against it the "foci et pingues tada"-" the well-heap'd logs and genial hearth"-and all the comforts we could procure: but there was an enemy beyond the power of these to resist. Most persons know how Baden is locally situated. It lies in a narrow valley, or on the sides of the hills which enclose it; and, with the exception of a single opening towards the extensive plains of the Rhine, is surrounded by the mountains of the Black Forest. In consequence of this locality, the fogs, which are frequent during the autumn and winter, and are made more noxious by exhalations from the woods, are unable to escape, and, resting upon the town, penetrate at times into every chamber-piercing through the neglected tuckings of the bed-covers like the point of a sharp knife. On most persons this has apparently no permanent effect. In some, however, it produces very painful symptoms in the chest, with a feeling of oppression about the heart; and it acted so alarmingly upon the health of one of the most estimable of our party that we determined to move at once to Carlsruhe. The thermometer had, up to this time, not fallen more than four degrees below zero of Raumur during the day; and though the ground had been covered with snow, it disappeared in about a week, leaving the mountain-sides as freshly green as before; and the brown leaves of many of the forest trees still mingled with the dark masses of the pine. The scenery from our windows-of wood, mountain, castles, villas, and pleasure-grounds-was, under every aspect, beautiful; and I left it with regret. Those who looked forward to the sport of

Chasing the wild boar and following the roe

(one of the chief of the more manly amusements of a Baden winter), were sorry to think how much I was sacrificing. They were sorrows which I did not myself very deeply feel.

It was on a dark wintry morning on the 24th of November that we took our departure for Carlsruhe. Our heavy effects were removed at a moderate expense by an honest carrier. We ourselves soon followed; and though the roads were very different from what they are seen by the summer tourist, our travelling-carriage got over the twenty-two miles in about four hours. A calèche, in which two of us followed, was not so fortunate. Between Rastatt and Ettlingen-one of the most tedious and dismal posts in all Germany-our horses were completely knocked up; not from our weight, for we were as light as possible, but from having been previously overworked. I never saw poor animals more distressed. They seemed unable to move another step; and the driver -whose conduct was most humane and disinterested-showed no disposition to force them. Plantés là, our situation was by no means agreeable. It was already a November sunset, and there were symptoms of an approaching snow-storm; not a house was near us; and, in former times, we might have fallen in with some of the gentlemen of the Forest. As it was, we had merely the pleasant prospect of an evening promenade as far as Ettlingen. To our great relief, however, we at last hailed a couple of peasants who were returning with four of their horses from the fields, and who agreed, after a short discussion, to take us to the end of the stage.

They certainly formed a very strange turn-out; they were both of them

more than usually tall, and grotesquely ugly; and their only visible dress consisted of a long grey military-looking cloak, with a covering of brown worsted for their heads, something between a fur cap and a Welsh wig. They were much amused at being converted into postilions; grinned, like "the small grey man" of a German legend-whenever they looked back at us; and, brandishing their long whips, drove on SO merrily that we upset a basket or a wheelbarrow at the corner of every street in Ettlingen. When we paid them the usual postilions' gratuity, their joy was boundless; and it was with some difficulty that we prevented their taking us on to Carlsruhe. Though it was night, and the snow had already begun to fall, we preferred making our entry in a less conspicuous manner; and in half an hour we had quietly joined our friends at the hotel. Few things in travelling are more agreeable than, after a little difficulty of this kind, to find oneself by a cheerful fire and a well-spread table; and we certainly did justice to the many good things which the worthy Gastwirth Stiefbold had set before us.

Of Carlsruhe, and of our subsequent movements, I shall have more to say. The present is merely intended to place us upon the ground.

POL PERRO.

BY FLORENTIA.

Sunday, November 8.-In the morning I rose early, and on entering the room assigned to us at Silley's Hotel, I was charmed by the view which the windows command of Falmouth harbour, stretching out before me in all its length and breadth,-Pendennis Castle on one side, and Trefusis Point opposite, marking the narrow entrance. The shape of the harbour is long and exceedingly graceful, the sides indented by figures in the hills, forming creeks and coves, containing ships of various sizes, the whole beautifully fertile and well wooded, presenting that succession of fine country seats usual in the vicinity of a large town. Seeing but little of the town, which lay on the side from which I looked, the harbour bore the resemblance of a lake, from the extreme breadth of the water and the narrow opening to the sea, in great measure concealed by the hill on which Pendennis Castle stands. Falmouth was formerly a town entirely belonging to the Killigrew family, and from their devotion to the Stuarts this fortress stood a long siege for Charles I., and was the last, with the exception of Ragland Castle, that stood out for the royal cause.

