ing itself on its gigantic buttresses of rock, its bare ribs of granite, and its deep clefts filled with the ice of ages--piercing with its aerial 'needles' the blue vault of heaven, and proudly overlooking, with its hundred heads, the subject Alps and the whole world at its feet. Upon its hoary summit, Winter, king of storms and monarch of the mighty Alps, sits in all his terrors to hold his court, and the glaciers seem the crystal pillars of his icy throne. The scene was like enchantment--something that Fancy, in her most creative mood, might dream of-but like nothing that reality can present.

6

It was with deep regret, and not without casting many a longing, lingering, look behind,' that our travellers, taking their last farewell glance of Chamouni, at length left the mountain's brow, and descended its steep sides through woods of gigantic pine trees, more than one hundred feet in height, rooted by natureamusing themselves with making snow-balls by the way, while the intense heat of the sun formed a curious contrast to their benumbed fingers, and snow besprinkled clothes. They stopped to rest their mules, and feast upon strawberries and cream, at the chalet of Trian. Another long steep ascent to Forclas, and an apparently interminable descent of many hours, led them down to Martigny; during which, the richness and cultivation, and smiling beauty of the Valais far below them, watered by the broad Rhone and rapid Drance, afforded views of beauty, which formed a fine contrast to the savage grandeur and desolation of the scenes they had just quitted.

The two parties, from the opposite directions,

on the same day, reached Belle-vue-Colonel Cleveland's campagne, near Lausanne-to dinner, without any adventure worthy of notice.

CHAPTER XIII.

SKETCH TAKING; OR, LOVE
MAKING.

How much a man's a fool when he dedicates his behaviour to

love!

O-and I forsooth in love!

I, that have been Love's whip-
A very beadle to an amorous sigh,

A critic-nay a night watch constable,

A domineering pedant o'er the boy;

SHAKSPEARE.

This whimpled, wining, purblind wayward boy-
This wicked elf--this giant dwarf Dan Cupid.
Regent of love rhymes-lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed Sovereign of sighs and groans!-
What I-I love!-I sue!-I seek a wife!
A woman that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing-ever out of frame,
And never going right.

Love's Labour Lost

-Too old by heaven! still let the woman take

An older than herself:-so wears she to him,

So sways she level in her husband's heart.

Cry the man mercy!-Love him!-Take his offer!

SHAKSPEARE.

ONE morning, as Caroline St. Clair was sitting in a sort of bower or summer seat, at the extremity of the beautiful terrace at Belle Vue.

overlooking the lake,-her whole soul occupied in sketching the magnificent prospect that lay extended before her-the light was suddenly obscured, and looking up surprised, she beheld the opaque form of Lord Lumbercourt standing directly before her-his back to the view, and his large grey eyes fixed with extraordinary seriousness full upon her face. She smiled, 'Won't you sit down my Lord? I did not expect'

'You did not expect such an interruption."

'Such a foreground,' said Caroline, laughing, 'for I was just considering what I should introduce in the foreground of my picture.'

'I fear, Miss St. Clair, I have no chance of ever being in the foreground of your picture,' said Lord Lumbercourt, sitting down close to her.

'Very little certainly at present,' said Caroline, colouring, for I fancied that a donkey would be the most picturesque animal-and I was longing for one just at the moment your Lordship appeared but it is really impossible to take or mistake you for a donkey in any respect.'

'Then you really don't think me quite an ass ?' said Lord Lumbercourt.

'It would be the surest proof that I was one myself, if I did,' said Caroline; and intent upon her sketch, she began to talk upon the little trifling ordinary topics of conversation, which usually come uppermost, when the mind is occupied with another subject-but all the labour of supporting this talk devolved upon herself. Lord Lumbercourt answered only in short and absent phrases of rejoinder or assent, and sat twirling and rolling a piece of drawing paper, 15*

VOL. I.

with that hasty nervous trepidation, which marks great internal embarrassment and agitation, and which people so often feel, when they have formed a determination to do or say something of vast importance, that they know not how to set about.

'You seem very uneasy, my Lord,' said Caroline, in a tone of commiseration, observing him shifting about on his seat, and changing colour, 'I am afraid you are suffering.'

6

I am, indeed,' said Lord Lumbercourt, with a sigh.

'Indeed! and is it in your toe?'

Hang the toe!' exclaimed Lord Lumbercourt, hastily.

Is it so bad?' said Caroline, quite tenderly, thinking his vehemence arose from the twinge. 'It is here;' exclaimed Lord Lumbercourt, emphatically, laying his hand on his heart-but Caroline, who was looking at her drawing, mistook this motion.

In your stomach? the gout in your stomach ?" she exclaimed, with alarm.

6

Hang the gout! Can a man have no other complaint than that cursed gout?'

'Indeed,' said Caroline, looking up astonished, and beginning to think the gout had got into his head, I did not know you had any other complaint, my Lord.'

"Then you are much mistaken!'

She looked still more astonished both at his words and manner.

'I beg your pardon. so hasty for speaking and warmth.'

Forgive me for being with such abruptness

'Not at all! I can easily imagine how irritating the gout must'—

It is not the gout, Miss St. Clair. of the gout-forget it, I pray you.'

Don't talk

'I am very glad you can forget it, I am sure. It is a sign it is going off;-but what then is the matter, my Lord?-Bilious, like all the rest of the world?'

'No, no!'

'What then?—is it your head?"

'It is

my heart!'

'Is that all?' exclaimed Caroline, laughing. Nay, Miss St. Clair, don't laugh at me, at least.'

6

Every body will laugh at you, my Lord. Every body laughs at complaints of the heart. Expect no pity.'

From you, I did expect it,' said Lord Lumbercourt, in a tone and with a look that brought a blush over her, lovely laughing face.-' From you only I wish it.'

'No body wishes to be pitied, I think,' said Caroline, looking confused.

'I do--I wish for your pity ;-for pity is akin to love.'

A little more than kin and less than kind,' perhaps,' said Caroline; not knowing very well what she was saying.

'Kind! yes, you are kind!-kind to all !— kindness itself! Do not be unkind only to me.' Caroline's blushes betrayed her internal embarrassment, but rallying her spirits, she playfully said- No! I will be very kind to you, my Lord! for look what I have delivered you from!'-shaking an ear-wig from the sleeve of his coat.

'O Miss St. Clair! I wish you could read my heart, and see'