\nthat the scolding his wife was sure to administer would cause him to\nsin. The demon next went on to explain that he was now sent by St.\nMichael to convey him home. Then he proceeded to carry out the orders\nhe had received from the archangel, and did it so skilfully that a\nfew minutes later the lord of Str\u00e4ttlingen stood at his castle gate,\nwrapped in the cloak he had given the pilgrim five years before.\n\nReturning thus unexpectedly and unrecognised, Str\u00e4ttlingen perceived\nthat wedding preparations were even then being made. Amid the throng\nof guests, he stepped up to the table unseen and dropped his half of\nthe ring into his wife\u2019s cup. When she raised it to her lips to drink,\nshe found this pledge, and looking eagerly around her, recognised\nher husband in his pilgrim\u2019s garb and fell upon his neck. Instead of\na wedding feast, a banquet of reunion was now held in the great hall\nat Str\u00e4ttlingen, and as thank-offering for his miraculous return, the\ncount built the church of St. Michael at Einigen.\n\nThis church was secretly dedicated by the archangel himself, who\ngraciously made that fact known to the noble builder. The latter is\nsaid to have founded a dozen other churches in the neighbourhood,\nbesides one large monastery. After a time, however, he began to pride\nhimself upon his piety and great gifts to the church, and in punishment\nfor this sin, fell desperately ill.\n\nDuring this illness he saw the archangels Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel\nwrestling with the Devil for the possession of his soul. But they\nfinally agreed to decide the matter in a strictly impartial way by\nweighing Str\u00e4ttlingen\u2019s good and bad deeds in opposite scales. Held by\none saint and filled by another and by the Devil, the scales wavered\nfor a moment. Then the one containing the virtues seemed inclined to\nkick the beam, until St. Michael rested his hand heavily upon it.\nSeeing this, the Devil slyly clung to the bottom of the scale in which\nhe was specially interested. But his black and claw-like fingers\nappearing over the edge of the scale, betrayed his stratagem to St.\nMichael, who, drawing his sword, drove him away.\n\nThis curious legend is illustrated by a painting which long graced\nthe church in Lauterbrunnen, and the various legends told above are\ncarefully preserved in the curious chronicle of the church at Einigen.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOPPOSITE Spiez, at the foot of the Ralligenstock, and near the\npresent town of Ralligen, there was once a village named Roll, whose\ninhabitants were noted all along the lake shore for their selfishness\nand pride.\n\nOne night when the wind was blowing very hard and after it had rained\npersistently for several days, a little dwarf came into the village,\nand knocking at every door humbly begged for shelter. All rudely\nrefused to receive him, except an aged couple living at the end of the\nvillage. They bade him enter, gave him the best food that they had in\nthe house, and would gladly have let him sleep in their own bed, had\nhe only been willing to tarry with them over night. But the dwarf told\nthem he still had much to do, and bidding them farewell, ran through\nthe place again, crying that it would soon disappear.\n\nBefore morning a terrible storm broke, the lightning struck the top\nof the Ralligenstock, and all at once the awestruck people heard the\nrumbling sound of a great landslide. Peering hastily out of their\nwindow, the charitable couple saw their little guest gliding rapidly\ndown the mountain side on a huge rock, which he seemed to steer like a\nsled. Guiding this rock close to their hut, he brought it to a sudden\nstandstill there, making it serve as a bulwark for the tiny house where\nhe had been so hospitably entertained. The rest of the earth and stones\nswept all the other houses and inhabitants of Roll into the lake, in\npunishment for their pride and lack of hospitality. But we are told\nthat the little cabin so miraculously spared, stood on the very site of\nthe present castle of Ralligen.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nON the same side of the Lake of Thun, and not very far from Ralligen,\nis the charmingly situated town of Merligen. According to somewhat\nmalicious legends, the people there were none too intelligent. They\nonce built a beautiful City Hall, but discovered only too late that\nthey had forgotten to provide any windows, and that it was pitch dark\ninside. As it was impossible to transact business in utter obscurity,\nthe city council immediately declared light must be brought in without\ndelay, and bade each of the councillors procure a bagful. All therefore\nbetook themselves in a body to a sunny meadow, opened wide their sacks,\nand when they saw them full of sunlight, closed them tight and bore\nthem off to the City Hall. But although one bagful after another of\ngolden sunshine was carried in there, and all were opened at once, the\nhall, to their great surprise and disappointment, remained as dark as\never.\n\nThere once stood a nut tree close by the lake at Merligen. It bent\nso far over the water that the people fancied the topmost branches\nwanted a drink, so they determined to help it reach the water. The\nchief magistrate climbed the tree, and seizing the highest bough, bade\nanother citizen catch hold of his legs. This done, a third clung to\nthe second, and continuing thus the people formed a living chain which\nreached down into the lake. The last man now cried,--\n\n\u201cAre you all ready? Shall we pull?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d cried the chief magistrate, \u201cwait a minute; I want to spit in my\nhands!\u201d\n\nSaying this, he suddenly let go, and the whole chain of men splashed\ninto the lake, where they were drowned!\n\nAt the end of the eighteenth century, after the French had carried\noff the treasure of Bern to meet the expenses of the Egyptian war, the\nother cities decided it might be well to hide or bury their valuables,\nlest they too should fall into their enemies\u2019 hands. The people of\nMerligen therefore put all their treasures on board a boat, rowed out\nto the middle of the lake, and sank them in the deepest spot. To make\nsure, however, that they would be able to find again the exact spot\nwhere the valuables were lying, they carefully drew a heavy mark on\ntheir boat directly above the sunken treasure. Unfortunately, this\nstreak did not remain on the spot where the treasure was hidden, but\nto the dismay of the people accompanied them back to Merligen; and it\nis said no one has ever yet been able to locate these valuables, whose\nloss is still mourned.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE strip of land between the lakes of Thun and Brienz is watered by\nthe Aare, which, flowing through both these bodies of water, also\nserves as a connecting link between them. Interlaken, as its name\nindicates, is situated between the two lakes.\n\nFrom the steamboats on the Lake of Brienz, one can see the wooded\nslopes and charming village of Iseltwald. Here, we are told, you often\nhear sounds such as might be produced by a huge \u00c6olian harp. Sometimes\nloud, sometimes low, the melancholy, ghost-like melody quivers softly\nthrough the summer air.\n\nTradition assures us that a huntsman of this region had his right arm\ndisabled by a stroke of lightning; so, taking up his hunting horn, he\nwandered from place to place, playing wonderful tunes for a living.\nHis admiring auditors rewarded him for his music by small gifts, and\nall delighted in his constant tunes. Early in the morning, when the\nfirst lark rose to the sky, the stirring notes of \u201cAwake, my heart, and\nsing!\u201d roused the sleeping inhabitants; and far into the night gentle\nreveries lulled them to sleep. All day long the music played strong,\nbrisk, helpful accompaniments to their labours, and when a thief\nprowled about their huts at night, ready to seize their property, a\nsharp danger signal from the ever-ready horn pealed through the quiet\nair.\n\nEvery one loved the wandering huntsman,--no feast or funeral was\ncomplete without him, and wherever he went he invariably met with an\nenthusiastic welcome. The time came, however, when the poor man felt\nhis last hour was near; and seating himself near the edge of the lake\nhe played a melodious farewell to life, and to the land he loved.\nThen, addressing a lame beggar who had stolen up to listen to his\nmusic, he gave him all the money he had, on condition that he would\npromise to bury him in the Iseltwald.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d he added, \u201cbe sure to place my beloved hunting horn in my hand.\nIt has been my friend and comforter for many a year; and if the dead\ncan still feel and move, I shall be glad to beguile the dark and lonely\nhours spent in my grave. There I shall play soft tunes, until released\nby the peal of Gabriel\u2019s trump on the day of judgment, when I, too,\nshall arise to take part in the grand concert played before the throne\nof God.\u201d\n\nThe old huntsman had scarcely finished these words when he died; and\ntrue to his promise the beggar laid him to rest at the foot of a mighty\noak, with his beloved horn clasped tight in his dead hand. Since then,\nbelated boatmen have often heard a musical call guiding them safely\nhomeward; and the still summer air often pulsates with the sweet, weird\nmelody the huntsman softly plays to himself while waiting to join in\nthe grand Hallelujah Chorus on the judgment day.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAFTER leaving Iseltwald the steamers on the Lake of Brienz stop at the\nGiessbach, part of which famous falls can be seen from its deck, and\nthence run on to Brienz, where one can take the train to Meiringen and\nsee the beautiful Reichenbach.\n\n[Illustration: THE GIESSBACH.]\n\nNear the last-named town, on the way to the Hohenstollen, whence a\nmagnificent view is obtainable, one passes the Balisalp, of which the\nfollowing picturesque legend is told. A shepherd named Res used to tend\nhis cattle here; and after they were duly cared for every evening, he\nwas wont to take the huge funnel through which he poured his milk into\nhis pans, and reversing it, step out on a projecting ledge of rock to\ncall out a loving good-night to his sweetheart, who spent the summer\non the Seealp. Then, when it was too dark to see the place where she\nstood, he would quietly enter his hut, climb up into the loft, and\nlying down on his pallet, would sleep soundly until the next day, when\nhis first morning greeting was also shouted to the girl he loved.\n\nOne night the herdsman suddenly awoke, and hearing a crackling sound,\npeered down into the ch\u00e2let to see what it might be. To his surprise\nhe saw three strange-looking men sitting around a bright fire they\nhad kindled on his hearth, busy making cheese in a giant kettle. The\nlargest of the three kept stirring the milk, the next one brought more\nto add to it, while the third kept up a bright blaze by adding fuel to\nthe fire from time to time.\n\nWatching these men, the owner of the hut saw the cheesemaker pour a\nreddish fluid into the kettle. Then the second stepped to the door,\nand taking a huge horn, began to play a weird melody. Low at first,\nit gradually roused all the echoes, and had a magical effect, for all\nthe cows came running up to him and soon stood around in a circle as\nif to listen. This musical performance ended, the third man poured\nthe contents of the huge kettle into three vessels, and the watching\nherdsman noted with surprise that the liquid in each receptacle was of\na different hue.\n\nJust then, the tallest man looked up, and bade the herdsman come down\nand drink from any vessel he pleased,--explaining that if he partook of\nthe red liquid he would be as strong as a giant and receive one hundred\ncows; if he tasted of the green, he would have a large fortune; while\nif he chose the white, he would receive the magic horn and be able to\nplay the weird tune, which, as he had seen, would charm cows as well as\nmen.\n\nThe young dairyman had been so enraptured by the music he had heard,\nthat he unhesitatingly snatched the bowl containing the white liquid\nand took a deep draught. When he set it down again, his strange\nvisitors warmly congratulated him upon his selection, for had he\ndrunk out of either of the other vessels he would surely have died,\nand centuries would have elapsed before the Alphorn would again have\nbeen offered to mankind. This explanation given, the three strangers\nsuddenly vanished, leaving no trace of their presence save the Alphorn,\nwhich the young man put to his lips just as the first gleams of light\nappeared in the east. Then, to his delight, he found he could play as\nwell as the mysterious stranger.\n\nHe soon made a second horn just like the one he had received from his\nnight visitors, and taught his beloved to use it. They kept up a lively\nmusical intercourse all summer, although too far apart to hear each\nother\u2019s words. In the autumn they were married, and their descendants\ninherited their wonderful musical instruments, and still play the\npeculiar air, which has, as yet, lost none of its primitive charm.\n\nA similar story is told of the Wengernalp, where, however, on the eve\nof the wedding, the young herdsman\u2019s musical call was answered by a\nghostly voice announcing the death of his betrothed. The expectant\nbridegroom was so shocked by these tidings that he dropped his\nwonderful horn, which was shattered on the rocks below him. Then,\nmaddened by grief, he ranged the mountain, until, in a fit of despair,\nhe committed suicide.\n\nSince then, many imitations have been made of the magic horn, but none\nhas ever reproduced any of its best high notes, and all the present\ninstruments are remarkable for their deep, sad tones, which produce an\nindescribably mournful impression upon all those who hear them for the\nfirst time.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nON the way from Meiringen to the famous Rh\u00f4ne glacier, one sees some\nof the most beautiful and varied scenery in the world. After passing\ncharming points too numerous to mention, the road, which rises rapidly,\nleads over the barren Grimsel Pass, where stands a famous refuge for\npoor travellers, the well-known Grimsel Hospice.\n\nA legend claims that in olden times this region blossomed like the\nrose, and that the highest mountains were as fertile as any valley\nnestling in a sheltered location at their foot. When Our Lord bade the\nWandering Jew[4] begin the never-ending journey for which he is so\nnoted, he immediately set out, and tramping incessantly, started to\ncross the Alps at the Grimsel. Although constantly urged along by a\npower he could not resist, Ahasuerus, the Jew, marked the happy people\ndwelling on the banks of the Aare and the Rh\u00f4ne, and marvelled at the\nextreme fertility of the pass, where grapes and figs grew in abundance,\nwhere no barren spot could be seen, and where mighty oaks covered the\ntops of mountains now crowned by eternal snows.\n\n      [4] See the author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the Virgin and Christ.\u201d\n\nThe air was mild and balmy, even at the greatest altitude; and hosts\nof birds in bright plumage flitted about, twittering and singing in\nthe merriest way. Ahasuerus also noticed that the people were gentle\nand hospitable, for wherever he asked for food or drink it was quickly\ngranted, and he was warmly invited to tarry with them and rest his\nweary limbs. This invitation, however, he could not accept; but hurried\non, unconscious of the fact that a blight fell over every place through\nwhich he passed; for the curse laid upon him not only condemned him to\nmove on for ever, but enhanced his punishment by making cold, want, and\npestilence follow in his train.\n\nMany years passed by before the Wandering Jew again found himself near\nthe Alps; but weary as he was, he somewhat quickened his footsteps,\nhoping to feast his eyes upon the landscape which had so charmed him\nthe first time, and to meet again the warm-hearted people who had been\nso kind to him once before.\n\nAs he drew near the mountains, however, sad forebodings wrung his\nheart, for they were enveloped in a dense fog, which seemed to him\nparticularly cold and clammy. Hurrying on up the pass, he eagerly\nlooked from side to side, yet saw nothing but dark pines wildly tossing\ntheir sombre branches against a gray sky, while ravens and owls flew\npast him, croaking and hooting. Vines, figs, and oaks had vanished, and\nthe happy people, driven away by the constant windstorms which swept\nthe mountains, had taken refuge in the sheltered valleys. But although\nall else was changed, the spirit of hospitality still lingered on the\nheights, for the charcoal-burners gladly shared their meagre supply of\ncoarse food with the Wandering Jew, and warmly invited him to be seated\nat their campfire.\n\nThe Jew, however, had to hasten on; and many long years elapsed before\nhe again trod the Grimsel Pass. For a while he still perceived dark\nfirs and smouldering fires, but it seemed to him that they were much\nnearer the foot of the mountain than they had been at his second\nvisit. As he climbed upward he also noticed that the path was much more\nrugged than before, for rocks and stones had fallen down upon it from\nabove, making it almost impassable in certain places. As no obstacle\ncould stop this involuntary traveller, he went on over rolling stones\nand jagged rocks, and nearing the top of the pass discovered that\nevery trace of vegetation had vanished, and that the place formerly\nso fertile was now covered with barren rocks and vast fields of snow.\nRaising his eyes to the peaks all around him he perceived that oaks,\nbeeches, and pines had all vanished, and that the steep mountain sides\nwere heavily coated with ice, which ran far down into the valleys in\ngreat frozen streams.\n\nThe sight of all this desolation, which had taken the place of such\nluxuriant vegetation, proved too much for poor Ahasuerus, who sank down\non a rock by the wayside and burst into tears. There he sat and sobbed,\nas he realised for the first time the blighting effect of his passage.\nHis tears flowed so freely that they trickled down into a rocky basin,\nand when he rose to pursue his way down into the Hasli valley, he left\na little lake behind him.\n\nIn spite of the masses of snow and ice all around, and of the cold\nwinds which constantly sweep over that region, the waters of the lake\nstill remain as warm as the tears which fell from Ahasuerus\u2019s eyes; and\nno fish are ever found in this pool.\n\nStill, notwithstanding the desolate landscape, Ahasuerus found the\nspirit of hospitality not quite dead, for far up on the pass rose a\nshelter for weary travellers, where they were carefully tended by pious\nmonks. But even here he could not rest, and as he passed along down the\nmountain, he heard the thunder of falling avalanches behind him. It is\nduring this last journey that he is supposed to have lost the queer old\nshoe which was long treasured in one of the vaults of the Bern Library.\n\nIt is also said that when pausing at one of the huts in the Hasli\nvalley, he sorrowfully foretold that when fate brought him there for\nthe fourth and last time, the whole fruitful valley, from the top of\nthe mountains down to the Lake of Brienz, would be transformed into a\nhuge unbroken field of ice, where he would wander alone in quest of\nthe final resting-place which until now has been denied him, although\nEugene Field claims he found it in the New World.[5]\n\n      [5] See \u201cThe Holy Cross,\u201d by Eugene Field.\n\nThis account of the passage of the Wandering Jew is told with slight\nvariations of all the passes between Switzerland and Italy. Every\nparticularly barren spot in the former country is supposed to have been\nblighted because he passed through there, or because mortals sinned so\ngrievously that they brought a curse down upon it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nALTHOUGH travellers coming over the Grimsel often make their way from\nthere to Grindelwald, in the heart of the Oberland, this point is most\neasily reached from Interlaken, by means of the railroad following\nthe course of an Alpine stream, the L\u00fctchine, which flows in a rocky\nbed between tall cliffs and steep pine-clad hills. After passing\nBurglauenen, of which the same story is told as of Roll on the Lake\nof Thun, you come to Grindelwald, where you have the best view of the\nWetterhorn.\n\nA picturesque legend claims that in the Golden Age, when no snow or\nice had ever been seen in Switzerland, rich pastures lay between\nthe Faulhorn and the Siedelhorn. A fine brook flowing through there\nsupplied the cattle with all the water they needed, and enabled the\nherdsmen to keep all their pails and pans in a state of dazzling\nwhiteness and immaculate purity. The pasture was so rich, and the\ncows gave such quantities of milk, that the men were always tired of\nmilking long before they were through. Spoiled by too great plenty, and\nover-inclined to take their ease, these men cursed cows and pasture,\nso a great change soon took place, which at first struck them as very\nwelcome, because as the kine\u2019s milk decreased their work diminished.\n\nBut one day a maiden came to Gidi, the principal herdsman, and\nbreathlessly announced that a very strange thing had happened, for the\nbrook was all covered with a very thin sheet of glass! When Gidi heard\nthis, he cried,--\n\n\u201cThen it is high time we should change our pasture!\u201d\n\nHe therefore immediately drove his herd down into the valley, where,\nclearing away the dense forest, he built the little village Gidisdorf,\nwhich still bears his name. Since then, that place--more generally\nknown as Grindelwald--has become a great resort for tourists, who are\nattracted thither by the healthful situation, and by the marvellous\nviews obtainable on all sides. From this place many interesting\nexcursions are possible, among others that to the Scheidegg.\n\n[Illustration: GRINDELWALD.]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIT seems that the possession of the Great or Hasli Scheidegg was\nonce the cause of a serious dispute between the people of Hasli and\nGrindelwald. As the matter could not be settled otherwise, it was to\nbe decided by oath. The people of Grindelwald, who could not swear\ntruthfully that it belonged to them, nevertheless won it by stratagem,\nfor their champion, filling his shoes with earth from his garden at\nGrindelwald, boldly presented himself before the judge on the disputed\nland. There he swore in a tone of such intense conviction that he stood\nupon Grindelwald soil, that the judge, persuaded of the rectitude of\nhis claim, awarded the disputed land to his community.\n\nThe perjurer was, however, duly punished for this crime, for even now\nhis soul can find no rest. Mounted the wrong way round upon a ghostly\nsteed, he rides every night from the spot where he committed perjury\ndown to Meiringen; and if one listens attentively one can often hear\nhis sighs and groans as he takes this nightly jaunt.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nON either side of the Upper Grindelwald Glacier tower the Wetterhorn\nand the two Schreckhorn peaks. The latter mountains are said to be\nhaunted by an unhappy chamois-hunter, who insisted on going in pursuit\nof game, although a terrible storm was raging and his wife frantically\nimplored him to stay at home.\n\nAfter climbing far up among the rocks, he detected a fine chamois, and\ncrouching near the edge of a fearful abyss, took careful aim and fired.\nBut just then his gun recoiled, and losing his insecure footing, he\nslipped over the edge. Instead of falling all the way down, however,\nthe hunter landed on a narrow ledge of rock, whence he could not stir,\nfor the cliff rose straight above and fell sheer below him hundreds of\nfeet.\n\nThe poor man, unable to move, remained almost in the same position for\nthree days and two nights, when, seeing no hope of escape, and unable\nto endure his sufferings any longer, he resolved to commit suicide.\nWriting the story of the accident which had befallen him and of his\nfatal resolve, he threw the scrap of paper down into the abyss at his\nfeet. Then, reloading his gun, which he had held fast in his fall, he\nsent an unerring bullet straight through his brain.\n\nMonths later the paper was found close by his shattered corpse; and\nsince then, whenever a storm rages, one can hear the sudden report of a\ngun, a crashing fall, prolonged heart-rending groans, and the people\ndeclare it is the suicide repeating the awful tragedy which ended his\nlife.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIT seems that there was once a convent at Interlaken where the nuns,\nunmindful of their vows, led anything but pure lives. Banished after\ndeath to the Schreckhorn, these nuns lie buried deep in the snow; but\nthe spots where they rest glitter in a peculiar way, and are known as\nSnow Eyes. People say that they are placed there to serve as a constant\nwarning to the valley maidens not to follow the example of those\ndissolute nuns.\n\nA legend claims that St. Martin once came to Grindelwald, and finding a\nvalley too narrow to admit as much sunshine as he deemed necessary for\nthe good of the people, determined to widen it. He therefore resolutely\nbraced his back against the Mettenberg, and jamming his stick hard\nagainst the Eiger, pushed with such force that he partly accomplished\nhis purpose. Such was the effort he made, that the imprint of his\nback can still be seen in the Mettenberg and a final thrust of his\nstaff punched a hole through the Eiger! This perforation, far up the\nmountain, is known as the Heiterloch or Martinsloch, and the sun always\nshines through it on St. Martin\u2019s Day, to keep bright the memory of\nthe saint who made it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFAR up on the southwestern side of the Jungfrau, or Virgin Mountain, is\na desolate, icy place, known as the Rothenthal, or Red Valley. In olden\ntimes this was one of the most fertile pastures that had ever been\nseen. And as it was all gemmed over with delicate Alpine flowers, it\nwas generally known as the Alp of the Little Flowers, or the Bl\u00fcmelis\nAlp.\n\nA beautiful winding road leading right through this valley formed\na convenient pass between the cantons of Bern and Valais, and the\npeople there would have been perfectly happy had they not been subject\nto tyrannical lords. These noblemen were grasping and unprincipled,\nas well as cruel, and built a castle near the highway so that they\ncould conveniently despoil all travellers and levy supplies from the\npeasants in the neighbourhood. Not content with these depredations,\nthey cultivated every vice they could think of, and often kidnapped the\nmaidens who happened to please their taste or catch their lustful eyes.\n\n[Illustration: THE JUNGFRAU.]\n\nA beautiful and innocent maiden was once tending her cows upon the\nfragrant Bl\u00fcmelis Alp when the lord of Rothenthal suddenly perceived\nher, and inflamed by passion suddenly tried to seize her. The poor girl\nuttered a wild shriek of terror, and looked around her for help. No\none was in sight, however, and she already deemed herself lost, when\na big black goat suddenly appeared, and rushing against her assailant\nwith lowered horns, bucked him repeatedly, and finally hurled him over\nthe edge of the precipice. The maiden, who had fled when the nobleman\nlet go of her to defend himself against his horned antagonist, turned\naround just in time to see her persecutor fall. At the same moment\nthe mountains shook violently, and huge masses of ice and rock came\ncrashing down upon the blooming pasture, which, in the twinkling of an\neye, was converted into the icy waste you can see there to-day.\n\nAlthough now seldom trodden by human feet, the Rothenthal is still said\nto be haunted by the spirits of all those who have oppressed their\nfellow-men. Here they wander, up and down, bewailing their fate with\nsighs and groans which can be heard far and wide. Whenever the demons\nbring a new spirit thither to share their punishment, there is a grand\ncommotion in the Rothenthal,--stones roll, avalanches fall, and the\ncries and groans become so loud and sustained that the people in the\nneighbouring valleys, awakening with a start, hide their heads under\ntheir blankets and murmur,--\n\n\u201cThey are bringing another lord to the Valley!\u201d\n\nA moment later a sudden and stronger gust of wind sweeps past their\ndwellings; and when it is over, they timidly emerge from their\ncoverings, making the sign of the cross to ward off evil, or softly\nbreathing a prayer to be preserved from harm.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nINTERLAKEN is also the usual point of departure for those who wish to\nvisit the valley of Lauterbrunnen, the famous Falls of the Staubbach,\nand the pastures of M\u00fcrren, whence such a beautiful view of the Alps\ncan be obtained, and whence the sunset effects on the glaciers are\nparticularly grand. As Mr. Samuel Longfellow says,--\n\n     \u201cFrom M\u00fcrren\u2019s pastures zoned with snow\n        I watch the peaks, with quickened breath,\n      Flush in the sunset\u2019s passionate glow--\n        Fade into pallor passing death.\u201d[6]\n\n      [6] Poems of Places--Switzerland: Longfellow.\n\nWe are informed that in olden times, before the stream here had\nhollowed out its deep ravine, a herdsman used to exchange long\nconversations with his beloved, who tended her cattle on the opposite\nside of the Sausbach. One day when there was a great freshet, and the\nnoise of the roaring waters drowned their voices, the young people, in\na playful mood, began to fling handfuls of grass and sod at each other,\nlaughing merrily and making mocking signs whenever one of the harmless\nmissiles reached its goal. In the excitement of the game, however, the\nyoung man finally tore up a great lump of loose earth, and unconscious\nof the fact that a sharp stone lay imbedded deep in it, hurled it with\naccurate aim straight at the head of his sweetheart. Instead of the\nhalf-laughing, half-indignant outcry he fully expected, he suddenly saw\nthe maiden sink lifeless to the ground, for the sharp stone had run\nstraight into her temple!\n\nThe broken-hearted youth gave up his herd, withdrew from the company\nof his former associates, and building a hut on the very spot where\nthe girl he loved had perished, spent the rest of his life in penance\nand prayer. It is also said that he finally died there, without having\nknown another happy moment, and without ever smiling again.