intended that I would reside within a short distance of Knockgriffin, at the place bequeathed to me by my grandfather, which adjoins my brother's property. You see, therefore, that my husband, should I ever accept one, must either be a thorough Tipperary man, or resigned to make himself one. You know enough of our unhappy county, Captain Stapleton, to understand how little I could venture to urge anyone to reside within its boundaries

you

66 Anywhere, anywhere with you!" I murmured, interrupting her energetically. "To the end of the earth; in a desert; anywhere, so that I may call mine ! " "This is only the first ardour of passion, Captain Stapleton. Reflect a little upon what I have said. It is usual for women to follow their husband's fortunes, and leave their own homes and countries for those that are strange to them; but I will never abandon Tipperary as a place of residence, and I can ask no man to live there with me."

"Better and braver men than I am, God knows, are living in Tipperary!" I exclaimed, ardently. "Wherever you wish to reside, there will be my home also. And, oh that 1 had thousands upon thousands to purchase such an estate in this county as would be worthy of such a mistress !

"I am quite satisfied with what I possess ; and if you can really become reconciled to remaining among us here, then I will indeed be proud to be your wife-proud to know that I have the bravest and most generous of men for my husband."

And so we were betrothed, reader. I had won my beautiful Tipperary bride easy enough, Heaven knows, as far as sacrifice on my part went and I rejoice to say that Sir Denis was perfectly satisfied with his sister's choice, though at the time I proposed and was accepted I had but a small income beyond my military pay. However, three years after we were married I came in for the baronetcy which I had considered myself cut out of by the marriage of my elderly uncle, who died six months after his son and heir was carried off by scarlatina; and then I had a fortune worthy of my wife. Yet I kept my promise of residing in Tipperary for the greater part of every year; and added to our property there, speedily gaining the hearty good-will of our tenants, with whom I never had a disagreement; nor was Sir Denis ever again fired at, at home or abroad, since the memorable evening that I received the shot intended for him, and which I have often returned thanks for as the most fortunate accident of my life.

her brother's account as time goes on; and as there is a prospect of his marriage, I think she will soon agree to our living more in England. With all its drawbacks, and the failings of the people, I have learned to love my Tipperary home, and to deplore very bitterly the late outrages committed in other parts of the county, praying sincerely that civilisation may increase, that true Christianity be established, and that landlord and tenant may learn to live together in peace and unity.

TWO SWISS LAKES.

THE lakes of Brienz and Thun, those twin basins of the Aar, between which lies the lazy, loafing, picturesque lounge of Interlaken, whose genius is, as it were, the Calypso of Swiss tourists, bidding men stride and climb no longer, beckoning ladies to quit the rough saddle and rougher chaise à porteur, and betake themselves to croquêt and gossip in the shade-these two lakes are very charming in their way, and form some of the very pleasantest Swiss memories in the minds of travellers who have neither been tied by remorseless Time, nor bitten by the more intense furore of Alpine climbing. Brienz is the lake of the Giessbach Falls; Thun is the lake of the fine pyramidal height known as the Niesen. The village of Brienz is barely more than five minutes distant by the steamer from the point where the great gush of the falls troubles the tranquil surface of the lake. But before we go across to that famous cataract, let us take a look at the delicious little hamlet itself. Here in four lines is an excellent miniature of the scene :—

Slope after slope the pastures dip

With ribbon'd waterfalls, and make
Scant room for just a village strip,

The setting of a sapphire lake.

So sings the accomplished author of Ionica, who has caught and immortalised that plaintive wistful way that strikes one so often in the filles and garçons of remote inns, who look a gentle rebuke at English restlessness and hurry, and seem ready to plead for some little sojourn at their quarters, were it not that experience has taught them to despair of success in any such effort. At Brienz in particular

Travellers rest not, only dine,

Then driven by Furies, onward go.
For pilgrims of the pointed stick,
With passport case for scallop-shell,
Scramble for worshipped Alps too quick
To care for vales where mortals dwell.

