38

TRIENT TO MARTIGNY.

ple are getting avaricious, and positively will do nothing without payment, "Point d'argent, point de Suisse," "No money no Swiss" is the universal motto. The road from Trient to Martigny is excessively difficult: after leaving the former, I mounted a steep hill which looked into the valley, a noble scene, and passing through a gorge between two hills, I commenced a descent much more fatiguing than the previous ascent. After an hour's work, in which I got about half way down, I beheld Martigny near the angle of a vast valley, closed on all sides by a lofty horizon of mountains the Rhone runs nearly right in the centre, and stretching parallel, the road to Riddes straight as an arrow. It was a perfect map; villages lay scattered through a rich country, dotted with clumps of trees, and vineyards looked beautifully green in the setting sun. I went forward with new vigour having my post in view, and arrived about 7 o'clock, after a walk of twenty-four miles; in my opinion, having traversed some of the toughest work in Switzerland.

Martigny, in Latin Octodurus, is a small town in the Bas Valais : it appears entirely composed of inns. I staid at the Grande Maison, a large barrack of a house, formerly a convent. The salle à manger would remind one of an old baronial hall, the roof being arched and groined. Not a little tired, I retired early to rest.

CHAPTER XIX.

The

Pissevache cascade - Proceed to St. Bernard-Liddes-The Praue Convent -Music-Chamber of Napoleon Monks-Dogs-Morgue-Museum-Antiquity of the Pass -Auberge - Troublesome vise-Enter Italy - Brief account of d'Aosta - Triumphal arch-Cathedral-Amphitheatre-Cloisters-Parting glance-An obstacle-Retrace my steps Party at the convent-John Bull - Cause for antipathy to books-French marriages-Martigny - Diligence to Leuk-Fellow-travellers-Sion Cathedral-Path to the Baths-Overtaken by night.

Tuesday 26th.

GRAND MAISON, Martigny.-I have just returned from seeing the finest sight that has as yet met my eyes in Switzerland, (Mont Blanc always excepted) namely, the Pissevache. This sublime cascade is about three miles distant, or an hour's walk. The road is in the centre of a glen through which the Rhone glides, and the sides of the valleys are composed of mountains lofty and barren. From a dark ravine, the small river urges its impetuous course to the verge of a precipitous rock, whence it

40

PROCEED TO ST. BERNARD.

plunges into the basin beneath, by a perpendicular fall of 280 feet. It is impossible to describe the sensation produced of awe and fear, when you behold the immense body of water tumbling headlong from the dizzy height in dense volumes: the sheets of spray rising like clouds of smoke from the basin, and covering the air to a considerable distance with moist vapour. It well repays the trouble of a walk, for anything so sublime I never before witnessed.

Wednesday, 27th. Leaving Martigny this morning at six o'clock, I set out for St. Bernard. I traversed part of the line leading to Chamounix, by the village of Martigny, until I reached the bridge over the Dranse, where I turned to the left. Keeping by the banks of the river, the road wound between some stupendous precipices, and I continued for a considerable space of time to traverse the vast gorge. This is extremely picturesque, high mountains tower on either side, and the torrent rapidly tumbles through the glen. The village of St. Branchier afforded me a breakfast in the little auberge, and I travelled with the stream and passed through a small gallery cut through the rock. The next place I came to was Osières, a small town on the banks of the Dranse. I could see peeping over the horizon the Cormayeur and the Col Ferret, while the Glacier of Valsorey cast a light gleam over the scene.

The mills in the neighbourhood of La Valette deserve to be pointed out to the attention of the lover of the picturesque, each turned by a roaring torrent which comes tumbling down the rocks. I passed through part of the valley of Bagnes, which is ten leagues in length,—the mountains stretching high in the air on all sides. At Liddes I staid to rest and dine; the auberge is one of the best and cheapest in Switzerland, a combination very rare indeed. I met at table two Jesuits, who arrived from the Convent of St. Bernard, whither I was going, and also an Irish party of two ladies and a gentleman, whose connexions I was acquainted with, Mr. and Mrs. W- and Miss B-. After dinner we mounted mules and rode together to the convent.

Aleve and St. Pierre are two inconsiderable places. The road in this district is splendidly rugged. One time it resembled very much the pass of the Tête Noire, in the fearful depth of its glens. We entered shortly on the mountain region, called the Prau, and soon every trace of fertilization was entirely lost; the Alpine hills towered to the clouds, while vast masses of snow lay imbedded in the ravines. We caught sight of the glacier of Menoue, above which soars Mont Velan, the highest summit of the St. Bernard range.

Vast and naked rocks were now all to be seen; huge masses of gigantic masonry appeared to wall out the milder world, and seemed proud of the

grandeur of their own sterile regions. Sometimes we had to cross the prostrate avalanches which had descended to destroy, (two victims had perished this winter) and often were we forced to deviate from the path, and make a detour, where the mass of snow totally obstructed the passage. At length, by the direction of my muleteer, I looked up, and beheld the mansion of Charity ready to receive me. It is a large substantial building, devoid of ornament, security being all required; near it is a smaller one, built to break the force of the avalanches, which divide and descend in lesser portions on either side.

Leaving my mule in the stable, enjoying the provender which his owner brought with him, as is the custom, I mounted the stairs, and, was shewn into the stranger's refectory; two members of the Jesuit order were already arrived, and in a short time the Irish gentleman, his wife and her young friend made their appearance; my mule being fresh, had left them behind in the ascent. A lady from Turin was also of our party; and when we sat down to an excellent supper, with some of the best wine in Switzerland, our worthy president, the brother of Mt. Bernard appointed to receive strangers, left us nothing to wish for. In that spirit of hospitality, which has rendered their name celebrated throughout the universe, he ministered to our wants in the most benevolent manner. After our meal and the customary grace,