\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF SOLEURE\n\n\nSoleure, on the Aare, in the canton of the same name, is said to be,\nafter Tr\u00e8ves, the oldest city north of the Alps. Most of the old\nlandmarks and fortifications of this city have had to make way for\nmodern improvements; so the most interesting legends of the region are\nconnected with the pretty drives just outside the city.\n\nIn olden times, the picturesque Verenathal, or Verena valley, is said\nto have been the retreat of a woman so very good and pious that she\nwas known as St. Verena long before her death. This worthy creature,\nwishing to devote all her time to the worship of God, had betaken\nherself to this lonely spot, where she built a small hermitage and\nerected a cross, at the foot of which she spent many hours in fervent\nprayer. Such was her charity, that she constantly interceded for the\nwicked, pleading particularly for those who were most likely to succumb\nto temptation and thus fall into the devil\u2019s clutches.\n\nThese prayers and intercessions were not without avail; and the Evil\nOne, perceiving that he could not bag as many souls as usual in that\nvicinity, finally set out to discover what was the matter. Walking past\nthe hermitage, the sound of passionate and persistent prayer fell upon\nhis ear; so he noiselessly drew near to ascertain the exact nature of\nthe petition.\n\nListening attentively, he soon distinguished the words, and gnashed his\nteeth with rage when he overheard her interceding with special fervour\nin behalf of the very souls he hoped soon to have in his power. This,\nthen, was the reason for the alarming and otherwise unaccountable\ndecrease in the number of his victims! He therefore resolved that the\nprayers of the holy woman should immediately be stopped, and with that\nend in view tore a huge mass of stone from a neighbouring cliff. Then\nstealing near the saint, he held it for a moment suspended directly\nabove her head, carefully measuring the distance, so that he could kill\nher with one blow.\n\nBut just as he was about to let the mass fall upon Verena and crush\nher to death, she suddenly looked up, and met his baleful glance with\nsuch a look of mingled purity, compassion, and reproach, that Satan,\nstarting back involuntarily, let the rock slip from his nerveless\nhand. The boulder, falling on his foot, crushed it so badly that he\nimmediately vanished with a wrathful howl of pain and disappointment.\n\nThe rock thus dropped by the Evil One can now be seen on the very spot\nwhere it fell, and it still bears the distinct imprint of the Devil\u2019s\nclaws, which seem burnt in the stone.\n\n     \u201cWilt thou not believe my legend,\n      Go to St. Verena\u2019s glen;\n      In the rocky clump thou\u2019lt see there\n      Print of Satan\u2019s fingers ten.\u201d[7]\n\n      [7] Poems of Places--Switzerland: Longfellow.\n\nSince then, his Infernal Majesty is said to have systematically avoided\npassing through the narrow gorge where he met with this unpleasant\naccident. But he is constantly reminded of St. Verena and of his\nluckless attempt, for his crushed foot never recovered from this\naccident, and he has walked lame from that day to this.\n\nNear the hermitage hallowed by the holy life and death of St. Verena,\nthere is a tiny chapel; and a little farther on one can see a\nrepresentation of the Holy Sepulchre, hewn out of the rock, and adorned\nwith life-size statues. This place is frequently visited by pilgrims,\nwho also stand in awe and wonder before the fountains of the Soleure\nCathedral, which represent Moses striking the rock, and Gideon wringing\nthe dew out of the fleece, which, by a miracle, was dripping wet when\nall the ground around it was dry.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTED as a railway junction, as well as a pleasantly located town on\nthe Aare, Olten is only five miles distant from the pretty health\nresort of Frohburg, on the Hauenstein. From this eminence one can enjoy\na wonderful panorama of the Alps, extending from the Sentis at the\nextreme northwest, to Mont Blanc at the southeastern end of the mighty\nrange of snow-capped mountains.\n\nWithin a few minutes\u2019 walk from the hotel of Frohburg, are the ruins of\na castle of the same name, once famous for its beauty as well as its\ngreat strength. The owner of this castle, the last Count of Frohburg,\nwas known far and wide as a wealthy and powerful nobleman, who ruled\nhis people with a heavy hand. His lands, extending for miles around the\ncastle, were carefully parcelled out among the peasants, who, beside\nthe feudal service required of them by their exacting master, were\nfurther compelled to give him one tenth of all the produce of their\nlittle farms.\n\nOn the day appointed for the payment of the grain tithes, the lord of\nFrohburg, standing on the battlements of his castle, yearly beheld the\napproach of a train of wheat-laden wagons, which formed an unbroken\nline several miles long. Indeed, it is said that when the first cart\nvanished under the tunnel-like gateway of the castle, the last could\njust be seen crossing the bridge at Olten, more than five miles away.\n\nAll this wealth and power, however, only tended to spoil the Count of\nFrohburg, who daily grew more haughty and overbearing, and finally\npersuaded himself that his vassals had been created for his good\npleasure only, and were not human beings like himself. This belief made\nhim extremely cruel and tyrannical, but his overweening pride was soon\nto be severely punished.\n\nOne day, shortly after the grain tithes had been paid, while the lord\nof Frohburg was away from home, a terrible earthquake suddenly shook\nthe whole range of the Jura Mountains. The castle of Frohburg, unable\nto withstand the awful shock, although its owner proudly averred it\nwould stand forever, was soon reduced to a heap of unsightly ruins,\nfrom which rose dense clouds of choking dust. Towers and battlements,\nhalls and dungeons, were all laid low, and a messenger set off in great\nhaste to apprise the Count of the utter destruction of his abode.\n\nThis emissary met his master on the bridge, where he breathlessly and\ntremblingly imparted his bad tidings. No sooner had the Count heard\nhis report, than he flew into an awful passion, cursing and swearing\nso vehemently that all the people shrank away from him in horror. In\nhis anger at his loss, and further enraged by his retainers\u2019 evident\nreluctance to remain in the company of a blasphemer, the lord of\nFrohburg raised his right hand to heaven and threateningly cried,--\n\n\u201cAs true as I am lord of the land, not one of you shall again till his\nfields, until my castle has been rebuilt by the work of your hands!\u201d\n\nAt these words the distressed people groaned aloud, for the castle was\na huge edifice, and many months of arduous labour would be necessary\nbefore it again rose in all its strength and magnificence. Forced to\nwork without pay for their cruel lord, they would be doomed to starve\nto death with their wives and children, while the fields which had been\nso productive hitherto would lie fallow and bare.\n\nWhile they still stood there in speechless dismay, a thunderbolt\nsuddenly fell from a cloudless sky upon the cruel lord of Frohburg,\nwho soon lay before them a blackened and lightning-scarred corpse.\nThus, in the midst of his vassals, Providence punished the wicked man\nfor his cruelty and blasphemy.\n\nAs this nobleman was the last of his race, the Castle of Frohburg was\nnever rebuilt. It can still be seen, a mass of ruins, as it was left\nby the memorable earthquake of 1356, which made such a havoc among the\nbuildings in the Jura mountains.\n\n\n\n\nBASEL\n\n\nBasel, the capital of the canton of the same name, was founded by the\nRomans before Christ. After serving as one of their military posts, it\nbecame a free town under the empire, and at the very beginning of the\nsixteenth century joined the Swiss Confederation.\n\nThe centre of a bishopric founded by Charlemagne, this city was\nalready famous in his day for its churches, monasteries, and schools,\nalthough the present cathedral was built only two hundred years later.\nIt suffered sorely from the great earthquake of 1356, when tradition\nasserts that the building rocked so portentously that a huge bell of\npure silver was hurled from its spire straight into the Rhine. There\nit still lies, and on clear days can be seen shining deep down under\nthe water. Sometimes, too, its sound can be heard there, for the\nRhine spirits--who are all good Christians--ring it regularly at the\nappointed hours for prayer.\n\nThe old fortifications of the town have nearly all vanished, but the\nfourteenth-century Spalenthor still stands. Between that gate and\nthe Spalenberg, the Spalen, a ghostly creature, is said to rush every\nstormy night. None of the inhabitants can describe it exactly, for they\nhave only caught fleeting glimpses of it, although they have frequently\nheard it pass.\n\nThis ghost is variously designated as a sea-horse, a pig, a dragon,\nor a griffin, but if any one attempts to ascertain its exact nature,\nby looking out of the window when the sound of its flying footsteps\nis heard, he is duly punished by waking up on the morrow with a very\nswollen face. A bold spirit, who once recklessly thrust his head far\nout of the window to satisfy his curiosity, is said to have been\nstricken with such sudden and exaggerated inflammation that the window\nframe had to be removed before he could again draw in his head!\n\n[Illustration: THE SPALENTHOR (OR THE SPALEN GATE) BASEL.]\n\nThe two divisions of the town, on either side of the river, were long\nat feud, and this division was commemorated by a statue on the old\nbridge, which by means of a curious mechanism continually stuck out a\nderisive tongue at the people on the other side. This image, locally\nknown as the \u201cL\u00e4llenk\u00f6nig\u201d is now in the city museum. In reply to this\ninsult the people of the opposite side are said to have set up a rival\nstatue, which turned its back in the most contemptuous way to the\nfamous L\u00e4llenk\u00f6nig.[8]\n\n      [8] For this and other legends of Basel, see the author\u2019s\n           \u201cLegends of the Rhine.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOT far from the Summer Casino stands the St. Jacob monument,\ncommemorating a battle of the same name fought in 1444. Tradition\ndeclares that thirty days before this fight, the people of Basel were\nwarned of its approach by sudden noises high up in the air above them.\nFirst came a rush, as of mailed steeds; then a clash like that of\ncontending armies, followed by a din of cries and groans. Although\nnothing was visible, the people knew full well that Satan\u2019s ghostly\ntrain was already fighting in the air above them in anticipation of the\ncoming carnage.\n\nWhen the fight at St. Jacob really took place, Burkard of\nLandskron--whose ruined castle stands near Basel--sided with the\nFrench. He fought all day with such fury that when evening came and the\nbattle was ended, he and his milk-white battle steed were all covered\nwith blood. Gazing around him, Burkard saw the ground strewn with\ncorpses, the grass and bushes drenched with blood, while the very brook\nran red with gore.\n\nThe warrior, who delighted in warfare, gazed enraptured at this awful\nscene; then, patting his horse, he joyfully cried,--\n\n\u201cAh, old fellow! you and I are bathing in roses to-day, are we not?\u201d\n\nThese unfeeling words, which were answered by a gentle neigh from the\nweary steed, fell upon the dying ears of a brave Swiss, who had gone\ninto battle echoing his companions\u2019 dauntless cry, \u201cOur souls to God,\nour bodies to the enemy!\u201d\n\nRaising himself feebly, he fixed dim, resentful eyes upon the cruel\nvictor; then, recognising in him a bitter foe of his country, his heart\nswelled once more in violent anger. Too weak to rise and strike another\nblow with the sword which had done such good service that day, the\nSwiss fumbled around for a moment, then, seizing a stone dyed red with\npatriot blood, hurled it straight at Landskron, saying,--\n\n\u201cThere, eat one of your roses, you fiend!\u201d\n\nThe stone, flung with unerring aim, struck the warrior in the middle of\nhis forehead, and he fell with a crash to the ground, bathed in his own\nlife-blood. This last effort, however, entirely exhausted the patriot,\nwho, after seeing his enemy fall, sank back on the blood-stained sward,\nwhere he breathed his last sigh.\n\nThe bravery of the small Swiss force which held out here, hour after\nhour, against an army twenty or thirty times greater, so surprised\nLouis XI. that he gladly made peace with the Swiss, who still consider\nthis battle their Thermopyl\u00e6.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOT far from the ruined castle of Landskron, and near the village of\nEttingen on one of the spurs of the Jura mountains, are the remains of\nthe old castle of F\u00fcrstenstein, the home of a lord of Rothberg in the\nfourteenth century.\n\nA thoroughly virtuous knight, this nobleman married a good wife, and\nboth were equally devoted to their only child, a charming little girl\nof about four years of age. One day the mother took the little maiden\nout into the forest, where she let her run about to fill her basket\nwith wood-flowers, and with the tiny wild strawberries whose perfume\nand flavour are so delicious. The mother sat down in the shade of a big\ntree, where the little one came every few moments to exhibit some new\ntreasure; but the Lady of Rothberg sprang to her feet in terror when a\nsharp cry rang suddenly through the air.\n\nRushing to the place where her child had stood a moment before, she now\nbeheld a frightfully steep precipice, but when she leaned far over the\nedge, frantically calling the child, nothing but a loud echo replied.\n\nBeside herself with grief, the unhappy mother rushed down the mountain\npath, wildly imploring the Virgin to protect her babe. On reaching\nthe foot of the mountain, and the entrance to the ravine, she almost\nfainted with joy, for her little girl came running joyfully forward to\nmeet her. The mother clasped the child rapturously to her breast, and\nwhen the first emotion was over, and she had assured herself that her\ndarling was uninjured, she gently began to question her. The little\nmaiden artlessly related that she had gone very near the edge of the\nprecipice to pick a beautiful flower, and had suddenly fallen. But\nbefore she could touch the ground, she was caught in the arms of a\nbeautiful woman, who gently set her down upon the soft grass, pointing\nout the red strawberries which grew there in profusion and which she\nhad begun to pick for her father.\n\nThis miraculous rescue of their only child filled the parents\u2019 hearts\nwith such gratitude that they built a rock chapel on the spot where the\nlittle one fell. An image of the Virgin was placed in this building,\nwhich soon became a resort for pilgrims coming from far and from near\nto pray at the shrine of Maria im Stein. Later on, a Benedictine\nabbey, Mariastein, was erected near here; and a fine church now rises\non the crag just above the rock-hewn commemorative chapel.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ruined castle of Waldenburg, near the village of the same name,\nwas once the home of an exacting nobleman, who required such hard and\ncontinual labour from his numerous vassals, that they had no time to\ntill the fields destined to supply their families with food.\n\nOne poor man had been kept so persistently at work for his lord, that\nhis wife and children were in sore need. When a messenger came to\nrequire further service, he desperately seized a dish, and holding it\nout to him, declared he would work no more, unless that vessel were\nfilled thrice a day with wholesome food for his starving family.\n\nWhen the messenger gave this answer to the cruel lord, the latter\nimmediately clapped the recalcitrant vassal into a damp prison, vowing\nhe should remain there until he died miserably among the toads and\nother vermin which infested it.\n\nThe poor wife, driven almost frantic by the cries of her hungry\nchildren, painfully wended her way up to the castle one cold winter\nday, and meeting her master as he rode out of the gate on his way to\nthe chase, fell on her knees in front of him, begging for her husband\u2019s\nrelease.\n\nThe lord of Waldenburg, who did not even know the meaning of the word\ncompassion, roughly bade her rise, threatening to trample her under\nfoot like the rest of the dirt if she did not immediately get out of\nhis way. But the woman still knelt on, pleading for her husband and for\nthe hungry children who had no bread.\n\nMotioning to his huntsman to give her one of the stones by the wayside,\nthe lord now mockingly cried,--\n\n\u201cThere is bread for your children. It will last all the longer because\nit is so hard; but when they have eaten it, you may come again, and I\nwill give you some more of the same kind.\u201d\n\nThis unfeeling remark proved too much for the outraged mother and wife.\nShe sprang indignantly to her feet and cursed her master with trembling\nlips, saying that she wished his whole body might be turned into stone\nas hard and cold as his heart.\n\nAt that instant, the lord of Waldenburg felt a strange chill run\nthrough his veins, his muscles suddenly stiffened, and before he could\nmove or even utter a sound, he and his steed were petrified. His\nvassals, seeing Heaven had avenged them, now rushed into the castle,\nfreed the prisoners, took possession of all the money and food, and in\npassing out again taunted the stone image of the man who had wronged\nthem so persistently.\n\nThis stone knight still mounts solemn guard near the entrance of his\nformer castle, although wind and weather have so disintegrated the once\nhard rock that its primitive shape is now almost unrecognisable.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN many parts of Switzerland, the noisy June bugs are known as thunder\nbugs. Near Basel, as well as at Ormond, the following amusing story\nis told of some simple peasants who dwelt in a deep valley. A long\ndrought had made the soil so hard and dry that the people feared their\nharvests would be ruined unless they soon had rain. As their prayers\nand processions proved alike unavailing, they longed to try some more\nefficacious means of rain-making.\n\nA joker, hearing their quandary, now gravely bade them go to Basel and\nbuy a little thunder at the drug-store there, assuring them that if\nthey only let it loose in their valley, the rain would soon follow. The\npeasants, hearing this, immediately sent a deputation to the city, and\nentering the largest and most fashionable apothecary shop, the rustic\nspokesman confidentially informed the clerk that he had come to buy\nsome thunder.\n\nThe clerk, who was not devoid of humour, gravely asked a few leading\nquestions, then went into the rear of the store, saying he would get\nwhat they wanted. Stepping out into the garden unseen, he caught a\nfew June bugs, and packed them carefully in a large pill-box. This he\nwrapped up and solemnly delivered to the waiting peasants, making such\na very small charge that they openly regretted not having known sooner\nthat thunder could be purchased so cheap in Basel.\n\nThe men now set out on their return journey to the Frickthal, and as\nthe apothecary had gravely charged them not to open the box until they\nreached their village, they passed the little parcel from hand to hand,\nweighed and shook it, and grinned at each other with delight when they\nheard a faint rumbling noise within it.\n\nTheir impatience to see what this thunder might look like so engaged\ntheir attention that they did not notice dark clouds looming up behind\nthem, and when they reached the top of the mountain at the foot of\nwhich lay their village, they determined to wait no longer and opened\nthe box. With a loud buzz and a bang, the June bugs, resenting their\nimprisonment and violent shaking, now flew, as luck would have it,\ndirectly over the village, while the deputation raced wildly down the\nmountain side with empty pill-box!\n\nThe people were all on the market-place ready to receive them, and as\nsoon as they appeared, clamoured to see the thunder they had purchased.\nThe men sheepishly confessed what they had done, but declared all\nwould yet be right, because the thunder bugs had flown straight over\nthe village, and the rain would doubtless soon follow. Fortunately for\nthem, the first black cloud just then appeared over the top of the\nmountain, and the people, perceiving it, gave a loud shout of joy. In\nan almost incredibly short space of time, all the Frickthalers were\nobliged to take refuge in their dwellings, for the rain came down in\ntorrents, drenching the soil which had been so parched, and thus saving\nall the people from the threatened famine.\n\n\n\n\nAARGAU\n\n\nIn early days when men were simple-minded and pious, two lovely\nchildren were often seen hovering over the Aargau grain fields when\nthe ears were just beginning to form. A boy and a girl, with golden\ncurls waving over plump white shoulders, and gleaming white garments\nflowing down to the tiny feet which barely touched the swaying grain,\nthis little pair flitted on from field to field, with dimpled hands\noutstretched as if in blessing.\n\nWherever they passed a golden gleam rested like a halo upon the land,\nwhere they were generally known as the Grain Angels, and people knew\nthat a fine harvest was assured. These radiant little cherubs were the\nspirits of two little children, who, straying into a harvest field,\nlost their way and died there like the fabled Babes in the Woods.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE people of Brugg once agreed to assemble on the next rainy day, and\nsallying forth in a body, plant an extensive oak forest near their\nquaint little city. As soon as the sky darkened, therefore, and the\nrain began to fall, they all went out, thrust sharp sticks into the\ndamp ground, dropped acorns into the holes thus made, and pushing the\ndirt down with their feet, pressed it down hard. As men, women, and\nchildren took part in this sowing-bee, twelve acres were soon planted,\nand when the wet workers came back to town, the magistrates rewarded\nthem by giving each a small wheaten roll.\n\nThe acorns thus consigned to the soil failed to grow because planted\ntoo deep, so the expedition was repeated on the following year, the\nseed being now laid in furrows instead of separate holes. This system\nof planting proving equally unsuccessful, the Brugg magistrates, on the\nthird year, bade the inhabitants go forth into a neighbouring forest,\ndig up promising young trees, and plant them carefully on the spot\nwhere the future forest was to stand.\n\nThis third attempt, made in 1532, was turned into a sort of picnic by\nthe merry children, who, singing in chorus, carried the young oaks to\nthe appointed place, where each carefully planted the chosen tree. When\nthey came home, the magistrates again gave each child a roll, and\ninvited the older people to a grand public banquet where all drank to\nthe success of the young oaks.\n\nThis time the trees throve apace, and on every anniversary of this\nfamous oak-planting, the little ones march in gay procession all around\nthe woods and come home brandishing green branches, to prove to their\nparents that the forest is doing well. This quaint procession of wands,\nor Ruthenzug, has been kept up for centuries, and we are told the Brugg\nschool-children enjoy it to-day as much as any of their ancestors.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE mineral springs at Baden were once under the protection of three\nwise women, who, although no one knew who they were or whence they\ncame, were generally supposed to have inhabited the old castle of Stein.\n\nAlthough usually on duty near the springs, these wise dames avoided\nbeing seen by the bathers, but if the water were defiled in any way, or\nif any of the rules were disregarded, they suddenly and mysteriously\nchecked the flow of the healing waters, and did not allow another drop\nto run until the impurities were removed, or the wrong-doing ceased.\n\nThe wise women of Baden were particularly careful of the Verena\nspring, so called because the saint of that name once bathed in its\nwaters. Into that basin they directed a stream of mineral waters of\nspecial potency when used by women and children. Sick babies plunged\ninto this healing flood emerged rosy and well, and the women who came\nhere to recover lost health or to secure the blessing of offspring,\nwere sure soon to see the fulfilment of their dearest hopes.\n\nThe three guardian spirits of the Baden springs were so beautiful and\nbenevolent that the people likened them to the Virgin, and at a loss\nfor another appellation designated them the three Marys. Their memory\nis not only treasured at Baden, but it is also enshrined in a nursery\nrhyme, to which all German-speaking children are trotted in Switzerland.\n\n     \u201cRite, rite R\u00f6ssli,\n      Ze Bade stoht e Schl\u00f6ssli,\n      Ze Bade stoht e g\u00fcldi Hus,\n      Es lueged drei Mareie drus.\n      Die eine spinnt Side,\n      Die andere schn\u00fctzelt Chride,\n      Die dritt schnit Haberstrau,\n      B\u2019h\u00fcet mir Gott das Chindle au!\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAT Wettingen, the building now occupied by the Normal School was once\nan old abbey founded in 1227 by Henry, Count of Rapperswyl. This\nnobleman was so good and pious that he spent most of his time in\npilgrimages, thereby winning the nickname of The Wanderer. Returning\nfrom the Holy Land, he once found himself in imminent danger of\nperishing in the waves, and fixing his eyes upon a bright star which\nsuddenly shone through a break in the stormy sky, he made a solemn vow\nto build a monastery at Wettingen should his life be spared.\n\nThis prayer was evidently heard, for the storm soon abated and the ship\ncame safely to land. When the Count of Rapperswyl therefore reached\nhome, he founded the abbey, which, in memory of his vow, and of the\nstar he saw at sea, was called Maria Stella, or Meer Stern, the Star of\nthe Sea.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE handsome old castle of Hallwyl, the ancestral home of a noble\nSwiss family of the same name, stands on the road between Lucerne and\nLenzburg, near the Lake of Hallwyl.\n\nA lord of Hallwyl had three sons, and as the two elder ones died early,\nthe third had to drop his clerical studies and prepare to fulfil his\nduties as future head of his house. Although this young man duly\nmarried and had a fine son, it seems that he never ceased to regret\nhis interrupted priestly career, but, surrounded by monks of all kinds,\nspent his time in religious practices and in poring over homilies and\nchurch records.\n\nNone too strong to begin with, these long vigils and fasts so\nundermined his health, that he finally became dangerously ill. One\nday, fearing that he was about to die, he vowed he would send his\nson on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land should he recover. True to this\npromise, the lord of Hallwyl no sooner left his bed than he recalled\nhis son, who was fighting under Rudolf of Hapsburg, and bade him set\nout immediately for the Holy Sepulchre. The young man, who thought his\nservices more needed at home, nevertheless prepared to obey, for a\nvow was a sacred matter and children in those days rarely ventured to\nquestion parental orders.\n\nAt parting the old lord of Hallwyl broke his ring in two, telling the\nyoung man that when death overtook him he would leave his half to his\nfather confessor. The latter would administer the estates carefully,\ngiving them up to none but the man who established his right to them by\nproducing the other half of the broken ring.\n\nIt took twenty years for John of Hallwyl to fulfil his father\u2019s vow.\nDuring that time the old man died, and the monks took possession of\ncastle and estates. They were so determined not to give them up again,\nhowever, that they not only announced the death of young Hallwyl, but\nturned out of his castle an orphaned relative to whom he had been\nbetrothed in her infancy according to his mother\u2019s wish. Alone and\nfriendless,--for she refused to yield to the monks\u2019 suggestions and\nenter a convent,--this young girl would have died of want, had not the\nlord of M\u00fcllinen, a friend of her betrothed, offered her a home with\nhis mother and sister in his own castle.\n\nCl\u00e9mence gratefully accepted this kind proposal, and as she had been a\nmere babe when John of Hallwyl started out on his perilous journey, she\ndid not prove faithless to him when she unconsciously fell in love with\nhis noble friend.\n\nNow it happened that John of Hallwyl was not dead, as many supposed. On\nthe contrary, he was even then on his way home to claim his estates.\nThe monks, hearing this by accident, and determined to keep his\nproperty, hired highwaymen to lie in wait for him and murder him before\nhe could reach Hallwyl and make himself known. This bold plan might\nhave succeeded, had not the lord of M\u00fcllinen chanced to hunt near\nthe place where the highwaymen were ambushed. Hearing the noise of a\nfight, he spurred rapidly forward, and perceiving a knight on the point\nof succumbing to a large force, made such a gallant charge that the\nrobbers fled.\n\nWhen M\u00fcllinen bent over the prostrate form of the man he had rescued,\nhe found him grievously wounded, and had him carefully carried home.\nThere, when the traces of blood had been gently removed, he recognised\nin the stranger his long-absent friend. Of course, he and the ladies\nnow vied with each other in caring for Hallwyl, who, becoming aware\nduring his convalescence of the affection existing between his friend\nand betrothed, generously released her and bade them be happy together.\n\nAs soon as he was sufficiently recovered he presented himself before\nthe monks to claim his inheritance. They, however, pretended not\nto recognise him, but politely declared that if he could produce a\nfragment of ring exactly fitting the one entrusted to their keeping by\nthe last lord of Hallwyl, they would gladly surrender the castle to him.\n\nHearing this, John of Hallwyl immediately presented the broken ring,\nand the monks sent for the casket in which they preserved the token\nleft by the deceased. To John\u2019s surprise and indignation, however, it\nfailed to fit his half of the circlet, and the monks called him an\nimpostor and dismissed him empty-handed.\n\nHallwyl and his friend now rode back to M\u00fcllinen, determined to appeal\nto the feudal court of Aargau for justice. There, both parties were\ncalled upon to expose their case and take their oath, but as the judge\nwas entirely at a loss to decide which was right, he decreed the matter\nshould be settled by a judiciary duel between John of Hallwyl and a\nchampion selected by the monks.