In the neighbourhood there is a farm, said to have been the scene of the frightful tragedy which formed the subject of Lillo's "Fatal Curiosity." The story runs, that a son, after many years of wandering, returns to his parents, now sunk in abject poverty, and incautiously displays his bags of gold, intended for them when he discovers himself on the morrow. After he had retired to rest, tempted by the possession of so much wealth,

and goaded by excess of poverty, the wretched pair murder him in his sleep. On the morrow their daughter arrives, who, being acquainted with the arrival of her brother, inquires for the stranger. The murderers at first deny having seen any one, but when pressed by the daughter, who in her agitation betrays his relationship, and mentions a certain mark on his arm by which she had ascertained his identity, the father rushes to the murdered corpse, recognises his son, and stabs himself with the knife still reeking with his blood. The mother, who had instigated the murder, also commits suicide in frantic despair.

Mais revenons à nos moutons. After we had breakfasted we started, and crossing a drawbridge over the harbour, proceeded up a steep hill, leaving to our left the fine woods and park of Sir Charles Lemon. On attaining a considerable elevation I had a fine view of the harbour below, with its numerous shipping, the town and the surrounding hills sweeping down to the shore in a succession of headlands around us. The country was barren, bleak, and dreary-just such a route as one might picture as leading to the Land's End. Everything was fastened down tight to preserve it from the effects of the wind; the roofs of the houses were strapped to the walls by straw ropes; all the stacks of hay were secured by cords; and the whole country looked exactly like a vessel stormrigged, with the dead-lights down, ready for a tremendous gale. As to gardens, such things were not to be seen, nor a single tree either. All the houses were built of blocks of granite roughly placed together, and the pigs walked in and out of the doors, evidently quite at home. Some round hills alone broke the monotonous plain, their outline intercepted by the engine-houses, whose tall chimneys rose in mockery of the picturesque, the ground near them turned over in the greedy search for metals, left uncultivated, rough, and bare, as though a curse were on it. The prospect was so depressing it positively made one melancholy, and I was quite relieved when we came to the pretty little town of Helstone, which looked neatness personified. Here were broad, straight streets, with little streams flowing on either side, a handsome church, and at the bottom of the principal street an elegant monument to some local favourite, who was thus immortalised. For some miles the country bore the same character of desolation as before, but as we approached near to Penzance everything altered in appearance. The cottages succeeded each other rapidly along the road and dotted the hill-sides, the whole country, as far as the eye could reach, looking like a vast village. The hills became better cultivated and more pleasing in outline, the very enginehouses looked less decayed, until at length, making the summit of an eminence, the most splendid view burst upon us. Beneath us lay Mount's Bay, displaying as in a map the whole of its most graceful outline. At our very feet uprose St. Michael's Mount, crowned with its timeworn church and lofty castle turrets. Beside it, and only separated by a narrow channel, placed on the edge of the bay, lay the Tower of Marazion. Two miles further, Penzance rose out of the very water, its buildings elegantly disposed terrace-wise on the side of a sunny hill, a rich wooded valley behind, chequered with country-houses, disappearing amid the undulating hills, which, rising aloft, ended the prospect. At this point of view the ocean was visible on either side, and I had the satisfaction of surveying England across, so narrow is our island here. To the right,

bordering the sea, was a chain of undulating hills of most charming form, waving in lines like the billows that washed their base, the sides covered with villages and churches, and broken into woody glens and romantic valleys. To the left lay a broad expanse of ocean, spread out in peculiar grandeur. From the height at which I viewed it, many vessels were visible, spreading their snowy sails to the breeze, the extreme line of the horizon marked by a mass of sunshine that glowed like a sea of gold. Far away on one side stretched out a barrier of rocks ending in the Lizard Point-a bluff, bold, rocky cape, frowning down on the deep sea in sombre majesty. Opposite, the bay terminates at Mount Point, a headland yielding in grandeur to its majestic neighbour the Lizard. Enclosed by these two points or headlands was the beautiful bay, bordered by sandy shores, so white and pure in colour as they glistened in the sunshine, one might have fancied them molten silver or shining marble. Oh, what a glorious view! How such a prospect elevates the mind to him the Creator of this fair universe! What heart so cold and dead but at such a sight must beat with quickened pulse, and rising in glowing adoration, offer its tribute of praise to that great Lord of all, who at his mighty word formed from dark chaos such transcendent scenes, planted the radiant sun above, placed limits to the surging deep, and commanded the eternal hills to rise around! I have seen but little, but still I can scarcely fancy a more smiling, lovely bay. Can Naples be more charming ?-or Lisbon ? Indeed I doubt it. To my idea it was perfect. Long, long did I gaze in rapt silence and wonder and delight, while from every side I drank in fresh draughts of admiration at the varied beauties around.