We can easily imagine pilgrims, however, returning from "worshipped Alps" a little

oppressed with the energetic service demanded by those serene but uncompromising deities, and feeling only too happy to lay by the scallop-shell and to scrape acquaintance with the pleasant mortals of Brienz. In the airy salle à manger of the White Cross, discussing a dish of the Lotte-ar -an excellent lake-fishwith the blue mirror full in view, a man may reasonably congratulate himself on having reached at least one refuge from the turmoil and disquietude of life.

In crossing to the Giessbach Falls you may be steaming above a depth of two thousand feet of water. In its deepest part the lake measures 2,100 feet; immediately in front of the great cascade, only a quarter of that depth. It is only eight miles long, but those eight miles make up a length of quite unbroken loveliness. Its surface is nearly eighteen hundred feet above the sea level, and thirty feet higher than that of the neighbour-lake of Thun.

Several hours may be passed at the falls without weariness, and without having fully explored their vast proportions. They have been too often described to require much further delineation, and the best word-picture would fail to pourtray them as they are. Their distinguishing feature is the surprising succession of cascade after cascade. About five minutes' walk from the landing-place brings one to an abrupt precipice of a hundred feet or more, over which a tumultuous rush of water is tumbling with stupendous force, and forming a cataract that would be in itself well worth a pilgrimage to look upon. Further up the pine-covered hill, as one approaches the hotel (for where in Switzerland does not a hotel rear itself!) and the pretty cottage of the schoolmaster, fall above fall becomes visible, the highest roaring among the woods at least eight hundred feet above the level of the lake. Large logs of pine, some four feet long, and a foot and a half in thickness, come bouncing and tumbling down the cascades with a deep booming sound as they strike the rocks at each landing, among which they are ruthlessly driven by the overwhelming waters, in spite of what look like blind, insensate efforts to remain where they

Sleeping at Interlaken, and purposing to climb the Niesen next day, one ought to be up betimes. Interlaken is two miles distant from Neuhaus, its station on the lake of Thun, and the steamer leaves Neuhaus by half-past five in the morning. As you start up the lake towards Thun, three grand giants of the Oberland tower high above all surrounding peaks on the left. These are the Eigher, the Mönch (Monk), and the Jungfrau; and further on, the line of eternal snowempire extends itself left and right, embracing the Wetterhorn and Schreckhorn in one. direction, and the Blümlis Alp in the other. The usual method of reaching the Niesen's foot is to go on to Thun, and take from thence a carriage to Wimmis, a pretty village lying at nearly eight miles' distance below the great pyramidical limestone mass. But, by landing at the lovely little promontory of Spietz, we believe that a path is gained, leading by a direct and much shorter route to the point where the mule-track begins its windings up the hill.

The Niesen makes a considerably stiffer climb than the Righi. It is, to begin with, two thousand feet higher, the measurements being 7,500 and 5,500 feet. The path is steeper and more rubbly, and the work is more consecutively "on the collar." A capital plan of climbing these less ambitious, but still toilsome mountain ascents, in company, is, to choose some steady-going member of the party, and to allow him to set the pace by walking first; then to split up the way into lengths of a quarter of an hour, traversing each length in silence, but interposing two or three minutes of rest and chat between them. It is astonishing to find how much relief is given to wind and limb by some such systematic plan as this, which also results in a considerable economising of time.

Halfway up the Niesen an extremely primitive auberge is reached, principally attractive from a shady seat commanding a very lovely view of the Lake of Thun, flanked by the Stockhorn and other hills at the entrance of the Simmenthal. At this auberge

the traveller will probably discover a lad who speaks little German and less French, but who, by repeated and varied explanations, may be induced to produce a key, with which he repairs to a little shed, serving as a cellar at the back of the house. Pursued by half-adozen goats of an inquiring turn of mind, and clearly believing themselves entitled to taste a sample of the bin, the lad of few words dives into the shed, and presently re-appears with a bottle of white wine. After a succession of puzzled grins, he makes it understood that the auberge does not feel bound to keep a corkscrew, and that if the cork is to be drawn the guests must draw it. Being gradually apprised that a few centimes will be added to the price of the wine in discharge of the value of the bottle, he takes a big stone and knocks off its head. The white wine is as cider that has known better days. Probably no living tourist would possess strength of mind sufficient to swallow a glass without making a face. But in the tough ascent of the Niesen any liquid is welcome, and we tramp forward along the zigzag ascent not without a kindly feeling in favour of the little auberge and its reserved tenant.