\n\nOn the appointed day, and in the presence of all the lords and ladies\nof the country, Hallwyl met his opponent in the lists, and after a\nfearful struggle and the display of almost fabulous strength and\ncourage succeeded in defeating him. Then, while the monks\u2019 champion lay\nwhere he had fallen, slowly dying from his many wounds, he suddenly\nconfessed aloud that he and a band of assassins had been hired to\nwaylay and kill Hallwyl on his return home.\n\nBefore he could add another word he expired, but the monks one and all\nsolemnly declared that the poor man was raving, for they had always\nbeen willing to relinquish possession of the Hallwyl estates to any one\nwho produced the right token. The mendacity of this statement was soon\nproved, however, for a dying jeweller confessed that he had been hired\nto make an exact copy of the broken ring, but altering its shape in\nsuch a way that the fragment in the young man\u2019s possession would fail\nto fit it.\n\nJohn of Hallwyl, having thus recovered his estates, soon went off to\nwar again, and only when weary of fighting came home, married, and\nbrought up several sons whose descendants still live in different parts\nof the country to-day.\n\nThe ring of Hallwyl is noted in Swiss art and literature, and the above\nstory forms the theme of poems, paintings, and historical romances,\nwhich, bearing an unmistakable medi\u00e6val imprint, have a peculiar and\nenduring charm of their own.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAT the foot of the W\u00fclpelsberg, on the right of the beautiful Aare\nvalley, are the Schinznach sulphur baths, so frequently visited by\nFrench and Swiss sufferers from skin diseases.\n\nOne of the favourite walks from this point leads up the mountain to the\nruins of Hapsburg Castle, the most famous of all Swiss strongholds.\nFounded in 1020, it is the cradle of the imperial family of Austria,\nin whose hands it remained for more than two centuries. Then, by\npapal decree, it passed out of their keeping, and was Swiss property\nuntil the Canton of Aargau presented it as a wedding gift to Rudolf,\nthe prince imperial, on his marriage with a Belgian princess. Only one\ncrumbling tower of the famous castle now stands, but the ruins are\nsurrounded by such a halo of history, legend, and romance, that they\nare particularly attractive to all visitors.\n\nThe founders of this castle, the Counts of Altenburg, trace their\ngenealogy back to the seventh century, when their ancestors ruled in\nAlsacia and Alemannia. Rich and influential even at this early date,\nthese noblemen sought to extend their possessions by every means in\ntheir power. Their repeated encroachments upon their neighbours\u2019\ndominions were not accepted without protest, however, and when the\nemperor, in answer to frantic appeals for justice, bade them relinquish\nthe territory to which they could lay no rightful claim, they assumed\nso defiant an attitude that an armed struggle soon ensued. The upshot\nof this conflict was that the grasping noblemen were despoiled of\nthe main part of their estates, forced to leave Alsacia, and they\ntook refuge in Helvetia, where they had already acquired some\nproperty. There they built new homes at Wohlen, Altenburg, and Muri,\nwhere, by fair means and by foul, they continued their policy of\nself-aggrandisement until their shattered fortunes were fully restored.\n\nThe sun of prosperity shining brightly over their heads once more,\nthese noblemen again openly defied the imperial authority. But, taught\nby experience, they wisely resolved to prepare for future emergencies\nby erecting an impregnable fortress, in which they and their dependents\ncould successfully resist even the emperor\u2019s forces.\n\nGazing about them for the most favourable site for their projected\nstronghold, the Altenburgs finally decided upon the W\u00fclpelsberg.\nTradition relates, however, that while they were still hesitating\nwhere to build their future castle, Count Radbod of Altenburg went out\nhawking one day. While he was flying his birds in the Aare valley,\none of them got away, and refusing to obey his call, flew off to a\nneighbouring height. Loath to lose his favourite bird, Count Radbod\nset out in pursuit of it, scrambled up the wooded slopes of the\nW\u00fclpelsberg, nor paused until he caught the truant hawk, which was\nperched on the topmost ridge of the mountain.\n\nThe bird duly secured and hooded, Count Radbod--who had been too intent\nupon its capture to pay any attention to his surroundings--looked\nabout him to find his bearings, and remained spell-bound before the\nmagnificent view he now beheld.\n\nAt his feet lay the Birrfeld,--a plain where Constantius Chlorus fought\na bloody battle against the Alemans in 303. Many thriving villages\nnow dot this part of the country, and their gables and church spires\nrise here and there among flourishing fruit trees. But the modern\ntraveller\u2019s glance rests by preference upon the peaceful hamlet where\nPestalozzi, founder of the kindergarten and prince of educators, spent\nthe last few years of a useful life.\n\nCount Radbod gazed enraptured at the extensive forests, and the\npicturesque valleys of the Aare, the Limmat, and the Reuss, tracing the\ncourse of these mountain streams to the point where they meet and merge\ninto one, near the site of the old Roman station, Vindonissa. Then his\neyes rested upon the green hills rising in ever widening circles around\nhim, while above and behind them towered the Alps, like a host of\nsnow-clad angels mounting silent guard over the matchless landscape.\n\nCharmed with the prospect before him, and quickly perceiving the\nstrategic value of the location, Count Radbod immediately determined to\nbuild his fortress on the spot where he had caught his hawk, calling\nit the Hawk\u2019s Castle, or Habichtsburg, in memory of the circumstances\nunder which this decision had been reached.\n\nThe castle was therefore duly begun, the walls being built strong and\nthick so as to resist every attack. Still, only a small part of the\nfunds furnished by the family for the erection of the stronghold was\ndevoted to that purpose, for Radbod wisely used the main portion to\nacquire numerous friends, vassals, and servants, who promised to stand\nby him and his in time of danger.\n\nThe castle was not entirely finished when Radbod\u2019s brother, Bishop\nWerner, announced his visit to inspect the work. Upon receipt of this\nnews, Count Radbod summoned his dependents, bade them hide in the\nneighbourhood, and noiselessly surround the fortress at a given signal.\nThen he went to meet the Bishop and escort him up to the new castle.\nWerner sincerely admired the location and strength of the building, but\nfound fault because it was not flanked by outer walls and towers, and\nbecause the interior was so bare of all ornamentation. He finally asked\nRadbod somewhat testily what had become of all the money sent him,\nfor it was self-evident it had not all been expended on the fortress.\nRadbod good-naturedly bade the bishop cease his grumbling and go to\nbed, promising to prove on the morrow that every penny had been wisely\ninvested in making the castle impregnable and in strengthening their\nposition in the land.\n\nAt sunrise, on the following day, Werner rose from his couch, and going\nto the window gazed in speechless admiration at the view. But while\nhe stood there, feasting his eyes upon the flame-tipped glaciers, his\nattention was suddenly attracted by shadowy forms, which, starting\nup from behind every rock, shrub, and tree at his feet, stealthily\nsurrounded the castle. In terror lest the imperial forces--whose coming\nhe always dreaded--should have stolen a march upon him, and lest he and\nhis brother should fall into the enemy\u2019s hands, the bishop rushed to\nthe door to give the alarm. But on the threshold he met Count Radbod,\nwho, smiling at his fright, quietly said,--\n\n\u201cRest without fear, my brother. The men you see yonder are your vassals\nand mine, fully armed for our defence. I acquired their services with\nthe funds entrusted to my care, for I knew strong walls would prove of\nlittle avail, unless defended by stout hearts and willing hands.\u201d\n\nThis answer, and the sight of the brave men now drawn up in military\narray for his inspection, more than satisfied the bishop, who,\naccepting Radbod\u2019s invitation, betook himself to the great hall of the\ncastle, where he received the oath of fealty and the respectful homage\nof the new retainers of his race. Since then, all the members of the\nold Altenburg family have been known as the counts of Habsburg, or\nHapsburg, a modification of the old Habichtsburg.[9]\n\n      [9] See the author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the Rhine.\u201d\n\nThe Hapsburgs throve apace in their new home, their power increasing\nuntil even the freemen of the land humbly besought their protection\nin exchange for the payment of certain taxes. But the ascendency thus\ngained by these noblemen made them more arrogant and tyrannical than\never, so that they finally considered themselves owners of the land,\nand lords of the free people they were gradually exasperating by their\narbitrary treatment.\n\nIn those days, the greatest of all the Hapsburg race, Rudolf III., was\nborn in the castle, the emperor being his sponsor. At twenty-one, owing\nto the early death of his father, Rudolf became head of the family,\nand began that career of warfare and conquest for which he is noted\nin history. Afraid of nothing, and ready to grasp at everything, his\nneighbours soon learned to dread him, and the Bishop of Basel--with\nwhom he had a feud--expressed the general opinion of his congeners by\ncrying out once in comical dismay,--\n\n\u201cSit firm upon Thy throne, O Lord God, or the Count of Hapsburg will\ncrowd Thee, too, out of it!\u201d\n\nStill, Rudolf was so frank and genial, that he won many friends and\nadherents, and his sturdy warriors were particularly devoted to him,\nbecause he shared all their fatigues, cheerfully partook of their\nfrugal fare, and was even seen by their camp fire diligently mending\nhis worn garments.\n\nWhen Rudolf could not compass his ends by force, he frequently resorted\nto ruse. For instance, wishing to take a castle on the Uetliberg near\nZ\u00fcrich, which was owned by a Robber-Knight who despoiled all the\ncitizens passing along that way, he devised the following stratagem.\nThirty tall and strong horsemen, mounted upon sturdy steeds, were\ndirected each to take a companion behind him, and ride up the mountain.\nA force of thirty men had no terrors for the Robber-Knight, who\nboldly sallied forth with his garrison to attack them. But when he\nfound himself face to face with double that number, he fled in terror\nfollowed by all his retainers. Rudolf\u2019s small force now entered the\nwide-open gates of the castle, and after disposing of its occupants and\nriches, razed it to the ground.\n\nWhile administering his affairs in person, Rudolf proved a kind and\njust master, and often sat under the linden-tree at Altorf, to award\njustice to the freemen of Uri, who had chosen him as their umpire.\nBut while he was away, upholding the tottering fortunes of the\nHohenstauffens, or extending his domains, his bailiffs and stewards\nruled with a rod of iron over the estates he had won. Such were their\nexactions, that the people of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwald, who had\nlong prided themselves upon their independence, finally determined to\nrecover their freedom. In 1245 they openly rebelled, but while Uri\nrecovered its lost liberty, and was again allowed to depend directly\nfrom the crown, Schwyz and Unterwald were compelled to remain under the\noverlordship of the Hapsburg race.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOREST CANTONS\n\n\nRudolf von Hapsburg\u2019s many possessions included an old castle on the\nRamflue, which, although it is said to have been founded by the Romans,\nwas known as Neu Hapsburg. Charmingly located on the banks of the Lake\nof Lucerne, this castle was a favourite resort of Rudolf, who went\nthither, in the intervals of fighting, to hunt the chamois and the deer.\n\nTradition claims that Rudolf once set out for the chase from Neu\nHapsburg, mounted upon his favourite steed, and followed by one squire,\nwho rode an inferior horse, and therefore had some trouble in keeping\nup with his rapid pace. While crossing a beautiful green meadow,\nRudolf\u2019s attention was suddenly attracted by a tinkling sound. His\ncuriosity aroused, he spurred ahead in the direction of the noise,\nand soon beheld a priest carrying the Sacrament, and preceded by a\nsacristan dutifully ringing a little bell.\n\nAt this sight, Rudolf immediately dismounted. Then, kneeling, he did\nrespectful homage to the Blessed Body of our Lord, and in that humble\nposture watched the little procession pass along its way. A few moments\nlater, he sprang up surprised, for the priest had come to a sudden\nstandstill. After a brief period of evident hesitation, Rudolf saw him\nset the Host down upon a neighbouring stone, and begin to remove his\nsandals and gird up his cassock. Hastening toward him, Rudolf perceived\nthat recent heavy rains had so swollen the mountain torrent which\nflowed through the meadow, that the rude bridge had been entirely swept\naway. No other means of crossing being available for many miles, the\npriest had determined to wade through the ice-cold waters, for that was\nhis only chance of reaching the dying man who had begged for the last\nsacrament.\n\nAfter vainly trying to dissuade the priest from a struggle with the\ncold and rushing stream, Rudolf, impressed by the good man\u2019s devotion\nto duty, suddenly offered him his steed. The priest demurred at first,\nbut realising he might not reach his parishioner in time if he had to\nwade through every torrent, he gratefully accepted the offer. Rudolf\nthen helped him mount the fiery steed, and, once safely across the\ntorrent, saw him speed away to the dying man, whom he reached just in\ntime to bestow the last consolations of religion and thus smooth his\npath to the grave.\n\nIn the meantime, Rudolf patiently awaited the coming of his squire,\nthen mounting the latter\u2019s palfrey went on his way. But, early next\nmorning, the priest appeared at Neu Hapsburg, leading the borrowed\nsteed by the bridle, and he warmly expressed his gratitude for the\ntimely loan of a mount whose strength and speed had enabled him to\nreach and comfort a dying man. When he added, however, that he had come\nto restore the animal to its owner, Rudolf impetuously cried: \u201cGod\nforbid that I, or any of my men, should ever use again for war or the\nchase the steed which bore the sacred Body and Blood of our Blessed\nLord!\u201d Then he formally presented the horse to the priest, to have and\nto hold for ever, bidding him use it for the fulfilment of his holy\nduties.\n\nLater, on that selfsame day, Rudolf visited a convent, where a nun\nsuddenly addressed him saying: \u201cMy lord, you honoured the Almighty\nby the timely gift of your horse. This good deed will not remain\nunrewarded, for it has been revealed to me that you and yours will\nattain the highest temporal honors.\u201d\n\nThe castle of Neu Hapsburg was destroyed by the inhabitants of Lucerne\nin 1352, but since then the peasants have declared that the ruins are\nhaunted by the spirits of departed knights and ladies. A peasant girl,\nrowing past there early in the morning and late at night, said she\noften saw a gayly dressed company. Sometimes the knights and ladies\nmade friendly signs to her, but at others the men were all in armour\nand terrified her by their threatening gestures. Encouraged by their\nsigns, she once stepped ashore to watch them play on the grassy slope\nwith disks of bright gold, which she vainly tried to catch in her apron\nand carry home.\n\nThe nun\u2019s prediction to Rudolf was duly fulfilled, for the priest\nwho had received his steed, having become chaplain to the Bishop of\nMayence, used his influence to such good purpose that he secured\nRudolf\u2019s election to the imperial crown of Germany, in 1273. Schiller,\nin his poem \u201cThe Count of Habsburg,\u201d claims that at the coronation\nfeast at Aix-la-Chapelle an aged minstrel brought tears to the eyes of\nall the guests by singing a touching ballad, describing the good deed\nperformed by the new emperor, when he was only a count.\n\nRudolf proved as successful as ambitious while seated on the German\nthrone, but as the imperial crown was elective and not hereditary, he\nsecured for his descendants Austria, Styria, and Carinthia. These\nlands were won during a war with the king of Bohemia, and have ever\nsince formed the patrimony of the Hapsburg race, which has provided\nmany rulers for Europe, America, and India.\n\nWhen Rudolf died in 1291, the imperial crown was disputed by two\ncandidates, until, by the death of one of them, it finally fell\ninto the hands of Albert of Hapsburg, Rudolf\u2019s son. As grasping and\ntyrannical as any of his race, Albert refused to let his nephew\nJohn--the son of an older brother--have the Castle of Hapsburg, which\nwas his by right of inheritance. Embittered by this act of injustice,\nand despairing of redress since the wrong was committed by the emperor\nhimself, John began to plot with several malcontents, biding his time\nuntil he could take his revenge by slaying his uncle.\n\nJohn was not the only one who complained of injustice. The freemen of\nHelvetia also had good cause for resentment. On mounting the imperial\nthrone, Rudolf had refused to confirm Uri\u2019s charter, and his bailiffs\nand stewards ruthlessly exerted the power entrusted to them. Thus,\nthey gradually alienated the peaceful peasants, and drove them to the\nverge of despair. Mindful of their former independence, and weary of\ntyranny and extortion, the principal citizens of the cantons of Uri,\nSchwyz, and Unterwald met, seventeen days after Rudolf\u2019s death, and on\nthe 1st of August, 1291, took a solemn oath to stand by each other and\nresist all foreign intervention, until they had recovered their former\nfreedom. This oath--the corner-stone of the Swiss Confederation--was\nduly sworn by all the principal inhabitants, among which figure men\nwhose names are noted in legend as well as in history.\n\nTradition has richly supplemented the meagre historical data of this\nepoch, thus giving us one of the most romantic, if not authentic,\nchapters of Swiss history. The legend, which gradually arose, has been\nthe theme of Schiller\u2019s tragedy of \u201cWilliam Tell,\u201d of Rossini\u2019s opera\nof the same name, and a source of inspiration for countless poems,\npictures, and statues. Such is the popular belief in the tale, that\nall the most famous places mentioned in it are always pointed out to\nstrangers, and kept alive in the memory of the public by more or less\npicturesque monuments.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE famous Tell legend runs as follows: The stewards and bailiffs of\nthe House of Austria, encouraged by immunity, daily grew more and more\ncruel, until, under the slightest pretext, they thrust Swiss freemen\ninto damp and dark prisons, keeping them there for life. Fearful\nstories of the heartlessness of these bailiffs were noised abroad, and\nno one could speak strongly enough of their greed, cruelty, and total\nlack of principle.\n\nThe Swiss bore this oppression as patiently as they could, and until\ntheir position became so unbearable that they perceived they must\nassert and maintain their rights to freedom, or they would soon be\nreduced to a state of such abject slavery as to be deprived of all\npower of resistance. Walter F\u00fcrst, Arnold von Melchthal, and Werner\nStauffacher, the wealthiest and most respected citizens of the\ncantons of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwald, therefore met to discuss the\nadvisability of an uprisal, and, in support of their views, quoted\nrecent acts of wanton cruelty perpetrated by Austrian bailiffs. For\ninstance, one of these men had grievously insulted the wife of a\npeaceful citizen, who, to defend her, slew the oppressor and was now a\nhunted fugitive.\n\nA young man of Uri was told he must surrender the fine team of oxen\nwith which he was ploughing, because the bailiff wanted them. As the\nmessenger coolly proceeded to taunt him and unyoke his oxen, the young\npeasant, in a frantic effort to save the cattle, dealt a blow which\nraised a terrible outcry among the bailiff\u2019s servants. Knowing that\nsuch an offence would be punished by life-long imprisonment in some\nfoul dungeon, if not by prolonged torture and cruel death, the young\nman hastily fled. But the blow so thoughtlessly given was visited upon\nhis aged father, whose eyes were put out by order of the vindictive\nbailiff.\n\nCountless other examples of fiendish cruelty and wanton oppression\nwere not lacking, and when the three men parted, it was with the\nunderstanding that they were to ascertain how many of their countrymen\nwere willing to help them. They furthermore arranged to meet again,\nOctober 17, 1307, on the Gr\u00fctli or R\u00fctli, a plateau at the foot of the\nSeelisberg, close by the Mythenstein, on the Lake of Lucerne.\n\nOne moonlight night, therefore, three bands of ten picked men, led by\nF\u00fcrst, Stauffacher, and Melchthal wended their way to the Gr\u00fctli, and\nthere beneath the open sky, and in sight of the snow-crowned mountains\ntipped by the first glow of dawn, the leaders, clasping hands, raised\nthree fingers to heaven. In that position they solemnly swore to shake\noff the yoke of the oppressor, their motto being, \u201cOne for all and all\nfor one.\u201d This oath was fervently echoed by the thirty companions they\nhad brought thither, and ere they parted all agreed to be ready to rise\nat a given signal on New Year\u2019s Day, to drive the tyrants out of the\nland for ever.\n\nOn the traditional spot where the Swiss patriots stood while\nregistering this solemn oath, three springs of crystal clear water\nare said to have sprung. The legend further claims that in one of the\nclefts of the Seelisberg the patriots sit, wrapped in slumbers which\nwill remain undisturbed until their country again has need of their\nservices.\n\nSwiss peasants say that the Three Tells--for such is their popular\ndesignation--have been seen several times. A young shepherd, for\ninstance, seeking a stray goat, once came to the entrance of this\nmysterious cave, and beheld three men fast asleep. While staring in\nspeechless amazement at their old-fashioned garb and venerable faces,\none of the sleepers suddenly awoke and asked, \u201cWhat time is it up in\nthe world?\u201d\n\n\u201cHigh noon,\u201d stammered the shepherd, remembering that the sun stood\ndirectly overhead when he entered the cave.\n\n\u201cThen it is not yet time for us to appear,\u201d drowsily remarked the\naged man, dropping off to sleep again.\n\n[Illustration: THE OATH ON THE R\u00dcTLI.]\n\nThe shepherd gazed in silent awe upon the three Tells, then, stealing\nnoiselessly out of the cave, carefully marked the spot, so he could\nfind it again when he wished to return. These precautions were vain,\nhowever, for he and his companions searched every nook and cranny in\nthe mountain, without ever being able to find the entrance to the\ncave of the Swiss Sleepers. But the natives declare that some simple\nherdsman may again stumble upon it by accident, and many believe that\nthe guardians of their country\u2019s liberties will come forth to defend\nthem in case of need.\n\nAmong the patriots who took the oath upon the R\u00fctli, was a man named\nTell, son-in-law of Walter F\u00fcrst, and noted far and wide for his skill\nas a marksman. Strong and sure-footed, Tell delighted in pursuing the\nchamois over almost inaccessible heights, and along the jagged edges of\ndangerous precipices, where a moment\u2019s dizziness or a single misstep\nwould have hurled him down on the rocks hundreds of feet below. Tell\nlived, with his wife and two little sons, in a hut at B\u00fcrglen, in Uri,\non the very spot where a chapel was built in his honour in 1522.\n\nIt came to pass, shortly after the patriots had met on the Gr\u00fctli,\nand before the time set for their uprisal, that Gessler, an Austrian\nbailiff, one of whose castles rose in sight of Hapsburg, determined\nto ascertain by a clever device how many men in Uri were loyal to his\nmaster. He therefore set up a pole in the market-place at Altorf, upon\nwhich he hung a hat,--the emblem of Austrian power,--bidding a herald\nproclaim aloud that all must do homage to it under penalty of death or\nlife-long imprisonment.\n\nThe freemen of Uri were justly incensed when they heard this decree,\nand by common consent avoided passing through the square. When\ncompelled to do so, they resorted to various stratagems to avoid\nobeying Gessler\u2019s orders without forfeiting life or liberty. One of\ntheir devices was to send the priest to take up his position with the\nHost directly under the obnoxious Austrian emblem. Of course, all who\nnow passed by reverently bent the knee; but it was quite evident, even\nto the guards, that the homage was paid to the Sacrament alone, and not\nto the imperial hat.\n\nLiving only a short distance from Altorf, but ignorant of all that\nhad recently happened there, Tell came down to the village one day,\nleading his little son by the hand. Unconscious alike of pole, hat,\nand guards, he strolled across the square, and was greatly surprised\nto find himself suddenly arrested for defying Gessler\u2019s orders. While\nprotesting his innocence, and striving to make the guards release him,\nTell saw Gessler ride by; so, turning toward him, he loudly called for\njustice. The bailiff immediately drew near, and standing in the midst\nof the crowd composed of his attendants and of the startled inhabitants\nof Altorf, he sneeringly listened to Tell\u2019s account of his unjust\narrest.\n\nNow, it happened that Gessler had often heard Tell\u2019s skill as a\nmarksman loudly praised, and that he had long wished to see an\nexhibition of it. He therefore seized this opportunity for gratifying\nboth his curiosity and his cruelty, and promised to set the prisoner\nfree, if he shot an apple from the head of his child at a distance of\none hundred and fifty paces.\n\nAt these words a murmur of indignation arose in the crowd, but such was\nthe fear inspired by the cruel Gessler that none ventured to interfere\nin behalf of Tell, whose prayers and protestations proved alike vain.\nSeeing no other means of escape, and urged by his child, who of his own\naccord ran to place himself against a linden-tree on the spot where\nthe fountain now stands, Tell tremblingly selected two arrows from\nhis quiver. One he hastily thrust in his bosom, the other he carefully\nadjusted in his crossbow; but when he would fain have taken aim, the\nweapon fell from his nerveless hand. Still, a sneer from the bailiff,\nand an encouraging call from his boy, steeled Tell\u2019s heart for this\nawful test of skill. A moment later the child came bounding forward,\nproudly exhibiting the apple transfixed by his father\u2019s dart.\n\nJust as Tell, still dazed by emotion, was about to turn away, Gessler\ncalled him back to inquire why he had drawn two arrows from his\nquiver, when only one shot was required to prove his proficiency. Tell\nhesitated; but when Gessler assured him that he could speak without any\nfear for his life, he hoarsely answered,--\n\n\u201cHad I injured my child, this arrow would have found its goal in your\nheart, for my hand would not have trembled a second time!\u201d\n\nBeside himself with rage at these bold words, Gessler now bade his\nguards bind Tell fast, and convey him immediately down to his waiting\nboat at Fl\u00fchlen, adding that while he would keep his promise not to\nkill Tell, he would nevertheless thrust him into a dungeon where\nneither sun nor moon would ever shine upon him, and where snakes would\nprey upon his living body.\n\n[Illustration: TELL ANSWERS GESSLER.]\n\nPlaced in the boat, with fast-bound hands and feet, his useless\nweapons close beside him, Tell despairingly watched the bailiff embark\nand the shore near Altorf slowly recede. But when the rowers tried to\nround the Axenstein, a sudden tempest swept down on the lake, whipping\nits waters to foam, and bringing skiff and passengers in such imminent\ndanger that there seemed no hope of escape. The boatmen, remembering\nthat Tell was the most clever steersman on the lakeside, now implored\nGessler to let him help, and the prisoner, freed from his bonds,\nquickly seized the rudder.\n\nWith strong arm and fearless gaze he stood there, and boldly directed\nthe boat toward a broad ledge of rock forming a natural landing-place\nat the foot of the Axenberg, at a point where the lake is nearly seven\nhundred feet deep.\n\nAs the boat drew near this place, Tell suddenly let go the rudder,\nand seizing his bow and arrows, sprang ashore! This spot, since known\nas Tellsplatte, is one of the most interesting sites on the Lake of\nLucerne, and in the chapel commemorating this feat there are several\npaintings representing various phases of the legend.\n\nGessler\u2019s boat, hurled back among the seething waves, tossed about in\ngreat danger, although his boatmen now made frantic efforts to save\ntheir own lives. Dreading the bailiff\u2019s vengeance should he manage to\nescape, Tell hastened over the mountains to the Hohle Gasse, or Hollow\nWay, a narrow road between K\u00fcssnacht and Immensee, along which Gessler\nwould have to pass to reach home.\n\nThere, crouching in the bushes on the steep bank, Tell patiently waited\nto see whether his enemy would escape from the perils of the storm.\nBefore long the bailiff appeared, riding at the head of his troop,\nand evidently meditating in what way he could best effect his revenge\nupon Tell. His wicked plans were all cut short, however, for an arrow\nfrom Tell\u2019s bow put a sudden end to his tyrannical career. The spot\nwhere Tell stood and where Gessler fell has long been marked by a\nsmall chapel, decorated with a painting representing this scene. After\nascertaining that Gessler was really dead, Tell fled, making his way\nback to B\u00fcrglen, where he cheered friends and family by the assurance\nthat the tyrant could never trouble them again.\n\nThe story of Swiss independence and of Tell\u2019s brave deeds has been so\nably dramatised by Schiller, that a grateful people have carved his\nname on the Mythenstein, where it may be seen by passengers on the\nboats constantly plying to and fro on the Lake of Lucerne.