Arrived at the bottom of the hill, we stopped and dismounted, in order to proceed to the summit of the mount spoken of by Spenser as St. Michael's Mount. Who does not know

That wards the western coast

has been a place sacred to legends and traditions from time immemorial? And tales passing strange are recorded of the saint sitting on his rocky chair on the summit in all the majesty of heavenly radiance; but as we were favoured by no supernatural appearances, I shall simply relate our visit as it occurred, leaving to more learned authors deeply imbued in Cornish lore to treat upon its bygone glories. This bold and majestic pile of rock, consisting of huge masses of granite, partially covered by grass and ivy, rises abruptly to the height of 231 feet from the shore, from which a narrow channel divides it at high-water, and on the tide receding a pathway appears over the sand, thus verifying Carew's account of the mount being "land and island twice a day." After mounting a narrow and little-frequented pathway we reached the summit, and knocked at a low oaken door, studded with heavy nails and large hinges. We were at once admitted into a small square hall with doors all round, and passed into a room to the left, containing suits of mail, old helmets, shields, and all the paraphernalia of knights of high renown. Our guide now ushered us along lengthened passages (apparently that portion of the building devoted to domestic purposes), entering at last a charming morning room, whose windows commanded an enchanting view seawards. Furnished strictly in keeping with the antique character of the whole, the eye was unshocked by any reminiscences of modern luxury, the only

object calculated to lead the mind to the present century being the signature of the Queen, written at the time of her visit there, framed and hung up on the wall. Descending a few steps, we entered an immense apartment, at least fifty or sixty feet in length, formerly the refectory of the monastery, and wholly, apparently, unaltered from that time. The general appearance of this room was as unique and grand as can be conceived the lofty shelving ceiling, heavily crossed and groined with black oak, the carved points descending in a spiral form. An oaken table of immense height stood in the centre, and the walls were surrounded by chairs of the same wood, of uniform and ancient shape. Along the two sides of the room were long-shaped windows, ornamented with painted glass; and opposite the entrance rose a lofty fireplace, the heavy ornamental stone-work reaching almost to the ceiling, round which ran a fresco in stone; carving representing men, horses, and stags, from which the apartment is now designated "The Chevy Chase Room." To the left of the hearth was a large recess, with a table intended as a sideboard, lighted by painted glass windows. I was delighted with the perfect keeping of this room, which I can only compare to St. George's Hall at Windsor, although of course far less splendid than that gorgeous apartment.

We were now conducted into the drawing-rooms-large, fine saloons, furnished in the same style, lit by immense church-like windows on either side, affording most charming prospects. The inner drawingroom is the last room on that side of the castle, and juts out over the rock, looking towards the Lizard Point. The antique vases in the saloons were filled with fresh flowers, and the rooms had such an inhabited, comfortable appearance, I asked the guide whether the St. Aubyn family were not then residing in their grand baronial castle.

"No, they seldom come here," was the reply; "they prefer their modern seat at Clowance."

"Senseless individuals," thought I, "did I possess such a home, I should esteem every hour lost that was not passed within its walls!"

We passed through the bedrooms. In the principal or state-room the bed was placed in an arched recess, with a deep ruelle on either side, exactly in the French fashion, where royalty and the haute noblesse received such privileged friends as were intimate enough to be admitted to their levee. The beds themselves were splendid specimens of old oak carving, angels and saints forming the pillars in figures the size of life. But when we entered the chapel, all else was forgotten in admiration of its chaste and elegant appearance. It is of large size. Below the roodloft is the organ, and an immense golden chandelier hangs down over a vacant space. Above the rood-loft, the stalls extend up both sides to the altar, elegantly and lightly carved in oak, with slender pillars ending in a fine cornice. Over the altar are hung various carvings in stone, silver, and alabaster, framed in gold-ancient, strange things-the whole surmounted by an immense window of painted glass. Under the stalls, and near the altar, is a hole about eight feet square, approached by steps, down which we looked; this was an oubliette, and in it the skeleton of a man was found some time since.

I ascended the tower afterwards, which commanded a sublime view, the same objects being visible as from the part I noticed previously, only

Jan.-VOL. CIII. NO. CCCCIX.

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