There is no getting at the panorama bit by bit in scaling the severe pyramid-this frowning outpost of the Oberland. But, once reach the summit, and you are rewarded by a view that is universally admitted-admitted, that is, by the comparatively few judges who have qualified themselves to compare to excel the great prospect from the Righi-kulm. It is not uncommon to hear the Righi spoken of in a tone of depreciation, and the view from its summit undervalued. This is a great mistake. The Righi has long been a hackneyed mountain, and the stream of tourists discharged across it increases instead of diminishing as years roll on.

But the circumstance that more eyes annually gaze upon it, and that all sorts of ungainly artificial luxuries are multiplied on the summit of that noble hill, can detract nothing from the real magnificence of the panorama; and it would be hard to find higher praise of the Niesen view than saying, what is the truth, that it is decidedly finer than the Righi view. It is so, principally because the great Oberland chain is so much nearer the Niesen, the details of every peak being traceable with wonderful distinctness. From the clear, sharply-defined summit, you look straight down upon the Bernese plain, on at least four or five considerable valleys with the chains of mountains that flank them, and on the lakes of Thun and Brienz, with the Interlaken isthmus between them. The splendid snow region commences on the extreme left

with the Wetterhorn (11,500 feet) and a part of the Grindelwald glacier. The Schreckhorn, Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau come next in order, every one of them towering more than thirteen thousand feet into the air, and the outline of the "Monk," as seen from hence, fully justifies the popular name of the peak by its manifest resemblance to a cowl, halfdrawn over the head. The Gletscherhorn, Mittaghorn, Tschingelhorn, and Grosshorn hold a prominent place in the majestic line; and, further to the right, the Blümlis Alp spreads wide and lofty, with the Doldenhorn at its side. On the extreme right are the mountains of the Gemmi Pass, with some glorious giants of the Valais, among them the Dent Blanche (13,421 feet). The remote and delicate peak of the Finster Aar-horn (14,000 feet) is not visible from the Niesen, but a part of Mont Blanc may be made out in very clear weather. To the north the view is closed by the Jura chain.

A serene morning in summer at sunrise, and during a few hours afterwards, is of course the pearl of seasons for enjoying this great scene. But, next to a clear and cloudless morning view, we should be inclined to set the grand effect produced by a light and sweeping mist, which lifts at intervals, by turns hiding and revealing the mountain glories. We once witnessed the beautiful results of such a mist, drifting up from the valley of the Kander. At first it appeared that our ascent of the hill had been made in vain. Only twenty minutes below the summit the sun had been powerful, and the sky clear; but on the summit itself the mist seemed impenetrable. At length, without any visible motion or change in the vapour, a dim vision of remote and snowy heights glimmered across the distance, like a shadowy glimpse of a world beyond. Nothing was as yet seen of the nearer chains, still less of the valleys below; but presently, with one silent, complete, and glorious removal, the mist was seen to disappear from before us, and the whole wide and unsullied realm of the Oberland lay bare, every peak looking burnished by some unusual access of light. Five minutes more, and the curtain was again let down; only to be again drawn up as each act in this majestic, tranquil drama was brought on by the capricious breezes. Between whiles we were favoured with studies of separate peaks, the Eiger, the Schreckhorn, or the Jungfrau being revealed to us, now in full blaze of sunlight, now in half or even quarter light, but still with surprising distinctness.

The inn on the top of the Niesen deserves a traveller's sincere tribute of praise. It is

plain and simple, with nothing of the grandeur of a "Hotel Righi-kulm" about it. The little maiden who waited on us at table had lived in service at Interlaken, and knew the ways of hotels. But she preferred the simple mountain height, and was glad that on the Niesen summit there was no room for a very large inn.