\n\nBesides the three picturesque chapels known by the name of Tell, where\nanniversary services are held every year, and the huge statue erected\nat Altorf, on the very spot where he shot the apple from the head of\nhis son, Tell\u2019s name has been honoured in poetry, painting, sculpture,\nand song. His death was on a par with the rest of his life, for when\nfar advanced in age, he fearlessly sprang into the Sch\u00e4chen to save\na drowning child. The sudden plunge into the ice-cold waters of this\nmountain stream, and the great exertion required to stem its current,\nso enfeebled the old man that he soon died.\n\n     \u201cAnd thus the great life ended;\n      God!--was it not the best\n      Of all the deeds of valour\n      That won a hero\u2019s rest?\n      So mused I by the Sch\u00e4chen;\n      So say we, true and well\n      That the last deed was the best deed\n      That closed the life of Tell!\u201d\n\n      HENRY MORFORD.[10]\n\n      [10] Poems of Places--Switzerland: Longfellow.\n\nTradition claims that Gessler\u2019s cruel treatment of Tell precipitated\nhistorical events, for when the men of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwald\nheard that Gessler was dead, they gave the agreed signal for a general\nuprising. Then they simultaneously attacked all the Austrian bailiffs,\nslew or drove them away, and razed their castles to the ground, after\nfreeing their captive countrymen.\n\nThis rebellion roused the wrath of the Emperor Albert, who immediately\nset out from Hapsburg Castle to put it down with a heavy hand. But\nwhile crossing the Reuss, in full view of his castle and retainers,\nAlbert was murdered by his nephew John and by four Swiss noblemen, the\nonly persons who were with him. Then the murderers fled, leaving the\nemperor to breathe his last in the arms of a peasant woman who happened\nto be near.\n\nIt is said that, wandering among the mountains, John finally reached\nTell\u2019s cottage at B\u00fcrglen, where he stopped to beg food. Here he\nconfessed what he had done, and was sternly reproved by Tell, who\nproved to him that murdering a relative in revenge for personal\ninjuries and for the sake of selfish gain, was very different from\nkilling a tyrant in self-defence and for the good of one\u2019s country.\n\nAll but one of Albert\u2019s murderers escaped justice; but not content with\nslaying that victim in the most barbarous way, his wife and daughter\npersecuted all the friends and relatives of those who had taken part\nin the crime. More than a thousand of these unfortunates are said to\nhave perished, and it is claimed that Agnes, the emperor\u2019s daughter,\npersonally superintended some of the executions, and rapturously\nexclaimed, \u201cNow I am bathing in May dew!\u201d when she saw their blood flow\nin torrents.\n\nOn the spot where Albert died--the site of the old Roman\nVindonissa--his widow and daughter erected the famous Abbey of\nK\u00f6nigsfelden, which was richly decorated with historical paintings\nand stained-glass windows. About two centuries later the abbey was\nsecularised, and it is now used as an insane asylum; but the principal\nobjects of interest there are still shown to admiring tourists.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nALBERT was succeeded by two emperors who, not belonging to the Hapsburg\nrace, were inclined to help the Swiss. But their brief reigns having\ncome to an end, another Hapsburg was raised to the imperial throne, and\non the 15th of November, 1315, made a determined attempt to conquer the\nSwiss. The latter, however, were lying in wait for his army, which they\nsuddenly attacked while it was hemmed in between Lake \u00c6geri and the\nmountain at Morgarten. Far from expecting such an impetuous onslaught,\nthe imperial forces, notwithstanding all their boasted panoply of war,\nwere completely routed by an inferior number of poorly armed patriots.\nThe latter, impelled by long-pent fury for all the wrongs they had\nendured at the hands of the Austrians, fairly swept them into the lake,\nwhere many of the knights were drowned.\n\nEver since then, at midnight on the anniversary of the battle, it is\nsaid the lake suddenly begins to boil, and that its seething waters\nassume a bloody hue. Then, from the depths of the lake, the spirits\nof all these drowned warriors arise, still clad in full armour and\nbestriding their huge battle steeds. Led by Death on his pale horse,\nbrandishing his scythe and hour-glass, the dead knights march in solemn\nprocession around the lake, plunging back into its waters when the\nclocks in the neighbouring villages strike one.\n\nA memorial chapel, containing a painting representing the famous\nencounter at Morgarten, marks the spot where the battle was fought, and\nsolemn anniversary services are held there every year. This memorable\nvictory won so many adherents for the Swiss in their own land, that\nbefore long the Confederation numbered eight instead of three cantons.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSEVENTY years after Morgarten, the Austrians made a second attempt to\nconquer the Swiss, but they were again defeated at Sempach, on the\nlake of the same name, near Lucerne. At first it seemed as if this\nbattle would prove fatal to the Swiss, for the Austrians were armed\nwith long pikes, which enabled them to make havoc in the ranks of their\nopponents, whose weapons were too short to reach them.\n\nPerceiving his companions fall around him, without being able to strike\na single blow, Arnold von Winkelried suddenly determined to break the\nenemy\u2019s ranks. Calling loudly to his friends to look after his wife and\nchildren, this hero seized an armful of the long Austrian spears, and\ndriving them into his own breast, fell, crying, \u201cMake way for liberty!\u201d\nHis countrymen, pouring into the breach he had thus made at the expense\nof his life, attacked the enemy with such fury that they soon won a\nbrilliant victory.\n\nThe battle of Sempach is commemorated by a monument, upon which stands\nthe simple inscription: \u201cHier hat Winkelried den seinen eine Gasse\ngemacht.\u201d 1386. (Winkelried here made a way for his friends).\n\nAt Stanz, in Unterwald, the birthplace of Winkelried, a fine statue\nrepresents his heroic death. The Austrian spears clasped in a last\nembrace, he turns his dying glance upon his countrymen, urging them\nto rush over his prostrate body against their country\u2019s foe. On the\nanniversary of the battle a ghostly voice is heard in the castle at\nRichensee, dolefully calling, \u201cConrad! Conrad!\u201d In answer to this cry,\na knight in black armour, with ghastly wounds in head and breast,\nsuddenly appears on the ruined tower, and as though responding to a\nroll-call, gruffly answers, \u201cHere, Austria!\u201d\n\nThis apparition is said to be a lord of the castle, who fell at\nSempach, fighting for Austria as bravely as one of his ancestors who\nlost his life in that cause at Morgarten.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAN outpost of the mighty Alps, Mount Pilatus, on the boundary of the\ncantons of Lucerne and Unterwald, is one of the most picturesque\nfeatures of that region.\n\n[Illustration: LUCERNE, WITH MT. PILATUS.\n\n(Old View.)]\n\nIn the days of Roman occupation a light-house (_lucerna_) is said to\nhave shone on the spot where the Wasserthurm now stands, and to have\ngiven its name to canton, lake, and town. At that epoch Mount Pilatus\nwas known as Mons Fractus, Fracmont, or the Broken Mountain, owing to\nthe jagged crag-like appearance of its summit. This descriptive name,\nhowever, was gradually supplanted by another, equally appropriate, that\nheight--seldom free from clouds--being called Mons Pileatus, or the\nCapped Mountain. Every storm coming from the north or west gathers\naround this majestic peak, which serves as a natural barometer for all\nthe people dwelling within sight of it. According to a very old and\nequally popular rhyme, the weather probabilities are that the day will\nbe fair if the clouds merely rest upon the mountain top; when they\nextend part way down, it is well to be prepared for sudden changes;\nbut should trails of mist reach far down Pilatus\u2019 rugged sides, it is\nconsidered an infallible sign of a coming storm. In its oldest form\nthis rhyme runs:--\n\n\n     \u201cDas Wetter fein und gut\n      Wann Pilatus hat \u2019nen Hut;\n      Tr\u00e4gt er einen Degen\n      So gibt es Regen.\u201d\n\nIn the course of time this jingle has undergone sundry modifications,\nuntil the English version now reads:--\n\n     \u201cIf Pilatus wears his cap, serene will be the day;\n      If his collar he puts on, you may venture on the way;\n      But if his sword he wields, at home you\u2019d better stay.\u201d\n\nWith the introduction of Christianity, and the substitution of the\nvernacular for the Latin language, the original meaning of _pileatus_\nwas entirely forgotten. The natives therefore soon began to claim\nthat the mountain was named after Pontius Pilate, the unscrupulous\ngovernor of Judea who sentenced our Saviour to death. Little by little\nthis belief gave rise to the picturesque legend connected with this\nlocality, which, owing to numerous accretions, is singularly complete\nand interesting.\n\nIn the second century after Christ, there already existed an apocryphal\nEpistle of Pilate, containing his account of the trial and condemnation\nof Jesus Christ.[11] Warned by his wife, Procla, who had \u201csuffered many\nthings in a dream because of him,\u201d and by sundry miracles enumerated\nin his epistle, Pilate, convinced of the divine origin as well as of\nthe innocence of the Prisoner brought before him, nevertheless weakly\nyielded to the threats of a few among the Jews, and condemned our Lord\nto an ignominious death. A moral coward, Pilate next sought to escape\nthe natural consequences of his pusillanimous compliance by publicly\nwashing his hands, and solemnly crying, \u201cI am innocent of the blood of\nthis just person; see ye to it.\u201d\n\n      [11] For the Pilate legend see the author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the\n           Virgin and Christ.\u201d\n\nPilate\u2019s report and various other rumours concerning the death and\nresurrection of Christ, together with frequent bitter complaints of\nextortion and misgovernment, finally reached the ears of Tiberius.\nMoved by anger and curiosity, this emperor immediately summoned the\naccused official to Rome to render a minute account of his stewardship.\nBut before Pilate could reach the Eternal City, Tiberius died and was\nsucceeded by Caligula, who, equally incensed against the faithless\ngovernor, loudly boasted that he would make very short work of his\ntrial. The Roman courtiers were therefore seized with unbounded\nastonishment when they beheld their savage master treat Pontius Pilate\nwith every mark of extreme courtesy, and heard the mild and gentle\ntones in which he addressed him. But no sooner had Pilate left the\ntribunal than all Caligula\u2019s wrath flamed up anew, and he peremptorily\nordered the delinquent governor to be brought in again.\n\nWhen Pilate stood before his irate judge, the latter, suddenly and\nmysteriously soothed, once more overwhelmed him with tokens of the\nhighest favour instead of punishing him as he wished. The courtiers\u2019\nwonder grew apace, nor did it diminish when, after Pilate\u2019s second\nexit, the emperor breathed forth curses and threats even more violent\nthan before. Summoned a third time with the same baffling result,\nCaligula, convinced that Pilate must be protected by some amulet of\ngreat power, bade his courtiers carefully search the Judean governor\nere they brought him into his presence for a fourth and last time.\n\nIn executing these orders, the courtiers discovered that Pilate wore\nunder his usual garments the \u201cseamless robe\u201d of Our Lord, which he had\npurchased from the soldier to whom it had fallen by lot. Stripped of\nthis talisman, Pilate stood before Caligula, who, no longer restrained\nfrom anger and vituperation by the presence of the holy relic, poured\nout all the vials of his wrath upon the prisoner\u2019s head, and sentenced\nhim to an ignominious death.\n\nTo avoid the jeers of the Roman mob, and the disgrace of a public\nexecution, Pilate is said to have committed suicide in his prison\nby stabbing himself with his table-knife. His corpse--as was then\ncustomary in cases of self-murder--was cast into the Tiber. But the\nwaters, refusing to suffer such pollution, rose with unprecedented fury\nand overflowed their banks, while the thunder rolled, the lightning\nflashed, and the earth shook with such violence that all hearts were\nfilled with awe. The terrified Romans therefore hastened to consult\ntheir oracles, and learning that the dreadful tumult was occasioned by\nPilate\u2019s corpse, they quickly withdrew it from the Tiber, whose fury\nimmediately subsided as if by magic. To dispose of the body,--which\ncould not be buried in the usual way,--it was now cast into the\nMediterranean Sea. But there, too, its presence caused such dire\ncommotion that to ward off further misfortunes it was again removed.\n\nFinding earth and water equally loath to harbour such an abhorred\ntenant, the Romans, remembering they owed a grudge to the inhabitants\nof Vienne, in Gaul, carefully placed Pilate\u2019s corpse upon a barge, and\nsent it up the Rh\u00f4ne. Arrived at Vienne, the Roman envoys obediently\ncast the body into the deepest spot in the river. But its presence\nthere caused such damages that the frightened inhabitants hastened to\nforward it on to Lausanne. The same unpleasant phenomena recurring\nthere also, Pilate\u2019s remains were finally sent out into the wilderness,\nfar from the haunts of men. After carrying them for many days up hill\nand down dale, the bearers finally reached an almost inaccessible\nmountain. Convinced that this point was sufficiently remote from\ncivilisation to satisfy all reasonable requirements, they cast their\nuncanny burden into a small lake at the foot of a barren peak, and\nhastened away as quickly as they could. Still, it was only with the\nutmost difficulty that they managed to reach home, for no sooner had\nPilate\u2019s body touched the waters of the lonely tarn, than it stirred up\nsuch a tempest as had never before been seen in that region.\n\nNight and day, year in and year out, the storm went on raging around\nthe lonely mountain-top, filling with awe the hearts of the simple\npeasant-folk who dwelt in the neighbouring valleys. They too soon\nlonged to be rid of the unquiet spirit, but could find no people\nwilling to harbour a ghost which raged round the mountain, waded about\nthe lake until it overflowed, stormed up and down the jagged rocks\nhowling with fear and remorse, and which occasionally indulged in\nfearful wrestling-bouts with the spirit of King Herod, or those of\nother famous malefactors. Even in his comparatively quiet moments,\nPilate was dreaded, for then he sat aloft on the G\u00fcppe,--one of the\npeaks of the mountain,--grimly conjuring new storms, washing his hands\nin the dripping clouds, and shaking huge rain-drops from his trembling\nfingers down upon the fertile pastures below him. None of the shepherds\ndared venture near him, because he stampeded their flocks by his\nviolent gestures, and often hurled cows and goats over the precipices\nand down on the sharp rocks, where they were dashed to pieces.\n\nYears, therefore, passed by without Pilate\u2019s being molested in any way;\nbut at last there came a travelling scholar, who, having mastered the\nBlack Art at Salamanca, was fully competent to deal with spirits of all\nkinds. The people no sooner heard of his unusual accomplishments than\nthey crowded around him, eagerly imploring him to cast a quieting spell\nupon Pilate\u2019s restless ghost, and proffering rich rewards if he would\nonly put an end to their woes.\n\nThus urged, the magician consented to try his skill. Journeying up\nthe mountain, he came, after several hours of hard climbing, to the\nfoot of the peak upon which Pontius Pilate sat watching his approach\nwith lowering brows. Placing himself upon a large stone, the conjurer\ndrew a magic circle around him, and then began his incantations.\nBut even his most powerful formulas left Pilate unmoved, although\nthey made the rocks around him quiver and shake as if about to fall.\nWhen the magician perceived this, he changed his position to a peak\ndirectly opposite the one Pilate had chosen for his favourite seat,\nand undismayed by his first failure, again began reciting all the most\npotent exorcisms he knew. This time they were not without effect, for\nPilate suddenly rose in anger from his rocky throne and rushed toward\nthe intruder as if to sweep him off the face of the earth. But balked\nof this amiable intention by the magic circle, instead of whisking the\nmagician off into space, Pilate could only rage around and around him,\ntrampling the ground with such fury that no grass can even now grow on\nthat spot. Indeed, his mere footprints laid such a curse upon the soil\nthat no dew has fallen upon it, nor any animal ventured to cross it\nsince that day!\n\nAfter careering thus wildly around the scholar for some time, Pilate\u2019s\nghost, weakening perceptibly, finally agreed to retire to the tarn high\nup the mountain side. There he promised to remain in peace, provided\nno one wantonly disturbed his rest, and he was allowed to range the\nmountain at will one day in the year.\n\nThe exorcist having consented to this stipulation, Pilate further\nproved he had not sojourned among the Jews in vain, by carefully\nbargaining that a steed should be provided to bear him off in state\nto his last resting-place. The Salamancan scholar therefore called up\nfrom the depths a flame-breathing steed of the blackest hue, which bore\nPontius Pilate off at a truly infernal pace. As they dashed over the\nrocks, the steed\u2019s clattering hoofs struck out so many sparks that the\nmountain was illumined from base to summit, and it stamped so hard that\nthe marks of its flying feet can still be seen in the rocks near the\ntarn.\n\nArriving there, Pontius Pilate vanished in the depths of the lake, or\nmorass, where he quietly stayed, thus honestly keeping his part of the\nagreement. Since then, unless disturbed by sceptics coming to mock at\nhim, or cast sticks and stones into his retreat, Pilate has quietly\nreposed in the depths of his lake. But although sure to resent any mark\nof disrespect, by rising to stir up a fearful storm, his spirit has\nalways been sufficiently discriminating to make no demonstration when\nhis rest is broken by accident or through ignorance.\n\nSuch was the dread of rousing Pilate\u2019s wrath, that the magistrates of\nLucerne solemnly issued a decree forbidding all strangers to visit the\ntarn. They also made all the herdsmen take a yearly oath not to guide\nany foreigner thither, or to point out the road which led there. Any\ninfringement of this edict was punished with the utmost severity, as\ncan still be seen in the annals of Lucerne; and the law remained in\nforce until 1585, the time of the Reformation.\n\nThen a doughty pastor prevailed upon the magistrates to repeal their\nedict, and climbed up to the tarn. There he convinced all the people\nthat there was no further cause for their superstitious fears, by\nflinging stones into the water, calling out every imaginable insult,\nand boldly challenging Pilate\u2019s ghost to rise and do its worst.\n\nPilate\u2019s spirit, banned by the Salamancan student, has ever since\nbeen said to rise only on Good Friday. Clad in purple, he then sits\nupon a judgment seat, which comes up out of the lake, and repeats in\npantomime the actions he performed on the fatal and memorable day when\nhe sentenced Christ to the cross. Then, too, Pilate always washes\nhis shaking hands, in the futile effort to cleanse himself from all\nshare in that deadly sin; and any wanderer who, by choice or accident,\ngazes at his distorted features at that time is sure to die within the\nyear. On Good Friday, too, Pilate often rages around the mountain in\ndespairing remorse, but at midnight he invariably sinks down again into\nhis morass.\n\nThere are numerous variations of this legend, one of which claims that\nPilate ruled in Vienne, where he committed suicide by casting himself\ninto the Rh\u00f4ne. Another version says that, full of remorse for his\ncrime, he wandered from place to place, until in despair he finally\ndrowned himself in the lake on the mountain bearing his name.\n\nSuch was the terror inspired by this mountain, and the difficulty of\nreaching its summit, that the first ascension is said to have taken\nplace only in 1518. As one can seldom obtain a clear view even after\nbearing the fatigue of such an arduous climb, it was rarely visited\nby strangers until the wonderful railway was built which now enables\ntravellers to reach its top with the utmost ease. Since then Mount\nPilatus has become a favourite goal for excursions, and those who have\nonce beheld the extensive panorama visible from its crest can never\nforget the marvellous view, which, extending as far as the eye can\nreach, includes glaciers, mountains, valleys, streams, and lakes, not\nto mention picturesque towns, villages, churches, and castles, which\nabound in that section of the country.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBESIDES the legend from which Mount Pilatus is popularly supposed to\nhave derived its name, many others are told relating to various points\non the mountain. For instance, it is said that a cooper from Lucerne\nonce climbed up its rocky sides in quest of wood for barrel hoops and\nstaves, and fell into a deep gully whose sides were so high and steep\nthat he could not get out of it again. The soil at the bottom was so\nsoft and slimy that the cooper, uninjured by his fall, next tried to\nmake his way out by following the bottom of this cleft. He could find\nno issue, however, but finally came to a sort of tunnel in the rocks.\nEntering boldly, he suddenly found himself face to face with a couple\nof huge, fire-breathing dragons. A hasty sign of the cross, and a\nfervent, if trembling prayer for the Virgin\u2019s protection, effectively\nclosed the mouths of the dragons already gaping wide to devour him, and\ntransformed them into gentle creatures which fawned upon him, humbly\nlicking his hands and feet. Their manners were so ingratiating that the\ncooper soon ceased to fear them, and sitting down beside them, spent\nsix months in their company, feeding as they did upon a salty substance\nwhich exuded from a crack in the rocks.\n\nWinter over, the dragons, who had lain supine in the cave all that\ntime, wriggled slowly out into the gorge, where they began stretching\nand shaking themselves, spreading and furling their wings, as if\nto make sure their pliancy had not suffered from a long period of\ninaction. Then the amazed cooper suddenly beheld one of the monsters\nrise straight up into the air, and once out of the deep cleft, fly in\nwide circles far above his head and finally pass out of sight.\n\nThe second dragon soon after showing signs of a desire to follow its\nmate, the cooper promptly grasped it by the tail, and was whisked up\nout of the abyss, but gently set down again on a soft grass plot near\nthe city of Lucerne. On entering that town, he was rapturously welcomed\nby his friends, who, after vainly seeking him on the mountain, had\ngiven him up as dead.\n\nIn token of gratitude for his marvellous preservation, and safe return\nto his native city, the cooper gave a communion service to the church\nof St. Leodegarius in 1420. On this service is a quaint representation\nof his adventure with the dragons on Mount Pilatus. The legend\ndeclares, however, that, unable to digest common viands after living so\nlong upon the dragons\u2019 mysterious food, the cooper died of starvation\ntwo months after his return to Lucerne.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nANOTHER legend claims that a peasant from Lucerne once beheld a dragon\nrise slowly from the Rigi and fly heavily towards Mount Pilatus. Gazing\nin open-mouthed astonishment at this wonderful sight, the peasant next\nsaw the monster drop something, and when sufficiently recovered from\nhis terror to investigate what it might be, he discovered it was a huge\nclot of blood in which lay imbedded a precious stone.\n\nThis jewel was found in time to possess wonderful curative powers, for\na mere touch of it healed victims of the pest and of other equally\nfatal diseases. The Dragonstone was, therefore, carefully preserved in\nthe city, where it can still be seen, although for some time past its\nmedicinal powers are said to have deserted it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWHILE the summit of Mount Pilatus is quite barren, the lower slopes\nprovide pasture for large herds of cows and goats which graze there\nunder the care of their herdsmen. One of the highest and finest\npastures is the Br\u00fcndlisalp, near which is a cave known as the\nDominikh\u00f6hle or Dominican\u2019s Grotto. A huge rock bearing the rough\nsemblance of a human form stands at the entrance to this cave.\n\nAccording to tradition, a mountain giant was once posted in this grotto\nto keep watch over the region round about, and give the people due\nnotice of the approach of any foe. When an enemy drew near, he gave the\nalarm; then, placing himself at the head of the natives, attacked the\nfoe with such strength and fury that he always secured the victory for\nhis country.\n\nBut a day finally came when the Swiss, who had never borne arms except\nto defend themselves against the incursions of strangers, suddenly\nfound themselves unable to agree, and resorting to force, began a civil\nwar. Feeling strife in the air, the giant rushed out of his cave to\nascertain what was the matter. But when he beheld brother armed against\nbrother, saw the Swiss attack each other with rage, and viewed their\nblood flow in torrents, he was so horror-struck that his cry died on\nhis lips, his blood froze in his veins, and he stood there immovable,\nturned into stone! Ever since then, the petrified giant at the entrance\nof the Dominican Cave is pointed out as an emblem of patriotism and as\na solemn warning against civil strife.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMOUNT PILATUS is said to have long been the home of countless little\ngnomes who hid in every nook and crevice and under every stone. These\ndwarfs were about eighteen inches high, and wore long green mantles to\nconceal the fact that they had goose-shaped feet. Bright red caps were\njauntily perched on top of their snow-white hair, while long beards\nof the same colour flowed down over their breasts. The gnomes not only\nwatched over the chamois, bounding from rock to rock, but tended the\nfish sporting in the depths of the mountain streams, and protected all\ngame from the greed of wanton sportsmen.\n\nThese gnomes were so obliging that they cheerfully helped the herdsmen\nwatch and tend their cattle, milk the cows, make butter or cheese, and\nin exchange for their manifold services merely required a small bowlful\nof milk or cream. Gentle and helpful as long as they were treated\nkindly, the gnomes were sure to revenge themselves upon any mortals who\nill-treated them or their prot\u00e9g\u00e9s, or hurt their feelings by trying to\nget a sight of their misshapen feet.\n\nA rich peasant once pastured his cattle high up on the beautiful\nKastelnalp, on Mount Pilatus, where the grass was so rich that the cows\nhad to be milked three times a day. Magdalen, the only daughter of a\nwidowed cousin, once painfully made her way up to this alp to beg for a\nlittle help for her sick mother, who had neither food nor medicine in\nthe house. The rich man, who had provisions in plenty, and who stored\naway cheese after cheese in his cellars, nevertheless refused to help\nhis poor relatives, and sent Magdalen home empty-handed and in tears.\n\nOvertaken on her way down the mountain by a sudden thunder-storm, the\ngirl sought shelter in the hut of her lover, a herdsman to whom she\nconfided all her sorrows. A generous, noble-hearted fellow, Alois\nno sooner heard of his sweetheart\u2019s destitution and disappointment\nthan he ran to get a small cheese, the only food he had in the house,\nand forced her to accept it for her starving mother. The storm over,\nMagdalen set out again with lightened heart, but her foot suddenly\nslipping on the wet grass, she let go the precious cheese, which,\nbounding from rock to rock, rolled over the edge of a precipice, into\nwhose depths it disappeared.\n\nMagdalen\u2019s tears now flowed afresh; but while she sat there wringing\nher hands in despair, she suddenly felt a twitch at her dress. Looking\ndown, she there beheld one of the tiny mountain spirits, carrying a\nsmall cheese upon his shoulder, and holding a bundle of medicinal herbs\nin his hand.\n\n\u201cWeep no longer,\u201d the little man gently said. \u201cThe hard-hearted owner\nof the Kastelnalp shall be duly punished for his refusal to help you.\nIn the meantime take these herbs, which will restore your mother\u2019s\nhealth, and I am sure both you and she will enjoy this cheese.\u201d\n\nThe little man then vanished, leaving his gifts behind him, and\nMagdalen hastened joyfully home. Her first care was to prepare herb\ntea for the patient, whose health was miraculously restored as soon\nas she had tasted it. But when Magdalen tried to cut the cheese the\nkind-hearted gnome had given her, she was amazed to find it was a solid\nlump of pure gold! She and her mother were so rich with this treasure\nthat they soon purchased the Br\u00fcndlisalp, where Magdalen and Alois, a\nhappy husband and wife, tended their flocks together.\n\nAs for the hard-hearted owner of the Kastelnalp, he was justly punished\nfor his lack of charity. The sudden rain-storm, loosening the rocks\nabove his pasture, started a landslide which covered his alp with such\na mass of loose stones that not a blade of grass has ever been seen on\nit since. Besides this, a fragment of rock struck the owner as he fled,\nand breaking both his legs, left him so badly crippled that he never\nwalked without crutches again.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAS picturesque as Mount Pilatus, although in a different way, and far\nmore accessible for pedestrians, the Rigi has long been a centre of\nattraction for travellers from all parts of the world. Before the two\nrailways were built, which now carry passengers up to the mountain-top\nin less than an hour and a half, ascensions were frequently made on\nfoot or on horseback. This climb was cheerfully undertaken in hopes\nof enjoying the marvellous views obtainable from many points on the\nmountain, and the vast panorama, with changing hues at sunset and\nsunrise, which can best be seen from the mountain\u2019s crest.\n\n[Illustration: THE RIGI]\n\nThe slopes of the Rigi are now all covered with orchards and rich\npastures, for although snow frequently falls on its summit even in\nmid-summer, it never lingers there long, owing to the warm rays of the\nsun striking directly upon it. There are countless points of interest\nto be seen on this mountain, but the most characteristic of all its\nlegends is connected with the gushing spring of ice-cold water at\nRigi-Kaltbad.\n\nWe are told that in the days when Austrian bailiffs still exercised\ntheir tyranny over the land, three lovely sisters dwelt in the Arth\nvalley at the foot of the Rigi. Not content with despoiling these\ndefenceless maidens of all their worldly goods, the bailiff of\nSchwanau, although aware that they loathed him, persecuted them with\nhis unwelcome attentions, and even attempted to rob them of their\nhonour.\n\nIn their terror lest they should become victims of this evil man\u2019s\nlust, the sisters fled from Arth one night, and boldly rushed into the\ndense forest which then covered all the slopes of the mountain. The\nwild beasts abounding in that region seemed to these helpless maidens\nfar less to be dreaded than the human beast whose pursuit they were\ntrying to escape. They therefore bravely threaded their way up the Rigi\nby the dim light of the stars, nor paused in their flight until they\nreached a sheltered plateau high up on the mountain.\n\nExposed to the southern sun, and provided with a spring of crystalline\nwater flowing plentifully from the rocks near by, this place seemed\nso remote from mankind, and so fitted by nature to serve as a safe\nretreat, that the three sisters determined to spend the rest of their\nlives there. They therefore built a little hut of bark stripped from\nthe trunks of fallen trees and of wattled branches, and gathering moss\nfor their beds, spent summer and winter there in utter seclusion. The\nberries and edible roots collected on the mountain side were their only\nfood, while the sparkling water from the fountain served as their sole\nbeverage. In their gratitude for escaping from their cruel persecutor,\nthe sisters, who had always been remarkable for their piety, spent\nmost of their days and part of their nights in praising God for their\ndeliverance, fervently praying that they might live and die in the\nservice of their Maker.\n\nAlthough entirely cut off from mankind,--for no one ever ventured so\nfar up the mountain then,--and notwithstanding the cold and the other\nprivations they had to endure, the sisters dwelt here year after year,\nwithout a murmur over their hard fate. Such was their piety, that the\nangels kept constant watch over them, and finally bore their sinless\nsouls to heaven, leaving three lambent flames to hover over their\ntenantless bodies.\n\nIn the meantime no one knew what had become of the three girls who\nhad vanished so mysteriously from the Arth valley, and their former\nfriends, gazing up at Mount Rigi, little suspected that those tender\nmaidens were even then living like hermits far above their heads. When\nthe sisters died, however, the miraculous lights hovering over their\nbodies were distinctly perceived from various parts of the lake and\nvalley, greatly rousing the curiosity of all who saw them. Night after\nnight the lights twinkled up there in undiminished brightness, until\nthe stars paled and the sun rose, flooding mountain, lake, and valley\nwith its golden beams.\n\nThinking some holy hermit must have built his cell up there, and\nwishing to satisfy their curiosity as well as secure his blessing,\nsome herdsmen determined to make their way up the mountain in spite of\npathless forests and dense undergrowth. After a long and arduous climb,\nthey finally reached the plateau, where they were amazed to find a hut\nshowing signs of prolonged occupation, but now fast falling into ruins.\nIn searching for further traces of the supposed hermit, they suddenly\ndiscovered the bodies lying side by side near the ever-flowing spring,\nand beheld the three flames float slowly upward and vanish into the\nblue sky.\n\nAwed by this miracle, the herdsmen reverently buried the three corpses,\nand over the spot where they rested, built a rustic chapel which was\nfirst dedicated to the Virgin Mary and then to the archangel St.\nMichael. A church now stands on this hallowed spot, which is frequently\nvisited by pilgrims, as well as by those who come to Rigi-Kaltbad for\nhealth or for pleasure. The spring, which still gushes from the rock,\nwas long known as the Schwesternborn, in memory of the pious sisters,\nwhose sinless lives and death cast a glamour of romance over that spot.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ruins of the Castle of Schwanau, on the island of the same name,\nin the Lake of Lowertz, at the foot of the Rigi, are connected with\nthe above legend, because here lived the cruel persecutor from whom\nthe pious sisters fled. Not content with driving these girls away from\nhome, the Lord of Schwanau once kidnapped a maiden from Arth, whom he\ncarried by force into this castle, where she vainly tried to escape\nfrom his clutches. This lady, however, was not entirely destitute of\nmale protectors, and when her brothers heard how she had been treated,\nthey sallied forth in anger and slew her ravisher. Then calling the\nfreemen of Schwyz to their aid, they captured and destroyed the castle,\nleaving it a mass of smoking ruins, with only one tower standing to\nserve as a monument of the Lord of Schwanau\u2019s crimes and of their\nrevenge.\n\nIt is said that although the cruel kidnapper was slain nearly six\nhundred years ago, his spirit can still find no rest. Every year, at\nmidnight, on the anniversary of the day when the frantic girl rushed\nwildly through the castle to escape his pursuit, a flash of lightning\nand a deep roll of thunder herald his return to the scene of his crime.\nSuddenly he appears in the midst of the ruins, where he stands, quaking\nwith fear, until a maiden, clad in white and bearing a flaming torch,\nrushes out of the tower. Then the bailiff utters a blood-curdling cry\nof terror, and turning, races madly from one part of the castle to the\nother, closely pursued by his innocent victim. Over crumbling stones,\nup and down the ruined tower, through former passages and along ruined\nbattlements, pursuer and pursued hasten with flying steps, until,\nseeing no other hope of escape, the Lord of Schwanau, with a last mad\nshriek, plunges from the parapet into the lake, whose dark waters close\nwith a dull splash over his head. Then the avenging maiden vanishes,\nnot to be seen again until the hour strikes when she must once more\nsally forth to torture the bailiff for his heinous crime.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nANOTHER legend, also connected with the Lake of Lowertz, claims that\na church once stood very near the edge of the water. There, while\nthe women and children of the neighbourhood knelt within its holy\nprecincts, Sunday after Sunday, dutifully reciting their prayers, the\nmen sat on the church steps, smoking, drinking, and gambling. Such was\ntheir lack of respect for religion and the divine service, that they\neven swore out loud, and flung their dice down upon the stones with\nsuch violence that the noise often drowned all sounds of prayer and\npraise.\n\nThese wicked men, who mocked at the priest whenever he tried to make\nthem change their evil ways, were, however, to be sorely punished for\ntheir sacrilegious behaviour. One Sunday, while gambling on the church\nsteps as usual, a sudden storm swept over the little lake, and before\nthey could gather up their dice or scramble to their feet, a huge wave\nswept right over their heads. At the same moment the church sank down\ninto the depths of the lake, where it still lies many fathoms under\nwater. Some of the local boatmen claim that the top of the church spire\ncan still be seen when the water is clear, and that at the wonted hour\nfor worship the bells can always be heard ringing a soft and musical\npeal. Then the sound of prayer and praise becomes faintly audible,\nand very keen ears can distinguish a rattle of dice and muttered\noaths. The women and children are said to be perfectly happy in their\nendless adoration, but the men are compelled to continue for ever the\nsacrilegious game which has become prolonged and unbearable torture.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLEAVING the city of Stanz and going up the Aa valley, toward the\nTitlis, which forms the boundary between the cantons of Uri and\nBern, you pass Engelberg, and the S\u00fcrenenalp, of which the following\ncharacteristic legends are told.\n\nCount Conrad von Seldenb\u00fcren, in a moment of great danger, made a\nsolemn vow that he would build a monastery should he escape unharmed.\nSaved from his imminent peril, he immediately prepared to keep his\npromise, and with that purpose in view, set out with a number of his\nfriends and retainers to select a site for the projected building.\n\nRiding along the valley, he drew rein from time to time to admire the\nlovely landscape, and to inhale the perfumed breezes wafted down from\nthe surrounding mountains. There were so many charming spots that\nConrad, quite bewildered by the choice, finally breathed a fervent\ninward prayer for divine guidance. Looking up a moment later, he\nsuddenly beheld an angel host sweep down through the blue sky. They\nalighted on a neighbouring eminence, where the celestial choir intoned\na hymn of praise, their voices faintly reaching Conrad\u2019s ear and\nfilling his heart with ineffable bliss.\n\nThe hymn ended, the angels again rose up into heaven; but Conrad,\noverjoyed by the miracle vouchsafed him, loudly declared that not only\nshould the monastery be built on the hill upon which the angels had\nrested, but that it should ever after be known as the Engelberg, or\nAngels\u2019 Mountain.\n\nFounded in 1119, the Engelberg Abbey soon became rich and prosperous,\nfor the monks owned all the pastures around there, and had so many\nhead of cattle that they stored away countless cheeses in their great\ncellars. The choicest of all their grazing grounds were, however, on\nthe S\u00fcrenenalp, where they sent their herdsmen with their finest cattle.\n\nOne of these men is said to have developed a special affection for a\nsilvery-white sheep entrusted to his care, which followed him wherever\nhe went, and so became a great pet. His fondness for the creature\nbecame such that he finally baptized it with holy water stolen from\nthe monastery chapel. He did this, hoping to preserve it from all\nharm; but no sooner was the sacrilegious ceremony accomplished than\nthe silvery-fleeced sheep, transformed into a raging monster, fiercely\nattacked shepherds and flocks, and drove them away from the rich\npastures. Such was the fear inspired by this creature--which no weapon\ncould wound--that the peasants, one and all, refused to venture up\nthe mountain, and even the much frequented S\u00fcrenen Pass was entirely\ndeserted.\n\nThe monks of Engelberg, unable to use their pastures themselves, or to\nderive any income by renting them out to others, finally sold them for\na mere song to the people of Uri. The latter, thrifty in the extreme,\ncould not bear the thought that the fine grass on the S\u00fcrenenalp was\ngoing to waste, so they tried various devices to kill or capture the\ndemoniacal sheep. Weapons, prayers, and exorcisms proving equally\nunavailing, they finally bespoke the good offices of a travelling\nscholar, who had studied the Black Art under no less capable an\ninstructor than Satan himself.\n\nAfter sundry liberal potations of the warm southern wine brought by the\nUrners from Italy over the famous St. Gothard and Furka passes, and\nafter duly securing a pocketful of gold, the magician gave the people\nminute directions, assuring them that if carefully carried out they\nwould settle the obnoxious sheep for ever.\n\nBy his directions, the Urners selected a snow-white bull, which was fed\nwith the milk of one cow during the first year, and with that of two\nduring the second. Increasing the rations of this animal at the rate\nof a cow per year, the bull in the ninth year was consuming the entire\nproduce of nine cows, and had grown to a prodigious size.\n\nThe ninth year ended, a virgin from Attinghausen, carefully arrayed in\nbridal white, was told to lead the chosen bull to the S\u00fcrenenalp. Her\nlittle hand passed through the ring set in the bull\u2019s nose, this maiden\nslowly wended her way up the mountain, followed by the bull, which\nobeyed her slightest touch. When they reached the choicest pasture, the\nmaiden suddenly let go her charge, for the monster sheep stood very\nnear and about to attack her. At the same moment the bull thundered\npast her with lowered horns, and rushing toward the christened sheep\nbegan a terrible fight. The mountain shook and groaned beneath the\ntrampling feet of the animals, which wrestled together with locked\nhorns, while black clouds loomed up over the pasture, blotting out the\nbright sunshine, and making the air oppressively hot and close.\n\nThe darkness soon grew so intense that the people in the valley could\nno longer distinguish either trembling maiden or struggling monsters.\nAll at once a dazzling flash of lightning rent the black clouds\nasunder, and it was instantly followed by a peal of thunder so loud and\nprolonged that the peasants, ducking their heads between their knees in\nterror, tightly closed their eyes.\n\nWhen they again ventured to look up, they fairly gasped with amazement,\nfor the blue sky again arched above the alp, the storm clouds were\nrapidly drifting away, and golden sunbeams flooded the spot where bull\nand sheep had met.\n\nNo trace of cattle or maiden being visible, the peasants, after some\nhesitation, timidly ventured up the mountain to see what had become of\nboth. On the grass they found a bloody and trampled mound of flesh,\nwhich upon investigation proved to be the remains of the accursed\nsheep, but the maiden had vanished for ever, leaving no trace. On the\nbanks of the Aawasser, quite near its source, they further discovered\nthe body of the snow-white bull, which, having drank too greedily of\nthe ice-cold waters while overheated from his exertions, had met with a\nsudden but natural death.\n\nSince then, the place where the bull expired has been known as the\nBull\u2019s Stream, or the Steersbrook, and cows, sheep, and goats have\nfeasted unmolested upon the luscious pastures on the S\u00fcrenenalp.\nBesides, in grateful recognition for the white bull\u2019s services, the\npeople of Uri placed his head upon a shield, decreeing that ever after\nthe head of a bull should grace the official seal of the canton of Uri\nand form its sole coat of arms.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAT the northern extremity of the canton of Uri, and at the point\nwhere the Lake of Lucerne makes a sudden southward bend, rises the\nSeelisberg, renowned alike for its beautiful scenery and rich pastures.\nHere once dwelt a peasant who, having won the good-will of the mountain\ndwarfs, often received their help. The herdsman, in return for their\nfavours, lavished upon them the best of all he had, and when called\naway by urgent business, often left them in charge of ch\u00e2let and herd.\n\nThe mountain dwarfs could always be trusted to see to everything,\nprovided the F\u00f6hn, or south wind, did not blow. But whenever the breath\nof that strong wind swept over the glaciers, they one and all crept far\ndown into the bowels of the earth; whence they did not emerge until it\nceased to rage.\n\nOnce, while the herdsman was on the opposite side of the lake, the\nF\u00f6hn suddenly broke loose with such fury that although he made frantic\nefforts to cross the water, it was four whole days before the waves\nsubsided enough to enable him to return home. During all that time the\ndwarfs had cowered down in the depths of the earth; so nearly all the\ncattle had perished from hunger and thirst. When the peasant entered\nhis stables and saw this sad state of affairs, he tore his hair, and\nin his despair even cursed his little friends. The latter, who in\nordinary times would have resented the slightest approach to bad\nlanguage, patiently bore all his reviling, and when he was somewhat\ncooler, offered to teach him the art of making cheese from sweet milk.\nThis would enable him to use much produce generally lost because it did\nnot thicken in time for use.\n\nThe herdsmen, on hearing this offer, reluctantly admitted that if it\nwere possible to make cheese from sweet milk, he might yet retrieve\nhis fortunes. So the dwarfs bade him kill his old goat, showed him how\nto curdle milk by using its stomach, as rennet, and taught him to make\nthe excellent cheese for which the Seelisberg is still noted. Thanks to\nthe secret revealed by the repentant dwarfs, the peasant soon became\nrich again, and when he died at a good old age, he left behind him fine\npastures, countless heads of cattle, and the invaluable receipt which\nhe had learned from his little friends, and which his descendants still\nuse.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN going over the Klausen Pass, and in crossing the boundary of the\ncantons of Glarus and Uri, one is reminded of the famous old quarrel\nconcerning this frontier. Both cantons once claimed the best pastures\nalong it, and as the herdsmen often came to blows over this matter, it\nwas finally arranged to settle the dispute once for all.\n\nThe jury before whom the matter was laid, composed of the most honest\nand influential citizens in both cantons, decreed that as the matter\ncould not be settled satisfactorily otherwise, it should be decided by\na race. According to their minute directions, each canton was to select\na cock and a champion. On an appointed day, at their respective cocks\u2019\nfirst crow, these champions were to start from Altorf and the Linth\nvalley, and running with all their might, fix the boundary line for\never on the spot where they finally met. This wise decree pleased both\ncantons; cocks and champions were duly chosen, and the day for the race\nwas eagerly expected.\n\nThe people of Glarus, thinking their rooster would be most likely to\nwake early if well fed and tended, lavished every care upon him, while\nthose of Uri kept theirs half starved, declaring he would sleep little\nif hungry and thirsty.\n\nWhen fall came and the time appointed for the race, the Urner\u2019s\nconjectures proved correct, for their skinny rooster awoke at the very\nfirst gleam of dawn. His hoarse crow had scarcely been uttered, when\ntheir champion set out from Altorf for his race to the frontier.\n\nOver in Glarus, however, matters were less promising, for while all\nthe people of the Linth valley stood in expectant silence around\ntheir cock, he slept on and on, until all the changing tints of dawn\nhad coloured the sky in turn, and the sun rose triumphant above the\nhorizon. Then he gave a lusty crow; but although the Glarus champion\nran his best, he had set out so long after his rival that he soon saw\nhim coming rapidly down the Grat.\n\nWhen they met, the Urner triumphantly cried: \u201cHere is the boundary!\u201d\n\nBut the Glarner, pleading for his community, said: \u201cNeighbour, I pray\nthee, be so just as to grant me a bit of the fine pasture land thou\nhast acquired by good luck.\u201d\n\nAt first the Urner would not consent, but as his antagonist continued\nto plead with gentle importunity, he finally exclaimed: \u201cWell, friend,\nthou shalt have as much ground as thou canst carry me over!\u201d\n\nThe overjoyed man from Glarus now picked up his opponent, and although\nthe latter was heavy, and the road led up a steep hill, toiled\nvaliantly onward until he sank down lifeless far up the slope. By his\nheroic efforts this man thus won a considerable piece of pasture land\nfor his fellow-citizens, who, in grateful memory of his efforts in\ntheir behalf, buried him on the spot where he fell, and still speak of\nhis feat of strength with wonder and admiration.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE marvellous St. Gothard Railway, which cost ten years of persistent\nlabour, crosses almost countless tunnels and bridges, and gives the\ntraveller an opportunity to see some of the finest and wildest scenery\nin the world. At Altorf it passes the Capuchin Monastery, in connection\nwith which the following story is told.\n\nThe monks, in olden times, lived on a very friendly footing with the\npeople all around there, until one of them, meeting a pretty girl on\na lonely path, declared he must have the bunch of Alpine flowers she\nwore on her breast, and a kiss besides. The peasant maiden, who had\npicked the flowers for her lover, and who was far from expecting such\nbehaviour on the part of one of the monks, gave a loud shriek when he\nattempted to secure the bouquet and salute her by force.\n\nAt the same instant the ground shook, a wide crevice appeared, whence\nrose a cloud of smoke. Then a slip knot suddenly closed around the\nneck of the monk, who was dragged down into the abyss, which closed\nover him with an ominous crash! Since then, if we are to believe\nthe chronicles, no monk from the Capuchin convent has ever dared\nraise his eyes to any of the girls of the town, or to exchange even a\nconventional greeting with them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nONE of the tunnels crossed by the railroad, is near a ravine which is\nknown as the Pfaffensprung or the Monk\u2019s Leap, and owes its name to the\nfollowing legend. A wicked monk once kidnapped a young girl, and was\nfleeing with her through the mountains, when he suddenly discovered\nthat he was pursued. To escape from his would-be captors, and retain\npossession of the girl he had carried off, this monk ran to the edge of\nthe Reuss. There, seizing her in his arms, he took a desperate leap,\nand--helped by the Devil--landed safely on the other side! According to\nsome versions of the story, the monk was none other than the Evil One\nhimself, for it is claimed no one else could have leaped across a chasm\nwhich measures no less than twenty-two feet at this place.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE old-fashioned stage road which winds its way over the St. Gothard,\npasses through Schoellenen, Goeschenen (the entrance to the St. Gothard\ntunnel), and over the new Devil\u2019s Bridge. This is built across the\nReuss at a point where steep rocks tower above and below it on all\nsides, and where the scenery is extremely wild and impressive.\n\nFrom the new bridge one can see the remains of a more ancient\nstructure, of which the following legend is told, as well as of all\nold bridges built in dangerous or difficult places, such as that of\nPont-la-Ville over the Sarine in Fribourg, and the one in the ravine of\nthe Morge in the Valais.\n\nAlready in very olden times the people of Uri had discovered that if\nthey could only establish a safe road over the St. Gothard mountain\nthey would be able to earn many a penny by trading with Italy. They\ntherefore spared neither pains nor expense, and built one foot after\nanother of the road, even piercing the hard rock in one spot to make\nwhat is still known as the Urner Loch, or Hole of Uri. Countless\napparently insurmountable obstacles were gradually overcome, and the\nroad, which had been begun on both sides of the mountain, was rapidly\ndrawing close together near the banks of Reuss. There, however, the\nbuilders paused appalled on either bank, for it seemed quite impossible\nto bridge the awful chasm near the falls.\n\nA meeting was therefore called at Goeschenen, where, although there\nwas no lack of talking, smoking, and drinking, no satisfactory decision\ncould be reached. A stranger, clad in black, with broad-brimmed hat\nand bold heron feather, sat at a neighbouring table and listened\nattentively to this discussion. Finally, seeing the meeting about\nto break up, he drew near the talkers, and taking a seat beside the\nprincipal magistrate in front of the fire, announced that he was a\nfamous builder, and could span the stream before morning. He even\noffered to show them a fine bridge there at dawn, on the next day,\nprovided they were willing to pay his price.\n\nOne and all now exclaimed that nothing he could ask would seem too\nmuch, so the stranger in black quickly responded,--\n\n\u201cVery well, then, it is a bargain! To-morrow you shall have your\nbridge, but in payment I shall claim the first living creature which\npasses over it. Here is my hand upon it!\u201d\n\nSaying these words, he seized the hand of the astonished magistrate\nbeside him, and before any one could add another word, disappeared. The\npeople gazed at one another in silence for a moment, then made furtive\nsigns of the cross. As soon as the chief magistrate could speak, he\nloudly declared the stranger must be his Satanic Majesty in person! In\nsupport of this assertion, he declared that the stranger, while sitting\nin front of the fire, had boldly thrust his feet right into the red-hot\ncoals, where he kept them while talking, as if the heat were agreeable\nto him; and added that he had distinctly felt sharp claws when the man\nin black shook hands with him to close the bargain.\n\nAll now shuddered with fear, and a general wail of terror arose.\nBut a tailor who was present at the meeting, promptly bade his\nfellow-citizens fear naught, for he would settle the bill with their\narchitect on the morrow. This offer was gladly accepted, the meeting\nwas speedily dissolved, and all hastened home, because none of them\ncared to be out after dark while still under the spell of their recent\nencounter with the Spirit of Evil. That night no one slept in the\nneighbourhood, for although the sky had been clear when they went to\nbed, a sudden storm arose and raged with fury until morning.\n\nAmid the roll of thunder, incessant flashes of vivid lightning, and\nviolent gusts of wind, they heard the splitting and falling of rocks,\nwhich seemed to roll all the way down the steep mountain side and crash\ninto the valley. But when morning came, no signs of storm were left,\nand as soon as the sun had risen and they again dared venture out,\nall rushed forth in a body to see what had happened. When they drew\nnear the Reuss, they could not sufficiently express their wonder and\nadmiration, for a fine stone bridge arched boldly over the swift stream.\n\nOn the opposite side stood the black-garbed stranger, grinning\nfiendishly and encouraging the people by word and gesture to test his\nbridge by walking across it. Just then the tailor appeared, carrying\na large bag. He advanced as if to cross first, but instead of setting\nfoot upon the structure, deftly opened his bag, from which escaped rats\nand mice, closely followed by a few cats.\n\nThe Devil, for it was he, gave a yell of rage when he saw himself thus\noutwitted, and, forgetting the part he had played until then, cast off\nhis disguise and ran down Goeschenen for a huge rock, which he intended\nto hurl at the bridge so as to wreck it entirely before any other\nliving creature could cross.\n\nOn his way back, however, Satan met a little old woman, who, frightened\nby his black looks, made a sign of the cross which caused him to drop\nhis burden and beat a hasty retreat into his own realm. To this day,\nhowever, the people still point out the huge boulder in which the\nmarks of Satan\u2019s claws are still visible, and which is known as the\nDevil\u2019s Stone.\n\n[Illustration: THE DEVIL\u2019S BRIDGE.]\n\nAccording to another version, the Devil no sooner saw himself outwitted\nthan he seized handfuls of rock which he hurled at the bridge. But\nthese missiles were all deflected by a cross which the tailor planted\nin the middle of the structure as soon as the animals reached the other\nside. These big stones now lie scattered in the bed of the Reuss,\nand around the pillars of the bridge, where, to the Devil\u2019s constant\nchagrin, they only serve to strengthen his construction.\n\nTo avenge himself in a slight measure, however, the Evil One posted\none of his own imps in this valley. When travellers pass, this demon\npounces down upon them unseen, snatches their hats off their heads,\nand with a slight mocking whistle tosses them into the middle of the\nstream. This imp, known as the Hat Fiend, or Hut Schelm, still haunts\nthe valley, although centuries have passed since the Devil played the\npart of engineer for the people of Uri.\n\n\n\n\nTESSIN\n\n\nA judge of Bellinzona, known far and wide for his unswerving honesty,\nwas wont to ride daily to Magadino to attend court there and mete out\nstrict justice to all who appeared before him.\n\nAlthough this was long years ago, when most judges openly accepted\nbribes, this particular magistrate could never be bought, and while the\ninnocent loudly praised him, all wrong-doers hated him cordially.\n\nConfirmed thieves and habitual criminals were particularly angry at his\nmode of procedure; so they finally decided it would be well to waylay\nthe upright judge one dark night on his homeward journey, and end his\nblameless career by a foul murder.\n\nThree young men therefore registered a solemn oath to kill the\nmagistrate, and posting themselves in ambush behind the rocks by the\nroadside, they impatiently awaited the appearance of their victim.\nToward midnight a clatter of hoofs was heard on the stony pathway,\nand the lurking assassins, peering cautiously forth, beheld the judge\ngalloping toward them, preceded and followed by three armed horsemen.\nThe three highwaymen, who had expected to see the judge alone or\nin company of one servant only, feeling loath to attack a force so\nsuperior to their own, allowed the judge to pass by unmolested, and\npostponed their attempt until the morrow. Then, reinforced by six of\ntheir evil companions, they again lay in wait for the incorruptible\nmagistrate.\n\nBut instead of rushing out to attack him as soon as he drew near, they\ncowered low in fear, for their expected victim was escorted by a troop\nof twelve armed men, riding six before and six behind him. The crime\nwas deferred by unanimous if tacit consent until the next day, when six\nmore ruffians joined the murderers, to accomplish their wicked purpose\nwithout further delay.\n\nAgain they waited and listened, and again their hearts beat fast at\nthe sound of approaching horsemen; but their hands dropped powerless\nto their sides on perceiving the judge ride rapidly past them with an\nescort of twenty-four men!