In the hotels at Interlaken "there was trop de luxe : she would rather spend her days here than there." The less degree of luxury, however, tolerated on the Niesen, does not preclude the comforts of capital plain cooking, good beds, and perfect cleanliness.

The descent of the Niesen may be made in little more than two hours by any one with a sufficiently strong pair of legs to stand the strain of continually cutting corners, and running down the steep slopes that lead from angle to angle of the zigzag. The delta, already large and annually increasing, around the mouth of the Kander, which was turned into the Lake of Thun by a canal cut in 1714, should be explored before leaving the neighbourhood of the lake. The canal is 3000 feet long, and nearly 300 feet broad, looking more like a ravine than a canal. The lovely promontory of Spietz contains a château of great antiquity; popular opinion on the spot is divided, some authorities giving the credit of its foundation to the Romans, and others to Attila.

The Lake of Thun is fairly exempt from squalls and storms; but two points are marked as being dangerous for small boats, and are named "Le lit froid des enfans," and "Le mauvais conseil." Being scantily provided with legendary stores, the neighbourhood makes shift with the exploits of St. Beatus, who turned a dragon out of a cave in the Beatenberg which he designed for his own occupation, and who was in the habit of navigating the lake on his outspread cloak, which served him well as a boat.

BY THE NIGHT TRAIN.

H.

"You must travel alone, then, Ned, my boy. It is a tiresome thing, but it can't be helped. At latest I shall be at Cin good time on the wedding morning. Tell Carry so, with my love," said my father, laughing off his vexation at being thus peremptorily detained in London. These were the circumstances of the case. My engagement—a two years' engagement, insisted upon by my own parent no less than by Admiral Lethbridge, that the " young people might know their own minds," most unreasonable and unnecessary as the delay had appeared to those principally concerned-was drawing to a happy close. I was to marry dear pretty Carry Lethbridge,

with

with the full consent and approval of both families. The wedding-day was drawing near, and my sister, Clara, who was to be one of the bridesmaids, was staying at CCaroline and her mother and sisters, in anticipation of the ceremony. Rear-Admiral Lethbridge resided at C, and there, of course, the marriage was to take place. And my father and I had intended going down to C- some three days before the wedding, and taking up our quarters at the hotel there. By the merest hazard, or apparent hazard, the execution of this plan was prevented, so far as my father's share in it was concerned.

Let me explain how matters stood. My father was a widower, and he had but two children, Clara and myself. It was well understood that his considerable property was to be divided between us at his death, the larger share accruing to myself as his only son. He was a great merchant ; few names were held in higher respect in the world of commerce than that of John Henley, and indeed it was owing to his very high reputation for commercial sagacity and business experience that the delay in his leaving London originated, with all its after consequences.

Mr. Henley had been summoned as a witness before a Parliamentary Committee of the House of Lords, and it had been notified to him that although, in consequence of frequent adjournments, his evidence might not be called for for a day or two, it was necessary that he should be in actual attendance, lest "My Lords" should find the private bill in hand pass more rapidly through its preliminary stages than was expected. The Parliamentary lawyer by whom my father was subpoenaed was civil enough to add that the committee could by no means dispense with Mr. Henley's very valuable testimony and advice.

"Very complimentary; but uncommonly tiresome," said I, really annoyed, in spite of the usual unselfishness of a young man and a lover; for my father and I were on terms of much confidence and affection, and I was aware that he had looked forward to this trip as one of his rare holidays.

"The Lethbridges will be sorry, and so will
Cannot you come, after all?”
My father laughed.

Clara be.

"No, no, Edgar," said he; "I should expect to see Black Rod draw my curtains at the dead of night, come to take me into custody for petty treason at least. Committees must be obeyed. But never mind! I shall be with you on Saturday, before the wedding breakfast is laid out, or the postilions have pinned on their white satin favours. And now I

must be off to Westminster. night train, of course?"