\n\nConvinced that their plans had been revealed to the man they hated,\nthe murderers now resolved to follow him home, to discover which men\nformed his body-guard, and if possible to find the informer or at least\nsecure the connivance of the horsemen by means of large bribes. They\ntherefore noiselessly pursued the little cavalcade, and saw it come\nto a sudden halt in front of the judge\u2019s house. There the magistrate\nslowly dismounted, gave the bridle of his weary steed to a waiting\nservant, and entered his house without saying a word or making a sign\nto the horsemen standing all around him.\n\nAs the door slammed shut, the servant led the horse away to the stable,\nand the mounted escort suddenly vanished into thin air. Then only,\nthe amazed highwaymen became aware that the judge had been guarded\nby angelic spirits, detailed to watch over his safety, but of whose\npresence he was evidently not aware. This discovery filled their hearts\nwith such awe that they never again attempted to lay violent hands upon\nhim; but one of their number, overcome by remorse, finally went to seek\nhim, and confessing their evil intentions, humbly begged his pardon for\nthe projected crime.\n\nThe judge, who was as merciful as he was just, freely forgave this man;\nbut, relying upon divine protection in case of need, he continued to\nmete out justice as before, and rode home alone when his day\u2019s work\nwas over. No harm ever befell him, and it is said that when his upright\ncareer on earth was ended, the invisible body-guard escorted him to the\ngreat tribunal, where the verdict awarded to him was: \u201cWell done, thou\ngood and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSCHAFFHAUSEN\n\n\nIn olden times, when the Alemans first invaded Switzerland, they\npractised the bloody rites of their religion at the Falls of the Rhine,\nnear Schaffhausen, and sacrificed many white horses to the god of the\nRhine. These steeds were driven into the water some distance above the\ncataract, and in spite of their frantic efforts were swept over the\nbrink by the rapid current.\n\nNot long ago, horse-shoes could still be seen in the cracks of the\nrocks near the waterfall, and even now, on moonlight nights or on misty\ndays, the ghosts of these sacrificed steeds can still be seen, rearing\nand plunging in the waters, and wildly tossing their snow-white manes.\nThese wraiths are most clearly discerned during the night from Friday\nto Saturday, because it was then that they were offered up in sacrifice\nto the old heathen gods.\n\n[Illustration: THE FALLS OF THE RHINE.]\n\nA ghostly chariot, drawn by white oxen, was also seen formerly driving\ndown the stream to Schaffhausen, where it went thrice around the town.\nWhen this circuit took place from right to left, it was considered\nan infallible sign of good fortune; but when it made the journey in an\nopposite direction, bad luck was sure to ensue.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN olden times, when nothing but a convent and boat-landing stood on\nthe present site of the city of Schaffhausen, a nobleman once came down\nto the river to fish. Weary of his exertions, he finally fastened his\nskiff, and lying down in the bottom of it, fell asleep.\n\nBut while thus oblivious of all that was taking place, his vessel\nslipped its moorings, and drifting out into mid-current, was swept over\nthe falls. The passenger was so sound asleep, however, that he did not\neven rouse when hurled down into the thundering abyss, and was greatly\namazed on awakening to find his boat had drifted ashore far below the\ndreaded cataract.\n\nIn token of gratitude for this narrow escape, this nobleman is said to\nhave founded the Benedictine abbey at Rheinau, on the very spot where\nhis skiff drifted ashore after its perilous journey down the Rhine.[12]\n\n      [12] For other legends of Schaffhausen, etc., see the\n           author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the Rhine.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA YOUNG fisherman, who had a similar experience, fatuously imagined\nthat if his vessel went safely over the falls without being steered,\nit could not fail to do the same when guided by an experienced hand.\nHe therefore loudly boasted that he was about to go over the cataract\nagain, and in spite of all remonstrances on the part of friends and\nrelatives, actually made the attempt.\n\nThe skiff, however, was soon caught in the whirling waters, and in\nspite of all the fisherman\u2019s efforts, dashed against the rocks. For one\nminute the horrified spectators saw the broken boat and clinging youth\npause on the brink of the abyss, then they were swept over into the\nwhirlpool, whence they never emerged! Since then, on the anniversary\nof this foolhardy attempt, the ghost of the reckless youth can be seen\ndrifting down the stream, and with a blood-curdling cry of despair it\ninvariably plunges over into the vortex at the foot of the Rhine Falls.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWHEN noble knights still dwelt on the Randenberg, a pious maiden set\nout from there before dawn every morning to walk to the convent of All\nSaints at Schaffhausen, where it was her custom to attend early mass.\n\nHer sole escort on this daily walk was a faithful stag, which patiently\nawaited her coming at the castle gates every morning. When it was\nvery dark, this faithful animal walked lightly ahead of her, proudly\ncarrying a flaming torch between its branching antlers, and it always\nwaited at the city gates to accompany her home.\n\nOne day when the pious maiden and her attendant stag were nearing the\ncity, they were suddenly attacked by wayside thieves. With a cry of\nterror, the maiden sped on as fast as her trembling limbs would carry\nher; but when she came to the city gates she saw with terror that they\nwere still shut. Knowing no human help could reach her in time to save\nher from the hands of the miscreants, she now had recourse to a short\nbut fervent prayer, and the last words were scarcely uttered when an\nangel darted down from heaven, keys in hand, and led the maiden into\nthe city, closing and locking the gates in the very face of the cruel\nhighwaymen.\n\nEver since the pious maiden was thus miraculously saved by angelic\nintervention, that gate of Schaffhausen has been known as the\nEngelbrechtsthor, or the gate broken open by an angel.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWHERE the recently restored castle of Munot now stands, there was\nonce an older building occupied by a noble lord, who set out for a\npilgrimage to the Holy Land, leaving wife and children safe at home.\n\nThose were the days of slow travel and no mail; so months became years\nwithout the Lady of Munot\u2019s receiving any tidings of her absent spouse.\nShe therefore began to fear that he was dead, or that he had entirely\nforgotten wife and children at home. But such was not the case, for\nthe knight, having surmounted many perils, was now very near home, and\nspurring on with all haste, in spite of the darkness, to see his family\nsooner.\n\nOnly a short stretch of wood, and the torrent of the M\u00fchlenthal lay\nbetween him and his castle; but although the knight fancied he knew\nevery inch of the ground, he soon lost his way. Instead of crossing\nthe swollen stream at the usual place, he plunged into its waters at\nthe most dangerous point, only to find a watery grave within sight\nand sound of home. One of his faithful retainers, however, managed to\nescape from the torrent, and sadly bore the sorrowful tidings to the\npoor widow.\n\nWhen the Lady of Munot learned how her spouse had perished, she put\non mourning which she never laid aside, and to prevent other belated\ntravellers from meeting a similar fate, hung a silver bell in the\ncastle tower and had it rung for an hour every night.\n\nThe mournful toll of this little bell at nightfall not only served\nto guide travellers safely through the forest, and keep the knight\u2019s\nmemory green, but also reminded his former vassals to say a prayer for\nthe rest of their dead master\u2019s soul.\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF Z\u00dcRICH.\n\n\nZ\u00fcrich, the old Roman Turicum, on either side of the Limmat at the\npoint where it flows out of the green-hued lake, is the capital of\nthe canton of the same name, and noted alike for the beauty of its\nsituation and for its famous University.\n\nIn the days of the early Christian persecution, Felix and Regula, the\npatron saints of Z\u00fcrich, were beheaded near this town. Strange to\nrelate, though, immediately after the execution, both martyrs picked\nup their severed heads, tucked them under their arms, and stalked off\nto the spot where the minster now stands, where they wound up their\nmarvellous performances by burying themselves comfortably! On the spot\nwhere they suffered martyrdom Charlemagne erected a memorial pillar,\nabove which he hung a bell, saying that it could be rung by any one who\nhad been wronged, and that they should receive immediate justice.\n\nDuring one of his visits to Z\u00fcrich, Charlemagne took up his abode in\nthe Choristers\u2019 House, and while he sat there at table one day he\nsuddenly heard a loud peal from the bell of justice. He immediately\ndespatched a servant to see what wrong had been done, and was greatly\nannoyed when the man reported that careful search had failed to reveal\nthe presence of any living creature. A few moments later the bell\nrang again, but when the servant once more announced that no one was\nthere, the emperor bade his guards hide near the pillar, and seize the\nmiscreant who dared to pull the bell of justice in mere fun.\n\nBefore long the bell sounded a third time, and a few moments later the\nguards rushed into the emperor\u2019s presence with faces blanched with\nfear, to report that a snake had coiled itself around the pillar, and\nseizing the rope in its teeth, tugged until the bell rang forth loud\nand clear. The emperor immediately rose from table, saying he must see\nthis phenomenon with his own eyes, and followed by all his court went\ndown to the pillar. As he drew near, the snake came forward to meet\nhim, and rising upon its coiled tail, bowed low before the monarch in\nevident recognition of his exalted station. Then, dropping down to the\nearth once more, it crept away, turning from time to time, and making\nsigns as if to invite the emperor to follow. The serpent\u2019s actions\nwere so eloquent that Charlemagne, understanding them, obediently\nfollowed it down to the edge of the water, where, parting the reeds,\nthe snake showed him its nest, in which sat an enormous toad.\n\nCharlemagne now bade his guards seize and kill the intruder, and when\nthe snake had bowed its thanks and contentedly coiled itself around its\neggs, he went back to his interrupted meal, loudly praising the bell by\nmeans of which even dumb animals could appeal for justice.\n\nThe next day, while the emperor again sat at dinner, the guards\nrushed in breathlessly to announce the coming of the strange snake.\nCharlemagne quickly bade them stand aside and not try to hinder the\nreptile, which now crawled into the room where he sat, climbed up on\nthe table, did obeisance to the emperor, and delicately lifting the\ncover of his drinking-cup, dropped into it a jewel of fabulous price.\nThen, replacing the cover of the vessel, the snake bowed low again, and\ncreeping down, left the cloister to return to its nest by the lake.\n\n[Illustration: CHARLEMAGNE AND THE SERPENT.]\n\nAccording to one version of this legend, Charlemagne set this precious\nstone in a ring which he gave to his wife, Frastrada.[13] Unknown to\nhim, however, the stone had the magic power of fixing his affections\nupon its wearer. When the queen, therefore, thought she was about to\ndie, she slipped the ring into her mouth to prevent its falling into\nthe hands of some rival. For eighteen years Charlemagne refused to part\nwith his wife\u2019s body, and carried it with him wherever he went. But at\nthe end of that time his minister Turpin discovered the secret of his\ninfatuation, and obtaining possession of the magic stone, soon saw all\nCharlemagne\u2019s affections fixed upon him.\n\n      [13] For other version, see the author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the\n           Rhine.\u201d\n\nAs the emperor\u2019s devotion proved somewhat of a bore to the old\nminister, he tried to get rid of the spell by casting the ring into the\nmineral springs at Aix-la-Chapelle. While out hunting the next day,\nCharlemagne urged his steed to drink of that water, and when the animal\nhastily withdrew its foot and refused to approach the pool again, the\nemperor dismounted to investigate the cause.\n\nTouching the imprint of the horse\u2019s hoof, Charlemagne discovered that\nthe mud was very warm, for he was near the hottest of these thermal\nsprings. While resting near that pool, he was seized with such an\naffection for the spot that he soon founded there his capital of\nAix-la-Chapelle.\n\nIn memory of the horse which guided him hither, the Cathedral was\nbuilt in the shape of a horseshoe, and as Charlemagne could not endure\nthe thought of ever leaving this enchanted neighbourhood, he left\norders to bury him in the minster of Aix-la-Chapelle.\n\nOn the spot where Charlemagne\u2019s famous bell once hung, at Z\u00fcrich,\nstands the Wasserkirche, which now contains a large library with\nvaluable and interesting manuscripts. Charlemagne\u2019s great-grandson\nLouis II. often visited Z\u00fcrich, where his two pious daughters induced\nhim to build a convent and the Frauenm\u00fcnster.\n\nIt is said that the place for these buildings was staked out by angel\nhands, and that the stakes were connected by a silken string of the\nfinest make. This rope was hung above the altar of the new church,\nwhere it remained until the Reformation. It was then removed with many\nother relics, and served for years as ordinary bell-rope in a private\nhouse.\n\nThe king\u2019s daughters, who both became abbesses, long dwelt at Baldern\nCastle, whence, however, they went down to the Frauenm\u00fcnster whenever\nthe bell rang for prayers. They even attended the midnight services\nthere, and when it was very dark a stately stag invariably walked\nbefore them carrying a flaming torch between its antlers.\n\nAt the foot of the southern slope of the Albis--a green mountain near\nZ\u00fcrich--lies the little lake of T\u00fcrl or the T\u00fcrlersee. Tradition claims\nthat this valley once belonged to the lords of Schnabelberg, whose\ncastle stood on the height still bearing that name. They intrusted the\ncare of their lands to an unprincipled steward who once induced a miser\nto sell his daughter for a piece of rich land down in the valley. This\niniquitous bargain had no sooner been concluded than the inhuman father\nhastened down to view his new farm; but while he was inspecting it, a\nfearful storm arose. Thunder-bolts, repeatedly striking the mountain,\ndetached great masses of stone, which, in falling, made a dam across\nthe valley.\n\nIn a few moments the rain, pouring down the mountain side in swift\ntorrents, filled all the hollow made by this dam, covering every inch\nof land the miser had received in exchange for his child. Terrified by\nthis visitation from Heaven, the unjust steward not only let the maiden\ngo unharmed, but paid a rich dower to the convent she entered, and\nmended his evil ways as much as he could.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNEAR the Lake of T\u00fcrl once lived a lady named Kriemhild, who was\njealous because her neighbours\u2019 lands were more productive than her\nown. In hopes of ruining their crops, she bade a Salamancan student\nflood their fields. The latter, scorning magic arts for so simple a\ntask, dug a deep ditch, which, allowing the waters of the lake to\nescape, would accomplish his evil purpose just as well.\n\nSt. Verena, passing by there accidentally, discovered his purpose, and\nbefore he could complete his task whisked him and Kriemhild off to the\nGlarnisch in Glarus, where both are condemned to dig in the ice and\nsnow until they have made plants bloom in the desolate spot still known\nas St. Verena\u2019s or Vreneli\u2019s garden. As for the ditch it is still to be\nseen, and in memory of Kriemhild\u2019s evil intentions it still bears her\nname.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nONLY a short railway journey from Z\u00fcrich is the ancient castle of\nKyburg, which rises between Winterthur and Frauenfeld. It once belonged\nto a family of the same name, a side branch of the famous house of\nWelfs or Guelfs. To account for this name, tradition relates that a\nKyburg having married Irmentrude, Charlemagne\u2019s sister-in-law, went to\nlive with her in a castle near Altorf.\n\nOne day, a poor woman came to this castle begging for food, and sadly\nyet proudly exhibited triplets, whose recent arrival into the world\nprevented her working as usual for her living. The Countess of Kyburg,\nseeing these children, sternly refused all help to the woman, declaring\nno faithful wife had ever been known to bear so many children at once,\nand that she would not encourage vice in her lands by giving alms to\nwomen of bad lives.\n\nThe virtuous peasant woman, justly offended at this harsh speech,\nturned angrily away. But she paused a moment at the gate, to call\nHeaven to prove that she had always been true to her marriage vows\nby giving the Countess twelve children at a birth. The Countess paid\nlittle heed to this curse, but many months later she was terrified by\nthe simultaneous arrival of twelve sons, all exactly alike, and all\nunmistakable Kyburgs.\n\nNow it happened that her husband was away when these babes came into\nthe world, and the Countess, fearing he might take the same view of the\naffair as she had taken of the poor woman\u2019s triplets, bade her faithful\nold nurse drown eleven of the babes in a neighbouring pond. The nurse,\nfor whom the Countess of Kyburg\u2019s words were law, immediately bundled\neleven of the boys into her apron, and stealing out of the castle by a\npostern gate, made her way towards the pool. She had nearly reached\nit when she was suddenly confronted by her master just returning home,\nand he immediately inquired what she had in her apron, and what she was\ngoing to do.\n\nThe poor woman, hoping to shield her mistress, stammered that she was\non her way to drown a litter of wolf cubs; then she tried to slip past\nhim, but he insisted on seeing the cubs, and when she resisted, laid\nviolent hands upon the apron she held so tightly together. A mere\nglimpse of its contents made him hotly demand a full explanation, and\nwhen posted about every detail of the affair, he bound the nurse over\nto secrecy, took charge of the boys, and had them carefully brought up,\nunknown to his wife, who fancied they were all dead.\n\nFor six years the Count of Kyburg kept this secret, but at the end\nof that time he gave a great banquet, to which he invited all his\nrelatives and friends. In the middle of this meal, the eleven boys,\nrichly dressed, were shown into the hall by his order. The guests all\nstared in amazement at these children, who were so exactly like one\nanother, and like the supposedly only son of their host, that no one\ncould doubt their parentage.\n\nWhile they were still speechless, the Count of Kyburg suddenly\ninquired, in terrible tones, what punishment should be awarded to\nthe person who had tried to murder eleven such promising young Welfs\n(Wolves)? At these words the guilty Countess suddenly fainted, and the\nguests were informed of the part she had played. When she recovered her\nsenses, her husband generously forgave her, but the children he had\nrescued were known ever after by the name their father gave them when\nhe first introduced them to his friends.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nKING LOUIS II. of France is said to have promised one of the Welfs as\nmuch land as he could ride around in a golden wagon in one day. This\nWelf immediately decided to secure the boon by a subterfuge, since he\ncould not get it otherwise.\n\nBy his orders, a tiny golden wagon was made, and sitting upon this toy,\nplaced in a wagon to which were harnessed his quickest pacing oxen, he\nrode around a tract of land on either side of the Rhine, which included\nthe site of Kyburg Castle. Thus he won the Kyburg estate where his\nthree sons were born. In due time two of these became bishops, equally\nrenowned for their learning and great piety.\n\nOne of them, in serving Mass at Easter, saw a huge poisonous spider\nfall into the chalice. Loath to disturb the communion service, he\nswallowed the spider with the wine, and after Mass sat down to table,\nwhere, however, he refused to partake of any food. Exhausted by a long\nspell of fasting, he soon fell asleep, and his drowsy head rested on\nthe table, while his breath passed softly between his parted lips.\nHis friends, watching him, suddenly saw the spider--an emissary of\nSatan--creep out of his mouth and slink away, having been unable to\ninjure so good a man.\n\nThe two bishops once sat in the castle, before a well-spread board,\non the eve of a solemn fast-day. Although food and wine lay in plenty\nbefore them, they partook of them but sparingly, and were so absorbed\nin pious conversation that they remained there hour after hour, quite\nunmindful of the flight of time. The castle clock had just pealed\nforth the midnight hour, and the solemn fast had begun, when their\nsecretary stepped into the hall to inquire whether they still had\nneed of his services. This man, envious of their reputation, had long\nbeen jealous of them, and anxious to catch them tripping so he could\npublish the fact abroad. When he therefore beheld them seated before a\nhuge roast of boar\u2019s flesh, with several bottles full of wine still\nbefore them, his eyes flashed with malicious pleasure. A moment later,\nhowever, he stood with lowered eyes and in subservient attitude before\nhis superiors, who bade him go to rest, and, in the kindness of their\nhearts, gave him a big portion of meat and a bottle of wine to carry\naway with him.\n\nThe secretary meekly thanked the bishops, and took leave of them with\napparent humility; but no sooner had he closed the door behind him,\nthan he rushed off to a neighbouring convent, his heart dancing with\nfiendish glee. Rousing the brethren, he told them, with every mark of\nsanctimonious regret, that their shepherds were faithless, for they\nwere even now, on a solemn fast-day, partaking of forbidden meat and\ndrink!\n\nHe added that when they found themselves detected in this wrong-doing,\nthey tried to silence him by giving him a portion of their viands, thus\nmaking him a partaker in their sin. In proof of this assertion, he\nproduced the food they had given him, and the monks all crowded around,\nwith long-drawn faces, to see and smell these evidences of their\nsuperiors\u2019 guilt.\n\nTo the secretary\u2019s surprise, however, they soon turned indignantly upon\nhim, declaring that the so-called boar\u2019s flesh was the fish served on\nthe monastery table every fast-day; and the rich wine nothing but the\nsmall beer which invariably accompanied it. The secretary protested\nwrathfully, but when he, too, examined those articles carefully, he was\nforced to acknowledge the monks right, and to confess that Providence\nhad worked a miracle to prevent two absent-minded saints from\ninadvertently committing a grievous sin.\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDS OF ZUG\n\n\nThe Lake of Zug, the home of prehistoric lake-builders, is beautifully\nsituated at the foot of the Rigi, and separated from the Lake of\nLucerne by a narrow strip of land. At one end of this small sheet of\nwater is the city of Zug, the capital of the canton of the same name,\nand at the other extremity, the pretty city of Arth, at the foot of the\nRossberg.\n\nThis mountain is famous for its landslides, which have cost many lives\nand buried whole villages at its foot. The legend ascribes these\ncataclysms to the hard-heartedness of the people, who incurred the\nanger of the dwarfs by refusing them hospitality, as was the case at\nRoll on the Lake of Thun. The city of Zug has twice been undermined by\nthe lake. The first time, in 1435, two whole streets sank down into the\nwater; but while science attributes such accidents to perfectly natural\ncauses, legend tries to account for them in a more poetic way.\n\nIn the centre of the lake, far down below the surface of the water,\nnixies and water-nymphs are supposed to dwell in a marvellous palace\nall hung with gleaming crystal stalactites, paved with silver and gold,\nand brightly lighted by the sparkle of precious stones encrusting its\nwalls. The dainty inhabitants of this sub-aqueous palace seldom rise\nto the surface of the lake, except at night, when they are seen in\nthe moonlight, dancing here and there over the waves, floating gently\nashore, or hovering along grassy banks, where they love to spread out\ntheir mist like veils.\n\nThese nymphs occasionally appear at village dances, where they can be\ndistinguished from mortal maidens by their superior beauty, and by\nthe ever wet hem of their long white gowns. One of these nymphs fell\nviolently in love with the handsome young son of a magistrate of Zug,\nand besides meeting him at dances on the green, held nightly trysts\nwith him on the edge of the lake.\n\nThe youth was deeply enamoured with the dainty nymph, and when she\nrose out of the waves one evening with reddened eyelids, he insisted\nupon knowing the cause of her grief. The sprite now told him that\nher father, having discovered her infatuation for a mere mortal, had\nforbidden her to have any further intercourse with him, unless he were\nwilling to follow her down into her father\u2019s abode and live with\nher there in happy wedlock. The young man, on hearing this, vowed he\nwould be only too happy were such a course possible to him, but gently\nexplained that the element in which she lived was not adapted to human\nlungs. The nymph, however, declared such an obstacle could easily be\nremoved, and immediately proffered a magic draught, which would enable\nhim to breathe in the water as easily as in the air. The enamoured\nyouth quickly seized the cup she tendered, and after quaffing the\ncrystal clear, tasteless fluid it contained, sank with her down into\nthe depths of the lake.\n\nDelighted with his new powers, and with the wonders he saw on all\nsides, the youth was very happy for a while, but homesickness finally\nseized him in the crystal palace. When the nymph tenderly inquired what\nwas the matter, he sadly confessed that he longed to see his parents\nand friends once more, and that he would never be entirely happy unless\nhe could attend divine service regularly in his parish church.\n\nAt these words the nymph\u2019s sweet face darkened, but it was soon\nillumined again by a brilliant idea which she vowed she would put into\nimmediate execution. That evening, for the first time, she left her\nbeloved, and stealing into the sleeping city, replaced all the drinking\nwater in the houses of two streets by the same magic fluid she had\ngiven to the youth. Then, plunging into the lake again, she called all\nher father\u2019s minions to her aid, and gently and noiselessly undermined\nthose houses. When the people were sound asleep the next night, she\ndrew them softly down to the bottom of the lake.\n\nOn awakening in this new element, on the morrow, they found all their\nsurroundings unchanged, and took up their life where they had left it\noff when they went to sleep the night before. The youth could now hold\nconstant intercourse with his former neighbours and friends, attend\nservice whenever he pleased, and he and all the others are still as\nhappy as the day is long, for the magic draught has endowed them with\nthe immortality which all water spirits enjoy.\n\nWhen the waters are very clear, you can still see the spire of the\nsunken church and the gables of the old houses, and people gifted with\nparticularly keen eyes and lively imaginations can detect the stir of\nbusy life in the streets, catch the sound of ringing bells, and the\ndeep solemn tones of an organ, gently accompanying the chants of the\nsunken congregation.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nON the spot where the boundaries of Z\u00fcrich, Zug, and Schwyz converge,\nstands the Hohe Rhonen, the goal of charming excursions; for from the\ntop of this mountain one can enjoy a fine view of the lake, the Sentis,\nand the Toggenburg and Glarus mountains.\n\nPart of the Hohe Rhonen consists of fine pastures, and a legend claims\nthat a miser once tried to cheat a widow and several orphans out of\ntheir portion of this soil. To establish his claim to the pastures, the\nwicked man not only resorted to forgery, but as the judge still seemed\ndoubtful of the justice of his claims, boldly volunteered to swear on\nthe spot itself that it was rightfully his. The judge accepted this\noffer, and accompanied by plaintiff, defendant, and several witnesses,\nwended his way up the mountain to the disputed alp. Standing on a huge\ngranite boulder which lay there, the miser took his oath, holding up\nthree fingers as usual, and when the judge cried, \u201cWoe upon thee, if\nthou swearest falsely!\u201d boldly added, \u201cIf I have committed perjury, may\nthese fingers sink into this hard stone as easily as into water!\u201d\n\nSaying these words, he thrust his fingers downward, and to his horror\nand dismay felt them sink into the stone up to the second joint! But\nalthough they entered so easily, he could not draw them out again,\nand standing there, a convicted perjurer, had to confess his sin. He\nhad scarcely ceased speaking, when he was hidden from sight by a dark\ncloud, a terrible cry was heard, and when the rock again became visible\nto the amazed spectators, the man had disappeared, carried off to Hades\nby the Devil. But the stone, with the imprint of his perjured digits,\nis still known as the Three Finger Stone, and remains there as a\nconstant warning against falsehood and treachery.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOT very far from the Hohe Rhonen, but in the canton of Schwyz, stands\nthe church of Einsiedlen, a famous place of pilgrimage ever since the\nninth century. The legend claims that the spot is particularly holy\nbecause Our Lord once drank from the fountain with fourteen mouths,\nwhile journeying through the country to preach the gospel.\n\nBesides, Meinrad, Count of Sulgen, having vowed to spend the rest of\nhis life in prayer, came to this lovely valley long years ago. Here he\nbuilt a little chapel to contain a wonder-working image of the Virgin,\nwhich he had received from one of the princess-abbesses of Z\u00fcrich.\nMeinrad also built a small hut close by this chapel, and as this was\ngenerally called his hermitage (Einsiedelei), its name was given to\nthe town which has since arisen on that spot.\n\nMeinrad was known far and wide for his piety as well as for his\ncharity, and all the gifts he received from strangers were immediately\nlavished upon the poor. Years were spent by the hermit in penance,\nprayer, and works of mercy, and when very old, the death angel suddenly\nappeared to him one day in the chapel, to announce that his end was\nnear.\n\nMeinrad, who had longed for Heaven for many a year, received this\nwarning with solemn joy, and after returning thanks went out of the\nchapel, to feast his eyes once more upon the lovely landscape. While\nhe sat near his hermitage, two tame ravens which he had brought up\ncame to nestle in his lap, and he gently stroked them with his aged\nand trembling hands. While he sat there quietly, two robbers suddenly\nsprang out of the thicket, and exclaiming that they had come for the\ntreasures accumulated during all these years, drove their daggers deep\ninto his heart.\n\nThe old man fell to the ground lifeless, the ravens flew croaking away,\nand the thieves, picking up the corpse, threw it into the chapel, so\nas not to have it continually under their eyes while they made their\nsearch. With feverish haste they next turned over every article in\nthe little hermitage, ripped open the straw pallet, peered into the\ndepths of the one crock, and dug up the floor; but to their chagrin no\ntreasure was forthcoming. Thinking the holy man might have concealed\nhis wealth in the chapel, they now betook themselves thither; but no\nsooner had they crossed the threshold than they paused aghast, feeling\ntheir hair slowly rise up on end.\n\nThe chapel, which had been so dark a while ago, was now illumined by\nlights burning on the altar; the corpse was carefully laid out at its\nbase, with tapers burning all around it, and close by stood the two\ncrows, mounting solemn guard over their dead master. But when the\nmurderers, recovering a little from their first surprise and terror,\nventured to take a step forward, these faithful birds forsook their\npost, and so furiously attacked the intruders with beak and claws that\nthey soon drove them out of the chapel.\n\nTerrified by this attack, the robbers fled over the mountains to\nZ\u00fcrich, and did not feel quite safe until seated in a little inn where\nthey were wont to linger for hours. They were drinking hard, hoping\nto forget their recent uncanny experiences, when in through the open\nwindow suddenly flew two ravens which circled wildly around their\nheads, croaking loudly and threatening to pick out their eyes. The\ncriminals, with a common impulse, ducked their heads, and groaning\naloud, exclaimed: \u201cMeinrad\u2019s watchers! Meinrad\u2019s watchers!\u201d\n\nThese words, and the mysterious behaviour of the birds, which could\nnot be driven away for some time, so aroused the suspicions of the\ncity magistrates, that they sent both men to prison until they could\nascertain whether Meinrad were still safe. That same evening, however,\na traveller reported the murder of the hermit, whom he had found dead\nin the chapel, and when the judges summoned the prisoners they had\nto confess their crime. In punishment for slaying a hermit whom all\nrevered like a saint, the murderers were first broken on the wheel and\nthen burned at the stake.\n\nA monastery was soon erected on the site of Meinrad\u2019s hermitage; and\nsince then a beautiful church, a fine abbey, and many inns and hotels\nhave been built for the accommodation and edification of tourists and\npilgrims who visit Einsiedlen in great numbers.\n\n\n\n\nTHURGAU\n\n\nThe canton of Thurgau, bordering on the Lake of Constance, is less\nfrequently visited by tourists than almost any other, because it\nconsists principally of arable land and thriving manufacturing towns.\nIt is not, however, without romantic interest; but most of its legends\nare only slight variations of those already mentioned in connection\nwith other places.\n\nIn the days of Charlemagne a Thurgau giant named Kisher joined the\nimperial forces, and went with them to fight against the Huns and\nAvars. Such was the size and strength of this warrior that he waded\nacross every river, however deep, and when his horse hesitated to\nfollow him, dragged it after him by its tail, crying, \u201cComrade, you\nmust come along too!\u201d\n\nIn presence of the enemy this mighty giant remained unmoved, and\nplacing himself at the head of the army, mowed down the foe as calmly\nand steadily as if he were cutting hay in his native country. The\nbattle over, Kisher strung seven or eight of his victims on his lance,\nand flinging it across his shoulder, tramped home as coolly as if\nreturning from a day\u2019s hunt with his game. Such were his prowesses that\nCharlemagne declared that, as he was a host in himself, his name should\nbe changed from Kisher to Einheer, which means an army.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN going from Romanshorn to Constance, one passes the village of\nG\u00fcttingen with its old castle. The lords of this place, equally noted\nfor their wealth and avarice, had several other castles, one of which\nstood so near the lake that the waves constantly dashed against its\nwalls.\n\nOnce, when there was a great famine in the land, the starving people,\nknowing their lords had great quantities of food stored away in their\ngranaries, surrounded the castle and began to clamour loudly for\ngrain. The lords of G\u00fcttingen, who were living on the fat of the land\nthemselves, would not give anything to the poor, and, weary of their\nimportunate cries, determined to get rid of them once for all.\n\nThey therefore bade their hungry vassals assemble in an empty old barn,\nwhere they assured them their pangs would soon be stilled. The people,\nthinking their masters were about to distribute food, thronged into\nthis place; but when it was full, almost to overflowing, the cruel\nlords of G\u00fcttingen bade their servants close the doors and set fire to\nthe building. When the bright flames rose all around them, the poor\nvictims loudly begged for mercy; yet although their pitiful cries would\nhave touched any one else, the lords of G\u00fcttingen quietly sat there on\ntheir steeds, and laughed aloud when one of them sarcastically cried,\n\u201cJust hear those mice squeak!\u201d\n\nBefore long the roof fell in and the clamours ceased; but from the\nsmoking ruins suddenly came hosts of mice, which, running straight\nto the G\u00fcttingen castles, devoured everything they could find. The\nlords themselves, terrified at the sight of these pests, fled to their\nWasserburg, or Castle in the Water. But the mice pursued them there\ntoo, and having disposed of everything else, pounced upon them. In a\nfew moments heaps of clean picked bones were all that was left of these\nheartless lords, whose castle shortly afterwards sank into the lake.\nThere its ruins can be seen when the water is very low, and some people\nclaim you can still hear mice gnawing the bones of those cruel men if\nyou listen very attentively.[14]\n\n      [14] For similar legends of Bingen and others of this\n           section, see the author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the Rhine.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA COUNT of Seeheim eloped with a maiden of Kyburg because her father\nobjected to their union. The lovers, dreading the Count of Kyburg\u2019s\nwrath, placed themselves immediately under the protection of the Abbot\nof Reichenau, who promised to aid and watch over them, and pronounced\ntheir nuptial benediction.\n\nThe bride, having a fortune of her own, soon built a castle near the\nboundary of her father\u2019s land, carefully providing it with strong walls\nso that he could not molest her or her beloved spouse. For some time\nafter the two families lived on a war footing, but in course of time a\ncomplete reconciliation took place.\n\nIn memory of this feud and of its happy termination, the town which\nrose around the new castle received the name of Frauenfeld, and the\ncoat of arms of that city still bears the effigy of the faithful woman.\nShe is represented controlling a lion, which fierce animal is intended\nto represent the race from which she sprang, and whose wrath she\nsuccessfully defied and subdued.\n\n\n\n\nST. GALL AND APPENZELL\n\n\nSt. Gall, capital of the canton of the same name, which entirely\nsurrounds that of Appenzell, is noted for the famous abbey founded\nin 614 by St. Gallus, an Irish monk. He had come into this unsettled\nregion to preach the gospel, and when his disciple Hiltiboldus urged\nthat they would be exposed to the attacks of the bears, wolves, and\nboars, quietly answered, \u201cIf God is with us, who can be against us?\u201d\n\nThe snakes which had infested that region departed for good and all at\nthe saint\u2019s command, and his disciple soon discovered that even the\nwild beasts of the forest stood in awe of so holy a man. One evening,\nwhile Gallus was praying at the foot of a rustic cross, a bear came\ndown the mountain to devour his provisions. St. Gallus, perceiving the\ntheft, quietly bade the bear earn the food he had eaten, by bringing\nwood to keep up his fire. The crestfallen Bruin humbly fulfilled this\npenance, and when the saint told him henceforth to remain on the\nheights, never ventured down into the valley again.\n\nOne day Gallus\u2019s disciple discovered an apple-tree far up the mountain,\nand climbing up shook down some fruit to carry home to his master. But\nwhen he slid to the ground again, he was dismayed to find a huge bear\non the other side of the tree greedily munching the fallen apples. The\ndisciple\u2019s first impulse was to flee, but remembering that his master\nwas fond of fruit, he determined to secure some for him. Taking his\nstaff, therefore, he scratched deep marks at right angles with the\ntree, and then gravely informed the bear that while he was welcome to\nthe apples on his side of the line, those which fell on the other were\nreserved for St. Gallus. Strange to relate, the bear understood this\nspeech, and as long as the apples lasted never ventured to touch one on\nthe saint\u2019s side of the line, although he devoured all those on his own!\n\nThe cell and cross of St. Gallus were the nucleus of a monastery and\nschool, which for several centuries had no rival in Europe. Kings and\nemperors were wont to visit it, and the abbey, enriched by their gifts\nand concessions, daily increased in importance and wealth.\n\nWithin the walls of this edifice dwelt men noted for their learning,\nand countless scribes spent their lives there, patiently copying\nand illuminating manuscripts which, but for their efforts, might\nhave been lost to mankind. Some of these manuscripts still remain in\nthe abbey library; among others, a thirteenth century copy of the\nNiebelungenlied, Germany\u2019s famous epic. Innumerable scholars visited\nthe school and abbey at St. Gall, which is said to have been the scene\nof a comical encounter between the abbot and Charlemagne, almost an\nexact counterpart of the story of King John and the Archbishop of\nCanterbury.[15]\n\n      [15] See the author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the Rhine.\u201d\n\nThe old monastery life so ably depicted in \u201cEkkehard,\u201d by Von Scheffel,\nwith its descriptions of the herdsmen and hermit on the Sentis, have\nsurrounded that region with a halo of romance for all who have enjoyed\nthe perusal of the book.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE Sentis, with its cap of snow, is the highest mountain in Appenzell,\nand the goal for travellers who wish to make a whey cure or to\nenjoy an excursion to its summit. From the top of this mountain the\nview embraces the Lake of Constance, southern Germany, the Tyrolean\nMountains, and the Alps in Glarus and Bern. All the way up are various\npastures with their low ch\u00e2lets, where butter and cheese are constantly\nmade and carried down the steep paths for consumption in the valleys.\nThe Sentis, like all other mountains where cattle go to pasture, is\nsupposed to be haunted by mountain-folk, who, when well treated, always\nhelpful to mortals.\n\nThe Devil, too, plays his part in the Sentis legends, for one of them\nclaims that a lazy herdsman once called upon him to take his cattle, so\nthat he need no longer run after them when they strayed into dangerous\nplaces. The words were no sooner uttered than a hurricane swept down\nthe mountain, and the terrified peasant saw Satan, riding on the wind,\ndrive his cows over the edge of the abyss. In sudden repentance he made\na sign of the cross, fell on his knees, and cried that he had sinned\ngrievously. At those words the wind ceased, the Devil vanished; but\never since then the pasture, which had been known as the Gl\u00fccksalp, or\nLucky Alp, has been called Im Fehlen, or In Sin.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nANOTHER legend claims that the Devil once came striding across northern\nSwitzerland with a huge bag slung over his shoulder. In this sack\nhe had packed away a large number of houses, together with their\ninhabitants, and was carrying them away with the intention of removing\nthem for ever from Swiss soil. While taking a leap over the Sentis,\nhowever, he burst a hole in his bag, and the houses all tumbled down\nin Appenzell, where they still stand in irregular groups, just as they\nfell.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE same story which is told of the Alphorn at Meiringen is also\ntold of the heights near the much frequented baths of Ragatz, in the\nsouthern part of the canton of St. Gall. Not very far from this resort,\nand on the same wild stream, the Tamina, are the no less noted baths of\nPf\u00e4fers, and farther up the gorge an ancient abbey of the same name, to\nwhich legend ascribes the following origin:--\n\nIn the beginning of the eighth century St. Pirminius and his disciple\nAdalbert preached the gospel in the eastern part of Switzerland. Their\nefforts were rewarded with such success that they determined to build a\nchapel and monastery in this part of the country. Wishing to secure the\nPope\u2019s consent and blessing for this undertaking, Pirminius set out for\nRome, bidding Adalbert in the meantime select a suitable site and begin\nclearing ground.\n\nAfter much search Adalbert decided upon a lovely sheltered valley,\nwhere the sun shone brightly, where grass and fruit-trees were\nabundant, and where limpid waters flowed gently through meadows and\nforests. He and his converts now began felling trees, but while doing\nso Adalbert\u2019s axe suddenly slipped, inflicting a deep wound in his\nsandalled foot. The blood gushed forth, staining the chips around, and\nwhile all were trying to check its flow, a white dove suddenly alighted\nnear them, and catching up a gory chip, flew off to a neighbouring\ntree. At the same moment Adalbert\u2019s blood stopped running, the wound\nclosed, and in a moment he felt no more pain.\n\nThis miraculous cure seemed to all connected in some way with the dove;\nso when the bird flew slowly away with the chip, Adalbert determined to\nfollow it. Flitting from tree to tree and from rock to rock, the dove\nentered the cold and dark Tamina gorge, and penetrating ever farther,\nfinally perched on a sombre pine, and dropped the bloody chip at its\nfoot. Returning to his companions, Adalbert now told them he must await\nPirminius\u2019 return, and relate these marvels to him so that he might\ninterpret them if he could.\n\nWhen the saint came back from Rome and learned what had happened, he\nimmediately cried that Providence had sent them a sign, wishing them\nto build a church and abbey on the spot where the dove had dropped\nthe bloody chip. He added that such a wild, desolate region was more\nfitted to encourage a life of constant penance, labour, and prayer than\nthe valley flowing with milk and honey first chosen by Adalbert. By his\norders the Abbey of Pf\u00e4fers was begun, and to this day its seal bears a\nwhite dove carrying a bloody chip in its beak, in memory of the miracle\nto which it owes its location.\n\n\n\n\nGLARUS AND GRISONS.\n\n\nNear the city of Chur or Coire, and at the foot of the majestic\nCalanda, are the ruins of several castles, among others that of\nHaldenstein. Not very far from its crumbling walls is a fine spring\nof clear water, where people claim a charming vision was often seen.\nDressed in a long white gown which fell in classic folds to her feet,\nthis lovely maiden was wont to linger on the sunniest spot by the edge\nof the spring, dabbling her hands in its cool waters. A hunter once\ncame to this place, saw the beautiful maiden, and heard her weeping\nsoftly. He immediately drew near and looked at her so compassionately\nthat she told him if he would only hold her hand and not let it go\nuntil she bade him, he would release her from the baleful spell which\ncaused her tears.\n\nThe young man unhesitatingly took her slender white hand between his\nown sunburned palms, but started at finding it as cold as ice. While\nhe held it tight, trying to communicate a little of his own warmth\nto the chilled fingers, a tiny old man came out of the castle and\nsilently offered him a diamond basket full of gold. Although he could\neasily have secured this treasure by stretching out one hand, the young\nhuntsman continued the task he had voluntarily undertaken, and was soon\nrewarded by feeling a little warmth steal into the slender hand he held\nso firmly. At the same time the girl\u2019s sad eyes beamed with pleasure, a\nslight flush stole into her pallid cheeks, and looking up at him, she\njoyfully exclaimed,--\n\n\u201cI see I was not mistaken. You have proved trustworthy; so you may now\nlet go my hand, and take that basket as a token of my gratitude.\u201d\n\nThe maiden softly drew her hand from his, gave him the treasure, and\nvanished with a seraphic smile.\n\nSince then the White Lady of Haldenstein has never been seen by\nmortals, but the spring over which she mounted guard became known far\nand wide for its curative properties. These lasted for many a year; but\nalthough the spring still flows as clear as ever, it is said to have\nnow lost all its healing powers.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nON the way from Coire to Castiel one passes the awful Tobel, where a\nhuge dragon once took up its abode. Such were the ravages it made in\nthat region that the people of Castiel, Calfriesen, and L\u00fcen solemnly\npledged themselves to provide it with a human victim every year on\ncondition that the monster left them unmolested the rest of the time.\n\nThe dragon in the Castieltobel agreed to this arrangement, and the\nyearly victim was chosen by lot from each of the villages in turn. Now\nit came to pass that a tall, muscular stranger soon came to settle\nthere with his only daughter, and when the lot fell upon her, he boldly\ndeclared he would accompany her to the monster\u2019s den, and slay it or\nperish with her.\n\nLeading the maiden by one hand, and holding his trusty sword tight\nin the other, the brave man advanced cautiously, followed at a safe\ndistance by all the people, who wished to witness his encounter with\nthe dragon. They did not have to wait long, for, ravenous after a whole\nyear\u2019s fast, the monster rushed eagerly forward to swallow its prey. It\nhad already opened wide its capacious jaws, when the desperate father\nrushed toward it, thrust his sharp blade right into its throat, and\ninflicted such a severe wound that the dragon expired a moment later.\n\nOvercome with joy at having saved his beloved daughter, the father\nnow fell on his knees, and raising his hands to Heaven, gave solemn\nthanks for her preservation. While he was in that attitude, a drop of\ndragon-blood fell from his sword upon his head, and such was the deadly\nnature of the venom that it instantly killed him. The village people\nwere so grateful to him for delivering them from this dragon, however,\nthat they generously provided for his daughter, and erected a church on\nthe very spot where he had breathed his last.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nABOUT half-way between Castiel and Davos is the village of Arosa, where\ngrows a fine tree from beneath whose roots gushes a living spring.\nAccording to popular superstition, lucky people can find a golden key\nin the hollow whence this water flows from the ground. As soon as\nsecured, one suddenly perceives a passage-way barred by an iron door,\nwhich can only be opened by means of this golden key.\n\nA herdsman, who once came to refresh himself at this spring, discovered\nthis key by great good fortune, and boldly opening the locked door,\nfound himself in a vast cave. There a dwarf bade him choose between a\nheap of gold and diamonds, which would make him the wealthiest man in\nthe country; a golden cow-bell which would assure him the possession of\nthe finest cattle for miles around; or a lovely girl, whose eyes were\nfixed imploringly upon him, and who softly whispered that he would find\ntrue happiness only with her.\n\nThe young man hesitated, but as he had a passion for fine cows, he\nfinally left the cave with the golden bell. He felt so weary upon\nleaving this place, however, that he lay down to rest a moment near\nthe spring, and soon fell asleep. When he awoke, the magic key had\nvanished, and he might have believed the whole adventure a mere dream,\nhad not the golden bell still lain beside him.\n\nOn returning to his post, he found his herd miraculously increased, and\nall his cows were so handsome that his neighbours soon became jealous\nof him, and refused to have anything more to do with him. The young\nherdsman, therefore, left alone with his cattle, often regretted he had\nnot chosen an intelligent companion to share his solitude; but although\nhe frequently tried to find the golden key again, and thus secure the\nfair maid he had once seen, it was all in vain. Within a year from\nthat time, he lost all his fine cattle, because he brooded continually\nover his loneliness instead of taking care of them, and before long he\ncommitted suicide by flinging himself down from the top of one of the\nsharp peaks near there.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nEAST of Coire and south of the lovely Pr\u00e4tigau, is Davos Platz, so\ncharmingly located near the top of a pass, where it is well sheltered\nfrom the northeast winds. Besides its interest as a health resort\nvisited by many noted people, and the beautiful scenery and healthful\nclimate, this place derives additional charms from its legends. On the\nwestern slope of the Davos Schwartzhorn, for instance, there is a place\ngenerally known as the Dead Alp. Not a shrub or blade of grass is seen\nthere now; so it offers a striking contrast to the many other fine\npastures in that vicinity.\n\nIn olden days this desolate spot was the finest grazing-ground for\nmiles around, for it was then thickly covered with heavy grass,\nand watered by springs of the freshest water. At one time the land\nbelonged to a rich young dairy maid, who came down into the valley one\nfine Sunday afternoon to dance on the village green. She had so many\npartners, and so thoroughly enjoyed herself with them, that she did\nnot want to go home, although she knew that it was time to milk the\ncows. Duty warned her to return; but the delights of dancing proved\nso tempting that she determined to linger, and tried to silence the\nvoice of conscience by recklessly cursing both pasture and kine. This\nmalediction had scarcely left her lips, when her fruitful alp was\nturned into a desert, her cows all vanished, and she suddenly found\nherself deprived of all the worldly goods she had so little known how\nto appreciate!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOTHER Davos herdsmen, as pleasure-loving as she, once cursed the\nIcelandic moss or Cyprian herb which was then so rich in milk-producing\nqualities that they had to milk their cows several times a day. No\nsooner was the curse uttered than the luscious herb dried up, and ever\nsince then it has been the poorest sort of fodder, which no animal will\neat as long as something else can be found to satisfy its hunger.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOT very far from the Dead Alp, you can see, summer and winter, a broad\nfield of snow, far below the usual snow-line. This, too, was once a\nluxuriant pasture, where herdsmen were kept very busy tending their\ncows, and making butter and cheese from the milk they gave in such\nprofusion.\n\nThe owner of this alp was so good and generous that the poor were in\nthe habit of going up there for food whenever they were hungry, and\nthere was much wailing among them when he grew ill and died, and they\nheard the pasture now belonged to an avaricious man. They soon found\nthe new proprietor was even worse than they expected, for he was very\ncruel too, and drove all beggars away with curses and hard blows.\n\nA poor but numerous family, travelling through the country, climbed up\nthese heights one cold and foggy day, to beg for the food and shelter\nno one else could have denied them. But when they drew near the ch\u00e2let,\ncross dogs rushed out to meet them, barking, snarling, and showing\ntheir teeth in the fiercest way. The poor people nevertheless made\ntheir way to the door, where they stood, humble suppliants, while the\noldest among them described their pitiful plight and asked for aid.\n\nThe hard-hearted herdsman would not listen to him, however, roughly\nbade him begone with all his family, and seeing he did not immediately\nobey, called out to his men to drive the beggars away. This order was\nonly too promptly obeyed. The rough servants rushed out, and falling\nupon the poor family, lashed them with their long whips, threw stones\nat them, and laughed with uproarious glee when their fierce dogs began\nto chase the beggars down the mountain.\n\nBesides several old people, there were weak women and puny little\nchildren among these poor fugitives; still these cruel men felt no\nrespect for age or sex, and merely urged on their dogs worse than ever.\nTheir inhumanity proved too much for an old man, who, as he tottered\nlast down the path, with torn garments and bleeding limbs, suddenly\nturned around and cursed their alp, wishing it might soon be hidden\nbeneath a covering of snow that might rest upon it for ever.\n\nThat wish was fulfilled the self-same night, for huge masses of snow\nand ice fell down upon the pasture, transforming it into a wintry\nwaste, which well deserves its name, the Cursed Alp. Since then,\nwhenever a storm rages, or whenever fog envelops the mountain, the\nburied herdsmen rise from their shroud of snow, and one can again hear\nthem snapping their whips, exciting their dogs, and hotly pursuing\nghosts of beggars whom they are condemned to chase for ever in\npunishment for their sins.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIN the centre of the Grisons arises a reddish peak known as the\nRothhorn, which towers above all the other heights around it, and from\nwhence a fine view can be enjoyed.\n\nIt is said that the people of Plurs once exploited the gold mines in\nthis mountain, and thus became very rich. All this prosperity was not\nowing to their exertions alone, but due mainly to the fact that they\nhad won the good graces of the gnomes, who, at noon every day, poured a\ncanful of liquid gold down into a vein which they could easily reach.\n\nUnfortunately, the people of Plurs did not make a wise use of this\nwealth, but drank, gambled, and led vicious lives. This fact so\nincensed their former friends, the mountain spirits, that they slyly\nloosened great masses of stones and dirt, and hurled them down upon the\ncity one dark night in 1618.\n\nOnly one of the inhabitants, a pack-driver, escaped from general\ndestruction. He had arrived in the village late, intending to tarry\nthere overnight, but his leading mule refused to stop at the inn, and\npassing on was dutifully followed by all the rest, although the driver\ntried to stop them. Three times this man drove his train back to the\ninn, but three times they passed by, and the pack-driver had to follow.\n\nWhen they had gone some distance from the city for the third and last\ntime, the man suddenly heard a terrible noise, and, looking behind\nhim, witnessed the landslide and the total destruction of the once\nprosperous little city.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE Engadine Valley, noted for its bracing climate, is rather bleak,\nfor, according to a popular saying, it boasts nine months of winter and\nthree of cold.\n\nIn the seventh century St. Florinus with one disciple came to R\u00e9mus, in\nthe northern part of this valley, to preach the gospel. Feeling very\nweak and ill one day, the saint bade his faithful companion beg some\nwine at a neighbouring castle to restore his failing strength.\n\nThe disciple obeyed, and having secured a crockful, slowly wended his\nway home. He soon met a poor woman weeping bitterly, and inquiring\nthe cause of her sorrow, learned that her husband had been very ill,\nand that she had no money to buy the wine he needed to restore his\nstrength. Touched by her tears, the disciple poured all he had received\ninto the vessel she held, and then went back to the castle to beg\nfor more. But the people up there, having seen him give the wine to\nthe poor woman, now reproved him harshly, and sent him empty-handed\naway. The disciple departed sadly, regretting his generous deed; and,\nfearing to present himself before his master with an empty crock, he\nfilled it with water at a wayside spring. As soon as St. Florinus\nsaw him standing at his bedside, he reached up eagerly, seized the\ncrock, and took a long deep draught. The disciple, who fully expected\nan exclamation of bitter disappointment, was dumfounded to hear the\nsaint declare he had never tasted such good and strengthening wine;\nand, when invited to try it also, he discovered that the miracle of\nCana had been repeated, for the Lord had again turned water into wine.\nThis transformation took place, as long as the saint needed a tonic;\nbut when he was quite well, the crock was found to contain nothing but\nwater as before.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE people of the Engadine valley are very simple indeed; so simple\nthat a legend claims they were often cheated, and never could decide\nwhat it was best to do. A traveller, hearing the people of Sils\ncomplain, mischievously suggested that they ought to buy a little\nwisdom, and when they seriously inquired what it was and where it could\nbe procured, he gravely informed them that it was a precious herb,\npurchasable only in Venice.