My father and I shook hands, and we parted. It was then about the hottest time of a sultry afternoon in summer. The month was June according to the almanack; but as far as temperature went, it might have been August, so still was the heated air, stirred by no kindly breeze. It was one of those days which, to a man cooped up in the stifling city, suggested an almost resistless longing for green fields and clear streams, and the sweet fresh breath of the woodlands. As I paced the glaring white pavement, baked and gritty under the sunbeams, I thought joyously of my approaching emancipation from the wilderness of brick and mortar. To-morrow I should be walking slowly and happily by Carry's side along the familiar meadow paths, through the long grass speckled with daisies and golden kingcups, and past the huge horse-chestnuts that towered aloft like pyramids of snow-white blossoms. To-morrowbut what mattered my expectations, never to be realised? It is mercy that withholds from our eyes, in such a case as mine, with what the morrow may be fraught.

Nor

I turned into Bond Street, where a double stream of carriages flowed slowly and strugglingly past, and where the crowd of lounging foot passengers was at its height. But the accustomed sights of coroneted hammercloths, priceless horses champing the silver-mounted bits that held them back at every fresh "lock" and stoppage of the entangled equipages, and well-dressed ladies leaning back languidly in their well-appointed barouches, and bound for the Park, were scarcely heeded, so busy were my thoughts with the future. A few hours and I should be far away; a few days, and Caroline Lethbridge and Edgar Henley would have started on life's voyage together, as prosperous and happy a young pair as ever determined to face the world, side by side. had I much superfluous time on my hands. One or two places I had to call at, and afterwards I was engaged to an early dinner at my club with two or three of the oldest and best of my bachelor friends, anxious, as they said, to "see the last of me." My preparations for leaving London were all but complete. My packing was done, and it had been settled that my father's old servant, who was the most punctual and steady of men, should convey my effects to the railway terminus, so that my own proceedings might be unembarrassed by any anxiety respecting portmanteau and hat-boxes. I did not expect to be in London again for some time, since we had agreed to spend the first months of our married life in Germany and Switzerland, and there had even been

My first call was at the shop of the wellknown court jewellers (Miles and Henderson), and its object was to fetch away a certain set of pearl and ruby ornaments which my father had ordered, and which were his present to his future daughter-in-law. Mr. Henley had looked forward with pleasure to placing these costly toys in the bride's hands; but since he had been compelled to postpone his arrival at C-, he had goodnaturedly, but firmly, insisted that I should take the jewels down with me, and give them to Carry in his name. I had not seen the design of the ornaments, but I was aware that the device was a new and well-chosen one; and from my father's liberality, of which I had since childhood received so many proofs, I had little doubt that the gift would prove to be a splendid one.

As I was in the act of opening the jewellers' door, a man passed me so closely as to brush my elbow, and, turning his head, looked me for a moment in the face. His own face was a remarkable one, or rather would have appeared remarkable elsewhere than in London, where the natives of all countries are every day to be met, jostling each other unnoticed in the midst of the great seething stream of restless human life that fills our streets. This person, evidently a foreigner, was about forty years of age, wore spectacles, a bushy redbrown beard, and a threadbare suit of black, shabby, but well brushed and neat. So far his appearance corresponded more or less accurately with that of a legion of professors, doctors, and philosophers, dubious hangers-on of the learned professions, whom Red Republican tenets and police hostility have landed in the limbo of Leicester Square. But I could not help feeling a thrill of repugnance and dislike at the aspect of that broad, flat, white face with its Tartar coarseness of feature, the sharp white teeth just visible between the thin lips, and the long narrow eyes blinking catlike through the glasses of the spectacles. Can you fancy a white-faced tiger, badly pitted by the smallpox, walking erect in human guise, and stealthily pursuing his way through a jungle, not of trees, but of houses? Such was the impression which the first glimpse of that foreigner's face made upon me. In the next I laughed at myself for my folly.

"The poor man cannot help his ugliness," said I to myself, as I followed the shopman to his employers' studio on the first floor, near the glittering show-rooms; "he is a Russian,' of course, too advanced in political ideas, no doubt, to please the Czar and the police préfet. Not a very pleasant person, though, to trust