\n\nThe people, believing him implicitly, took up a collection and sent an\nemissary to Italy to buy the rare plant. After a long painful journey,\nthis man came home, having purchased from a charlatan the only sprout\nof the herb of wisdom still to be had in that city. The people all\ncrowded eagerly around their emissary to see and admire the wonderful\nherb, compared it exhaustively with those which grew around them,\nand although they could perceive but little difference, planted it\ncarefully on their village green. But, while they were indulging in a\ngreat jollification to celebrate the advent of wisdom among them, an\nold donkey came straying along, and before they could prevent it, ate\nup the precious plant!\n\nSince then, the people of Sils have never been able to secure another\nspecimen, and it is said they still grievously mourn their great loss.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE scene of the above legend is located in the Upper Engadine or Inn\nValley, south of the much frequented towns of St. Moritz and Pontresina.\n\nFrom there, you can see the dazzling snow top of the Bernina, a high\nmountain between Switzerland and Italy, with a much travelled pass\nleading from the Engadine to the Valteline Valley. Journeying from\nPoschiavo over the Bernina, one passes a desolate spot formerly\noccupied by the small town of Zarera. The inhabitants of that place are\nsaid to have taken advantage of their position on the highway between\nItaly and Switzerland, to extort money from all the pack-drivers and\ntravellers who passed through there. In fact, they enriched themselves\nby such unlawful and questionable means that they finally incurred\nthe wrath of Heaven. One night, when the moon was partly veiled by\nshifting clouds, a maiden dressed in white rode slowly around their\ntown on a snowy palfrey, calling to them to repent while it was still\ntime. But this admonition fell upon ears that would not hear, and the\npredicted retribution soon came. Dark clouds gathered around the top\nof the mountain, vivid flashes of lightning zigzagged through the\never-increasing gloom, and soon the rain came down in such torrents\nthat rocks and trees were swept down the mountain like pebbles and\nchips. In a few minutes the once prosperous town of Zarera was\ncompletely annihilated, and only the fragments of ruined houses could\nstill be detected here and there. All the people perished in this\nflood, with the exception of a mother and daughter, noted for their\npiety, who dwelt at some distance from the wicked town.\n\nThese two women had been very busy that day, doing their semi-annual\nbaking; for, like most of the people around there, they made bread\nonly twice a year. In spite of the serious work on hand, they prayed\nas long and read their Bible as diligently as usual, and even while\nsetting the bread to rise, commented reverently upon the teachings\ncontained in Our Lord\u2019s mentions of leaven and flour.\n\nFrom time to time one or the other gazed out into the garden, where\nchestnut-trees three hundred years old overshadowed their little house.\nThe southern exposure and the protection afforded by the mountain\nagainst the cold winds from the north and east, made their peach and\napricot trees bloom already in February, allowed fresh figs to grow\nclose at hand, and made their vines as productive as those in the\nValteline. The two women were very grateful for all these blessings,\nand would have been perfectly happy with their lot, had they not sorely\nmissed their husband and father, who had died three years before.\n\nWhile taking the huge loaves of sweet-smelling fresh bread out of the\noven, they thrice heard the melancholy, wailing note of the storm bird,\nbut they were so absorbed in their occupations that they paid no heed\nto it, until the tempest fairly broke over their heads and the rain\nbegan to fall with violence.\n\nAll through that awful storm, which wrecked the town of Zarera, they\nknelt in prayer, and when morning came and the downpour ceased, they\nfound their garden transformed into a stony waste, and all their trees\nuprooted and swept down into the valley.\n\nIn spite of the losses which suddenly deprived them of their means\nof existence, these two women returned fervent thanks for their\npreservation, and seeing that their house was now unsafe, and that\nit would be useless to remain on the mountain, they picked up their\nfew remaining possessions, and wended their way down into the valley.\nThere they soon found shelter, and by dint of hard work finally\nmanaged to retrieve their shattered fortunes; but, as long as they\nlived, they both remembered the awful storm in which they would surely\nhave perished had it not been for the hand of God stretched out in\nprotection over them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFOLLOWING the Rhine\u2019s devious course toward its source in the St.\nGothard mountain, we come to the junction of two branches of this\nstream at Disentis.[16] Here stands an abbey, dating from the seventh\ncentury, when its monks served as missionaries to the people around\nthem.\n\n      [16] For other data, see the author\u2019s \u201cLegends of the Rhine.\u201d\n\nThe heathen from the banks of Lake Constance once made a raid down\nthis valley, and visiting every castle, church, convent, and hut,\ndestroyed almost everything they could not carry away. Laden with\nbooty, they were slowly making their way north again, when they were\nsurprised at Disentis by the exasperated Swiss. The latter there\nattacked the heathen with such fury that all those who were not killed\nwere only too glad to seek safety in precipitate flight.\n\nThe brave Swiss were so weary, when the battle was over, and so parched\nwith thirst, that they longed for a drink. As there was no spring near\nby, and as their extreme exhaustion would not permit their going in\nsearch of one, their venerable old leader made a short but fervent\nprayer, and then thrust his sword into the ground up to the very hilt.\nWhen he slowly drew it out again a moment later, a strong jet of water\nshot straight up into the air, and falling down again on the rocky\nsoil, soon formed a pool and brook where all could drink. This spring\nstill flows as freely as ever, and its limpid waters possess medicinal\nproperties which have since attracted many visitors to this picturesque\nspot.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE line between Glarus and Grisons was long undetermined, so\nthe shepherds from either canton often indulged in raids and\ncattle-stealing, which not infrequently resulted in violence and\nbloodshed.\n\nOnce the men of Glarus suddenly came over the border, and noiselessly\nsurrounding a large pasture, drove away all the cows, after tumbling\nthe herdsmen head first into the great kettles of boiling milk where\nthey were busy making cheese. Only one of these men managed to escape\ndeath by hiding in the hay. As soon as the raiders vanished, he\ndetermined to sound the alarm. Taking his horn, he therefore climbed\nup into a pine-tree, just above the great Flimser Rock, and calling\nthrough this instrument with all his might, told his beloved Trubina,\nwho dwelt on another alp, of the misfortune which had occurred. The\nstrain was such, however, that the unhappy youth burst a blood-vessel,\nand sank dying from the top of the tree. His life blood ran in a thin\nstream over the great rock, where it made an indelible red streak,\nwhich can still be seen, and which serves to remind people of his\nheroic deed.\n\nThe timely warning he had given enabled Trubina to start a party\nof Grisons herdsmen after the cattle, which they followed down the\nmountain to the village of Flims. By careful reconnoitring, they soon\nascertained that the cows had been turned into an enclosed orchard,\njust beside the inn where the raiders were celebrating their capture in\nthe most convivial way.\n\nStealing unseen into this orchard, the Grisons men slyly fastened all\nthe cow-bells to one steer, which they left in the enclosure, while\nthey noiselessly drove all the rest of the herd home. The revellers,\nhearing the constant tinkle of cow-bells, deemed their prizes quite\nsafe, and were therefore greatly surprised and chagrined, when after\ntheir carousal they found only one bull calf in the enclosure, and saw\nhow cleverly they had been duped.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nON the frontier between Glarus and Uri, and not far from the Klausen\nPass, where the great Boundary Race took place, rises a majestic\nglacier known as the Claridenalp. The people around there claim that\nthis mountain was once fine pasture-land up to the very top, where a\nsmall ice-cap served to feed the many streams trickling down through\nthe rich alps into the valley.\n\nMost of the grazing on the Claridenalp once belonged to a young\nherdsman, who, although he revelled in plenty, cruelly let his old\nparents starve in the valley below him. This young man was, however,\nlavish enough when it suited him to be so, for he daily sent rich\npresents to his sweetheart, who, on the whole, was as selfish and\nheartless as he.\n\nFinding separation from her unendurable, the young herdsman finally\nbegged her to come up and spend the summer with him in his fine\nch\u00e2let, and receiving a favourable answer, immediately began elaborate\npreparations for her reception. His cows were groomed until they shone,\nand decked with bright ribbons and garlands of flowers; his larder\nstocked with every dainty he could secure, and lest his beloved should\nbruise her tender feet against a stone, or soil her dainty apparel in\nwalking near the ch\u00e2let, he paved the space all around it with fine\nrich cheeses, thus making a soft and smooth, if rather costly floor.\n\nMeeting his sweetheart part way down the mountain, the herdsman\njoyfully escorted her to the ch\u00e2let, where she duly admired all his\narrangements, and encouraged his extravagance by throwing butter into\nthe fire to keep up a bright flame. The revelry up in the ch\u00e2let grew\nmore fast and furious hour after hour, and the lovers feasted and sang,\nwhile the poor parents, faint from lack of food, lay shivering on their\nhard pallets down in the valley.\n\nA burst of loud music floating down from the mountain finally roused\nthe old father from his torpor. Sitting up in bed, he then shook his\nemaciated fist in the direction of the ch\u00e2let, and solemnly cursed his\nunnatural son.\n\nThat night, an awful storm swept down the mountain, and when morning\nbroke, the people in the valley saw that the Claridenalp had been\ntransformed overnight into the glacier which you now see. Pasture and\ncattle, herdsman and sweetheart had all vanished, but the spirits of\nthe lovers are said to haunt the site of their mad revelry.\n\nSimilar stories, with trifling variations, are told of many other\nsnow mountains in Switzerland. The Plan Nev\u00e9, for instance, is said\nto have become a waste because a herdsman ill-treated his old mother.\nBut the Bl\u00fcmelisalp, once the possession of a rich dairymaid, who\nbuilt a staircase of cheeses from valley to ch\u00e2let so she could more\neasily trip down to the weekly dances, was transformed into the present\nglacier, because she cruelly gave an aged beggar a drink of milk in\nwhich she maliciously stirred some rennet. The milk, turning suddenly\ninto a hard lump of cheese in the poor woman\u2019s stomach, caused her such\nintolerable suffering that she cursed the cruel giver.\n\nSince then, the alp, once thickly strewn with the many delicate\nAlpine flowers which gave it its name, has been almost inaccessible.\nBut countless mortals constantly admire it from a distance, and\nbreathlessly watch it flush at sunset, or glitter in all its icy\nsplendour beneath the silvery rays of the full moon.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHELVETIA boasts of many other legends connected with nearly every part\nof her soil; but as they are mostly repetitions of those already quoted\nthey are purposely omitted here. The samples of Swiss folklore already\nsupplied will enable travellers to gain some idea of the old-time\nvillage tales which have cast their glamour over \u201cthe playground of\nEurope.\u201d These crude yet often poetical imaginings lend additional\ncharms to scenery which rises before our mental vision whenever we hear\nor see the magic word \u201cSwitzerland.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nIndex\n\n\n  Aare, 106, 120, 127, 140, 144, 167, 170.\n\n  Aargau, 158\u2013175.\n\n  Aa Valley, 221.\n\n  Aawasser, 226.\n\n  Abbey, 153, 243, 280, 296.\n\n  Adalbert, 278\u2013280.\n\n  \u00c6geri, Lake of, 193\u2013194.\n\n  Agnes of Hapsburg, 193.\n\n  Ahasuerus, 126\u2013131.\n\n  Aigle, 33\u201336.\n\n  Aix-la-Chapelle, 179, 251, 252.\n\n  Albert of Hapsburg, 192\u2013193.\n\n  Alemannia, 168.\n\n  Alemans, 170, 242.\n\n  Allobroges, 4.\n\n  All Saints, 244.\n\n  Alois, 213\u2013214.\n\n  Alphorn, 124\u2013126, 278, 298.\n\n  Alpine flowers, 41, 136, 231, 302.\n\n  Alp of Little Flowers, 136, 302.\n\n  Alps, 55, 106, 128, 138, 140, 143, 170, 196, 276.\n\n  Alsacia, 168.\n\n  Altenburg, 168\u2013169.\n\n  Altorf, 175, 186\u2013187, 189, 191, 229\u2013230, 231, 254\u2013257.\n\n  Angels\u2019 Mountain, 222.\n\n  Appenzell, 274\u2013280.\n\n  Archbishop of Canterbury, 276.\n\n  Arnold von Melchthal, 182, 183.\n\n  Arnold von Winkelried, 195\u2013196.\n\n  Arosa, 284\u2013285.\n\n  Arth, 215, 219, 261.\n\n  Artus, 27.\n\n  Attinghausen, 224.\n\n  Aucenda, 49.\n\n  Austria, 167, 179, 196.\n\n  Austrian, 182, 186, 194, 195, 196, 213.\n\n  Axenberg, 189.\n\n  Axenstein, 189.\n\n\n  Babes in the Woods, 158.\n\n  Baden, 160\u2013161.\n\n  Baldern, 252.\n\n  Balisalp, 123\u2013124.\n\n  Balme, Grotto of, 41.\n\n  Basel, 97, 99, 147\u2013157.\n\n  Beatenberg, 107\u2013112.\n\n  Beatus, St., 107\u2013112.\n\n  Beatush\u00f6hle, 108.\n\n  Bellinzona, 238\u2013241.\n\n  Benedictine Abbey, 153, 243.\n\n  Bergy, Wilhelmine of, 82\u201385.\n\n  Bern, 59, 97\u2013139, 221, 276.\n\n  Bern, Dietrich of, 102.\n\n  Bernese, 57.\n\n  Bernese Alps, 106.\n\n  Bernese Oberland, 102.\n\n  Bernina, 293\u2013296.\n\n  Berra, 14.\n\n  Bertha, Queen, 21\u201324.\n\n  Berthold V. of Z\u00e4hringen, 102\u2013104.\n\n  Bertram, 101\u2013102.\n\n  Birrfeld, 170.\n\n  Bishop of Basel, 97, 174.\n\n  Bishop of Mayence, 179.\n\n  Bishop Werner, 171\u2013173.\n\n  Black Art, 203, 224.\n\n  Blanc, Mt., 1, 10, 23, 76, 143.\n\n  Blonay, 27.\n\n  Bl\u00fcmelisalp, 136, 301\u2013302.\n\n  Bohemia, 180.\n\n  Boundary Race, 229\u2013230, 299.\n\n  Brandolf of Stein, 57\u201368.\n\n  Brienz, 123.\n\n  Brienz, Lake of, 106, 120,122.\n\n  Broken Mountain, 196.\n\n  Brugg, 158\u2013160.\n\n  Br\u00fcndlisalp, 210, 214.\n\n  Brune, General, 103.\n\n  Bubenberg, Von, 103\u2013104.\n\n  Bull\u2019s Stream, 226.\n\n  Burgdorf, 101\u2013102.\n\n  Burglauenen, 131.\n\n  B\u00fcrglen, 185, 190, 192.\n\n  Burgundian 4, 57\u201368, 104.\n\n  Burgundy, 21, 82, 113.\n\n  Burkard of Landskron, 149\u2013150.\n\n\n  C\u00e6sar, 4.\n\n  Calanda, 281.\n\n  Calfriesen, 283.\n\n  Caligula, 199\u2013200.\n\n  Capped Mountain, 197.\n\n  Capuchin, 231\u2013232.\n\n  Carinthia, 180.\n\n  Castiel, 282\u2013284.\n\n  Castieltobel, 283.\n\n  Castle in the Water, 272\u2013273.\n\n  Cerlier, 97\u201399.\n\n  Chamounix, 41.\n\n  Champey, Lake of, 51.\n\n  Charlemagne, 147, 248\u2013252, 254, 270\u2013271, 276.\n\n  Charles the Bold, 57\u201368.\n\n  Ch\u00e2teau d\u2019Oex, 14.\n\n  Ch\u00e2telard, 27.\n\n  Chaulin, 29\u201331.\n\n  Chaumont, 79.\n\n  Chaux-de-Fonds, la, 82, 87, 89, 92.\n\n  Choristers\u2019 House, 248\u2013249.\n\n  Christ, 4, 108, 126, 147, 198, 200, 206, 266, 292, 295.\n\n  Christian, 4, 5, 39, 40, 71, 109, 113, 248.\n\n  Christianity, 39, 197.\n\n  Christopher, St., 104\u2013105.\n\n  Chur, 281.\n\n  Clarens, 28\u201331.\n\n  Cl\u00e9mence, 164\u2013165.\n\n  Coffrane, 80.\n\n  Coire, 281, 282, 286.\n\n  Col de Jaman, 31\u201332.\n\n  Colombettes, 77.\n\n  Colombiers, 80.\n\n  Confederation, 194.\n\n  Conrad, 196, 222.\n\n  Constance, 271.\n\n  Constance, Lake of, 270, 296\u2013297.\n\n  Constantius Chlorus, 170.\n\n  Conthey, 46\u201352.\n\n  Corbassi\u00e8re, 51.\n\n  Crusades, 71.\n\n  Cursed Alp, 289.\n\n  Cyprian Herb, 287.\n\n\n  David, 105.\n\n  Davos, 284, 286.\n\n  Davos Platz, 286\u2013289.\n\n  Davos Schwartzhorn, 286\u2013287.\n\n  Dead Alp, 286\u2013287.\n\n  Death, 194.\n\n  Dent de Jaman, 31.\n\n  Dent du Midi, 76.\n\n  Devil, 111, 140\u2013143, 232, 234\u2013237, 266, 277\u2013278.\n\n  Devil\u2019s Bridge, 232\u2013237.\n\n  Devil\u2019s Stone, 237.\n\n  Diablerets, 39\u201341, 42, 76.\n\n  Dietrich of Bern, 102.\n\n  Diocletian, 70.\n\n  Disentis, 296\u2013297.\n\n  Dominican Grotto, 210\u2013211.\n\n  Dominikh\u00f6hle, 210\u2013211.\n\n  Dragonstone, 210.\n\n  Droz, Jacques, 87\u201389.\n\n  Duin, 13.\n\n\n  Eiger, 135.\n\n  Einheer, 271.\n\n  Einigen, 109\u2013112, 116, 117.\n\n  Einsiedlen, 72, 266\u2013269.\n\n  Ekkehard, 276.\n\n  Elizabeth of Stein, 61\u201368.\n\n  Engadine Valley, 291\u2013296.\n\n  Engelberg, 221\u2013223.\n\n  Engelbrechtsthor, 245.\n\n  Erlach, 97\u201399.\n\n  Erlach, Rudolf von, 104.\n\n  Ermance, 24\u201327.\n\n  Esau, 23.\n\n  Ettingen, 151.\n\n  Evil One, 141\u2013143, 232, 237.\n\n\n  Falls of the Rhine, 242\u2013244.\n\n  Faulhorn, 131.\n\n  Felix, St., 248.\n\n  Fenetta, 43\u201346.\n\n  Fletschalp, 55.\n\n  Fletschhorn, 52\u201355.\n\n  Flims, 298\u2013299.\n\n  Flimser Rock, 298.\n\n  Florinus, St., 291\u2013292.\n\n  Fl\u00fchlen, 188\u2013189.\n\n  F\u00f6hn, 227.\n\n  Forest Cantons (Lucerne, Uri, Schwyz, Unterwald), 176\u2013237.\n\n  Fracmont, 196.\n\n  France, 113.\n\n  Frastrada, 250.\n\n  Frauenfeld, 254, 273.\n\n  Frauenm\u00fcnster, 252.\n\n  French, 120.\n\n  Fribourg, 14, 31, 69\u201378, 102, 233.\n\n  Frickthal, 155\u2013157.\n\n  Frohburg, 143\u2013145.\n\n  Furka Pass, 56, 224.\n\n  F\u00fcrstenstein, 151\u2013153.\n\n  F\u00fcrst, Walter, 182, 183, 185.\n\n\n  Gabriel, St., 116, 122.\n\n  Gargantua, 10\u201314.\n\n  Garganum, 114.\n\n  Gaul, 201.\n\n  General Brune, 103.\n\n  Geneva, 1\u20135, 12.\n\n  Geneva, Lake of, 1\u20135, 12, 28, 31, 32, 76.\n\n  Germany, 179, 276.\n\n  Gessler, 186\u2013191.\n\n  Gex, 49.\n\n  Gezard, 82.\n\n  Gibloux, 14.\n\n  Gideon, 143.\n\n  Gidi, 132.\n\n  Gidisdorf, 132.\n\n  Giessbach, 122.\n\n  Glarnisch, 254.\n\n  Glarus, 228\u2013231, 254, 276, 281\u2013302.\n\n  Gl\u00fccksalp, 277.\n\n  Goeschenen, 232, 233, 236.\n\n  Golden Age, 8\u201310, 22, 131\u2013132.\n\n  Goliath, 105.\n\n  Gothard, St., 224, 231, 232, 233, 296.\n\n  Grain Angels, 158.\n\n  Grandson, 56\u201368.\n\n  Grimmenstein, 99\u2013100.\n\n  Grimoald, 24\u201327.\n\n  Grimsel, 126\u2013131.\n\n  Grindelwald, 131\u2013132, 133, 135.\n\n  Grisons, 281\u2013302.\n\n  Grotte de Balme, 41.\n\n  Gruerius, 70.\n\n  Gr\u00fctli, 183, 186.\n\n  Gruy\u00e8re, 70\u201376.\n\n  Guelfs, 254\u2013257.\n\n  G\u00fcppe, 202\u2013204.\n\n  G\u00fcttingen, 271\u2013273.\n\n\n  Habichtsburg, 171, 173.\n\n  Habsburg, 173.\n\n  Hadrian, 113.\n\n  Haldenstein, 281\u2013282.\n\n  Hallwyl, 162\u2013167.\n\n  Hallwyl, Lake of, 162.\n\n  Hans, 73\u201375.\n\n  Hapsburg, Rudolf von, 104, 173, 176\u2013180.\n\n  Hapsburg Castle, 104, 167\u2013175, 180, 186, 192, 193.\n\n  Hasli Scheidegg, 133.\n\n  Hat Fiend, 237.\n\n  Hauenstein, 143.\n\n  Hawk\u2019s Castle, 171.\n\n  Heiterloch, 135.\n\n  Helvetia, 168, 180, 302.\n\n  Henry of Rapperswyl, 162.\n\n  Herod, 202.\n\n  Hiltiboldus, 274\u2013275.\n\n  Hohenstauffens, 175.\n\n  Hohenstollen, 123\u2013125.\n\n  Hohe Rhonen, 265\u2013266.\n\n  Hohle Gasse, 190.\n\n  Hole of Uri, 233.\n\n  Hollow Way, 190.\n\n  Holy Land, 71, 163, 246.\n\n  Holy Sepulchre, 142, 163.\n\n  House of Austria, 181.\n\n  Huch\u00e9es, 7.\n\n  Hut Schelm, 237.\n\n\n  Icelandic moss, 287.\n\n  Illiez Valley, 13.\n\n  Im Fehlen, 277.\n\n  Immensee, 190.\n\n  Inn Valley, 293\u2013296.\n\n  In Sin, 277.\n\n  Interlaken, 106, 120, 131, 135, 138.\n\n  Irmentrude, 254.\n\n  Iseltwald, 120\u2013122.\n\n  Italy, 55, 131, 233, 292.\n\n  Ivy Snake, 48.\n\n\n  Jacob, 23.\n\n  Jacob, St., 149\u2013151.\n\n  Jaman, 31\u201332.\n\n  James of Romont, 57\u201368.\n\n  Jardin des Plantes, 103.\n\n  Jesus Christ, 198.\n\n  Jew, The Wandering, 126\u2013131.\n\n  Jodels, 7.\n\n  John of Hapsburg, 180, 192.\n\n  John of Hallwyl, 163\u2013167.\n\n  Joliette, 28\u201331.\n\n  Jungfrau, 136.\n\n  Jura, 76, 79, 82, 144, 151.\n\n  Justus, 110\u2013112.\n\n\n  Kastelnalp, 212\u2013214.\n\n  Kerzerz, 106.\n\n  King Herod, 202.\n\n  King John, 276.\n\n  Kisher, 270\u2013271.\n\n  Klausen Pass, 228\u2013231, 299.\n\n  K\u00f6nigsfelden, 193.\n\n  Kriemhild, 253\u2013254.\n\n  Kuhreihen, 76, 124\u2013125.\n\n  K\u00fcssnacht, 190.\n\n  Kyburg, 254\u2013260, 273.\n\n  Kyburg Castle, 257.\n\n\n  La Chaux-de-Fonds, 82, 87, 89, 92.\n\n  Lady of Haldenstein, 281\u2013282.\n\n  Lady of Munot, 246\u2013247.\n\n  Lake of \u00c6geri, 193\u2013194.\n\n  Lake of Brienz, 106, 120, 122.\n\n  Lake of Champey, 51.\n\n  Lake of Constance, 270, 276, 296\u2013297.\n\n  Lake of Geneva, 1\u20135, 12, 28, 31, 32, 76.\n\n  Lake of Hallwyl, 162.\n\n  Lake Leman, 1, 2.\n\n  Lake of Lowertz, 218\u2013221.\n\n  Lake of Lucerne, 176, 183, 189, 190, 226, 261.\n\n  Lake of Neuch\u00e2tel, 56.\n\n  Lake of Sempach, 195.\n\n  Lake of Thun, 106, 107, 114, 118, 120, 131, 261.\n\n  Lake of T\u00fcrl, 253\u2013254.\n\n  Lake of Zug, 261\u2013264.\n\n  Lake of Z\u00fcrich, 248.\n\n  L\u00e4llenk\u00f6nig, 148\u2013149.\n\n  Landskron, 149\u2013151.\n\n  La Sarraz, 18\u201321, 27.\n\n  La Soye, 49.\n\n  Laupen, 104.\n\n  Lausanne, 18, 201.\n\n  Lauterbrunnen, 117, 138.\n\n  Le Locle, 82, 87, 89.\n\n  Leman, Lake, 1, 2.\n\n  Lenzburg, 101, 162.\n\n  Leodegarius, St., 209.\n\n  Leuk, 50.\n\n  Limmat, 170.\n\n  Linth Valley, 229, 230.\n\n  Locle, Le, 82, 87, 89.\n\n  Lombardy, 24, 115.\n\n  Lorraine, 103.\n\n  Louis II., 252, 257.\n\n  Louis IX., 151.\n\n  Lowertz, Lake of, 218\u2013221.\n\n  Lucerne, 72, 162, 178, 183, 189, 190, 195, 196, 205, 207, 209, 226.\n\n  Lucerne, Lake of, 176, 183, 189, 190, 226.\n\n  Luck Ship, 1\u20133.\n\n  Lucky Alp, 277.\n\n  L\u00fcen, 283.\n\n  L\u00fctchine, 131.\n\n\n  Magadino, 238\u2013241.\n\n  Magdalen, 212\u2013214.\n\n  Margaret, St., 102.\n\n  Margaret of Gruy\u00e8re, 72\u201376.\n\n  Maria im Stein, 152.\n\n  Mariastein, 153.\n\n  Maria Stella, 162.\n\n  Marie Madeleine, Ste., 4\u20135.\n\n  Martin, St., 135\u2013136.\n\n  Martinsloch, 135.\n\n  Maurice, St., 40, 48.\n\n  Mayence, 179.\n\n  Meer Stern, 162.\n\n  Meinrad, 266\u2013269.\n\n  Meiringen, 123, 126, 133, 278.\n\n  Merligen, 118\u2013120.\n\n  Mettenberg, 135.\n\n  Michael, St., 113\u2013117, 118.\n\n  Midi, Dent du, 76.\n\n  Mol\u00e9son, 70, 76\u201378.\n\n  Monk\u2019s Leap, 232.\n\n  Mons Fractus, 196.\n\n  Mons Pileatus, 197\u2013198.\n\n  Mont Blanc, 1, 10, 23, 76, 143.\n\n  Monte Rosa, 10.\n\n  Monthey, 13, 47.\n\n  Montreux, 28, 31.\n\n  Morat, 68, 69.\n\n  Morgarten, 193\u2013194.\n\n  Morge, 233.\n\n  Moritz, St., 293.\n\n  Moses, 143.\n\n  Mount Pilatus, 196, 205, 206, 207\u2013214.\n\n  M\u00fchlenthal, 246.\n\n  M\u00fcllinen, 164\u2013166.\n\n  Munot, 245\u2013247.\n\n  Muri, 160.\n\n  M\u00fcrren, 138, 139.\n\n  Mythenstein, 183.\n\n\n  Nancy, 68.\n\n  Nero, 49, 50.\n\n  Neuch\u00e2tel, 79\u201396.\n\n  Neuch\u00e2tel, Lake of, 56, 81, 86\u201387, 79\u201396.\n\n  Neu Hapsburg, 176\u2013179.\n\n  Niebelungenlied, 276.\n\n  Niesen, 106.\n\n  Novarre, 103.\n\n  Noville, 42\u201346.\n\n\n  Oberhofen, 112.\n\n  Oberland, 102, 131.\n\n  Odin, 100.\n\n  Oex, Ch\u00e2teau d\u2019, 14.\n\n  Oldenhorn, 42.\n\n  Olten, 143, 144.\n\n  Orbe, 15.\n\n  Ormond, 33\u201336, 153.\n\n  Our Lady of Lucerne, 72.\n\n\n  Palestine, 71.\n\n  Paradise, 110.\n\n  Paris, 90, 91, 92, 93, 103.\n\n  Path\u00f4, 14.\n\n  Payerne, 22.\n\n  Pestalozzi, 101, 170.\n\n  Pf\u00e4fers, 278\u2013280.\n\n  Pfaffensprung, 232.\n\n  Pilate, Pontius, 198\u2013205, 206, 207.\n\n  Pirminius, St., 278, 280.\n\n  Plan Nev\u00e9, 48, 50, 301.\n\n  Plurs, 289\u2013290.\n\n  Pontarlier, 93\u201396.\n\n  Pont-la-Ville, 14, 233.\n\n  Pontius Pilate, 198\u2013205, 206, 207.\n\n  Pontresina, 293.\n\n  Poschiavo, 293.\n\n  Procla, 198.\n\n\n  Radbod of Altenburg, 169\u2013173.\n\n  Ragatz, 278.\n\n  Raining Rock, 28\u201331.\n\n  Ralligen, 117\u2013118.\n\n  Ralligenstock, 117\u2013118.\n\n  Ramflue, 176\u2013177.\n\n  Randenberg, 244\u2013245.\n\n  Ranz des Vaches, 76, 124\u2013125.\n\n  Raphael, St., 116.\n\n  Rapperswyl, 162.\n\n  Raymond, 25\u201327.\n\n  Red Snow, 55.\n\n  Red Valley, 136.\n\n  Regula, St., 248.\n\n  Reichenau, 273.\n\n  Reichenbach, 123.\n\n  R\u00e9mus, 291\u2013292.\n\n  Ren\u00e9 of Lorraine, 103.\n\n  Res, 123\u2013125.\n\n  Reuss, 170, 192, 232, 233, 236, 237.\n\n  Rheinau, 243.\n\n  Rhine, 147, 242\u2013244, 296.\n\n  Rh\u00f4ne, 12, 14,39\u201340,42\u201346, 50, 126, 127, 201, 206.\n\n  Rh\u00f4ne Glacier, 126.\n\n  Richard, D. J., 87.\n\n  Richensee, 196.\n\n  Rigi, 214\u2013218, 261.\n\n  Rigi-Kaltbad, 215\u2013218.\n\n  Rochefort, 86.\n\n  Roll, 117\u2013118, 131, 261.\n\n  Rollin of Vallengin, 79\u201381.\n\n  Romainmotier, 15\u201318.\n\n  Roman, 4, 147, 170, 193, 199, 200, 201, 248.\n\n  Romanshorn, 271.\n\n  Rome, 107, 199, 278.\n\n  Romont, 57\u201368, 70.\n\n  Rosa, Monte, 10.\n\n  Rossberg, 261.\n\n  Rossini, 181.\n\n  Rothberg, 151\u2013153.\n\n  Rothenthal, 136, 137, 138.\n\n  Rothhorn, 289\u2013290.\n\n  Rudolf von Erlach, 104.\n\n  Rudolf von Hapsburg, 104, 173\u2013180, 181.\n\n  Ruthenzug, 160.\n\n  R\u00fctli, 183, 185.\n\n  Ruz, Val de, 79\u201381.\n\n\n  Saint Felix, 284.\n\n  St. Florinus, 291\u2013292.\n\n  St. Gabriel, 116, 122.\n\n  St. Gall, 274\u2013280.\n\n  St. Gallus, 274\u2013276.\n\n  St. Gothard, 224, 231, 232, 233, 296.\n\n  St. Jacob, 149\u2013151.\n\n  St. Leodegarius, 209.\n\n  St. Margaret, 102.\n\n  St. Marie Madeleine, 4\u20135.\n\n  St. Martin, 135\u2013136.\n\n  St. Maurice, 40, 48.\n\n  St. Michael, 113\u2013117, 218.\n\n  St. Moritz, 293.\n\n  St. Pirminius, 278, 280.\n\n  St. Raphael, 116.\n\n  St. Regula, 248.\n\n  St. Triphon, 13.\n\n  St. Verena, 140\u2013143, 160, 254.\n\n  Salamanca, 203, 204, 206, 254.\n\n  Sal\u00e8ve, 12.\n\n  Sarine, 14, 70, 76, 233.\n\n  Sarraz, La, 18\u201321, 27.\n\n  Satan, 14, 39, 40, 51, 99, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 116, 117, 149,\n            224, 235, 237.\n\n  Sausbach, 139.\n\n  Savoy, 1.\n\n  Scandinavian, 107.\n\n  Scex que Plliau, 28.\n\n  Sch\u00e4chen, 191.\n\n  Schaffhausen, 242\u2013247.\n\n  Scheffel, Von, 276.\n\n  Scheidegg, 132, 133.\n\n  Schiller, 15, 36, 179, 181, 190.\n\n  Schinznach, 167.\n\n  Schnabelberg, 253.\n\n  Schoellenen, 232.\n\n  Schreckhorn, 133\u2013135.\n\n  Schwanau, 215, 216, 218, 219, 220.\n\n  Schwartzhorn, 286\u2013287.\n\n  Schwesternborn, 218.\n\n  Schwyz, 175, 181, 182, 191, 265, 266\u2013269.\n\n  Seealp, 123\u2013125.\n\n  Seeheim, 273.\n\n  Seelisberg, 183, 184, 227\u2013228.\n\n  Seldenb\u00fcren, Conrad of, 222.\n\n  Sempach, 195\u2013196.\n\n  Sentis, 143, 276\u2013278.\n\n  Seyon, 79.\n\n  Siedelhorn, 131.\n\n  Sils, 292, 293.\n\n  Simplon, 52.\n\n  Sintram, 101\u2013102.\n\n  Sion, 49\u201350.\n\n  Snow Eyes, 135.\n\n  Soleure, 140\u2013143.\n\n  Soye, La, 49.\n\n  Spain, 87.\n\n  Spalen, 148.\n\n  Spalenberg, 148.\n\n  Spalenthor, 148.\n\n  Spiez, 112, 117.\n\n  Spirit of the Alps, 36.\n\n  Spirit of Evil, 235.\n\n  Spirit of the Mountain, 53.\n\n  Spirit of the Winds, 2.\n\n  Stanz, 195, 221.\n\n  Star of the Sea, 162.\n\n  Staubbach, 138.\n\n  Stauffacher, 182, 183.\n\n  Steersbrook, 226.\n\n  Stein, Brandolf von, 57\u201368.\n\n  Stein Castle, 160.\n\n  Str\u00e4ttlingen, 112\u2013117.\n\n  Styria, 180.\n\n  Sulgen, Count of, 266.\n\n  S\u00fcrenenalp, 221, 223\u2013226.\n\n  S\u00fcrenen Pass, 223.\n\n  Swiss Sleepers, 185.\n\n  Swiss Confederation, 104, 147, 181.\n\n\n  Tamina, 278\u2013280.\n\n  Tell chapels, 183, 189, 190.\n\n  Tellsplatte, 189.\n\n  Tell, William, 181, 185, 189, 191, 192.\n\n  Tessin, 238\u2013241.\n\n  Thebaid, 70.\n\n  Theodore Weinz\u00e4pfli, 106.\n\n  Three Finger Stone, 266.\n\n  Three Marys, 160\u2013161.\n\n  Three Tells, 184\u2013185.\n\n  Thun, 106.\n\n  Thun, Lake of, 106, 107, 114, 118, 120, 131.\n\n  Thurgau, 270\u2013273.\n\n  Tiber, 200\u2013201.\n\n  Tiberius, 199.\n\n  Titlis, 76, 221.\n\n  Tobel, 282\u2013283.\n\n  Tr\u00e8ves, 140.\n\n  Triphon, St., 13.\n\n  Trubina, 298\u2013299.\n\n  Turicum, 248.\n\n  T\u00fcrl, Lake of, 253\u2013254.\n\n  T\u00fcrlersee, 253\u2013254.\n\n  Turpin, 251.\n\n  Tyrolean Mts., 276.\n\n\n  Uetliberg, 174\u2013175.\n\n  Unterwald, 175, 181, 182, 191, 195, 196.\n\n  Upper Engadine, 293\u2013296.\n\n  Upper Grindelwald Glacier, 133.\n\n  Uri, 175, 180, 181, 182, 185, 186, 191, 221, 224, 226, 228\u2013231, 233,\n            237, 299.\n\n  Urner Loch, 233.\n\n\n  Valais, 6\u201368, 136, 233.\n\n  Val de Ruz, 79\u201381.\n\n  Vallengin, 79\u201381, 82.\n\n  Vallorbes, 15, 18.\n\n  Valteline Valley, 293\u2013296.\n\n  Vaud, 6\u201368.\n\n  Vauxtravers, 80.\n\n  Venice, 292.\n\n  Verena, St., 140\u2013143, 160, 254.\n\n  Verenathal, 140\u2013143.\n\n  Verona, 102.\n\n  Viege, 47.\n\n  Vienne, 201, 206.\n\n  Vindonissa, 170, 193.\n\n  Virgin, 15, 72, 73, 152, 153, 208, 218, 266\u2013269.\n\n  Vreneli\u2019s Garden, 254.\n\n  Vufflens, 23\u201327.\n\n\n  Waldenburg, 153\u2013155.\n\n  Walter of Rochefort, 86.\n\n  Walter F\u00fcrst, 182, 183, 185.\n\n  Wanderer, 162.\n\n  Wandering Jew, 126\u2013131.\n\n  Wasserburg, 272\u2013273.\n\n  Wasserkirche, 252.\n\n  Wasserthurm, 196.\n\n  Weinz\u00e4pfli, Theodore, 106.\n\n  Welfs, 254\u2013257.\n\n  Wengernalp, 125\u2013126.\n\n  Werner, 171\u2013173.\n\n  Werner Stauffacher, 182, 183.\n\n  Werner von Str\u00e4ttlingen, 114\u2013117.\n\n  Wetterhorn, 131, 133.\n\n  Wettingen, 161\u2013162.\n\n  Wild Huntsman, 100.\n\n  Wilhelmine of Bergy, 82\u201385.\n\n  William Tell, 181\u2013192.\n\n  Winterthur, 254.\n\n  Wohlen, 169.\n\n  Woods, Babes in the, 158.\n\n  Wotan, 39\u201340.\n\n  W\u00fclpelsberg, 167\u2013173.\n\n  Wynigen, 101.\n\n\n  Z\u00e4hringen, 102\u2013104.\n\n  Zarera, 293\u2013296.\n\n  Zauchet, 50.\n\n  Zermatt, 50\u201351.\n\n  Zug, 261\u2013269.\n\n  Zug, Lake of, 261\u2013269.\n\n  Z\u00fcrich, 174, 248\u2013260, 265, 268\u2013269.\n\n  Z\u00fcrich, Lake of, 248.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s Notes\n\n\nPunctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a\npredominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they\nwere not changed.\n\nSimple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation\nmarks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left\nunbalanced.\n\nIllustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs\nand outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support\nhyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to\nthe corresponding illustrations.\n\nThe Index was not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page\nreferences. Spelling discrepancies between the Index and the referenced\ntext were resolved in favor of the referenced text.","title":"Legends of Switzerland","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":65385}