Dear little couple; good luck go with them, happiness, content, and plenty. There was something quite touching in their youth, tenderness, and simplicity, and as they drove off in their carriage for the honeymoon, Lady Jane flung the very identical satin slipper after them which Ella should have lost at the ball.

LIFE IN VENICE.*

degeneracy is to be attributed in the main to the decline in Venice of almost everything that is great or beautiful since her subjection to Austria. The Venetians themselves do not frequent the theatres very much, the audiences being for the most part composed of Austrians, and of people from some of the other states of Germany. During the performance, the whole house presents a singularly tame and cheerless aspect; there is an utter absence of gayety, either in dresses or manners, and no Venetian lady who has anything of a position to maintain ever goes to the opera at Venice. Mr. Howells patronized the numerous puppet-shows that are to be seen here above almost every other kind of dramatic exhibition, and constantly went to the theatre of the Marionnettes, and of a kindred class of puppets called Burratini (clowns or fools). Of the performance of one of these latter companies of automaton actors our author gives the following humorous account:

ALTHOUGH often described before by various travellers and tourists, Venice will always afford matter for an entertaining volume; and at the present time especially, when affairs on the Continent are looking so ominous in that quarter, such a work is likely to prove very acceptable to a large number of English readers. The book now before us is the narrative of a three years' residence in Venice, by a representative of the United States government. The work was completed and prepared for press two years ago, but the proof-sheets were not at the time corrected by the writer, and the consequence "I only remember to have made out one of their is that the pages over-run with typographical errors. comedies, a play in which an ingenious lover procured This is much to be regretted, as the book is in other his rich and successful rival to be arrested for lunacy, respects beautifully printed. The author's style and married the disputed young person, while the other throughout, in common with many of the writers of was raging in a madhouse. This play is performed to his country, is deeply tainted with " Americanisms" enthusiastic audiences; but for the most part, the faand slang; and a few national prejudices, together vorite drama of the Burattini' appears to be a sardonic with that old and deep-rooted dislike of Englishmen, farce, in which the chief character -a puppet ten inches which is found so often among Americans and cer-high, with a fixed and staring expression of Mephistotain of our continental neighbors, occasionally rephelian good-nature and wickedness - deludes other and weak-minded puppets into trusting him, and then veal themselves. However, notwithstanding these beats them with a club upon the back of the head until objections, the book is interesting, and in some re- they die. The murders of this infamous creature, which spects valuable, as presenting to the reader a very are always executed in a spirit of jocose sangfroid, and minute and lively picture of the every-day life of a accompanied by humorous remarks, are received with people concerning whose domestic habits but little the keenest relish by the spectators; and, indeed, the has hitherto been written. This part of his subject action is every way worthy of applause. The dramatic Mr. Howells seems to have studied very elaborately spirit of the Italian race seems to communicate itself to and attentively; but he has likewise a keen eye for these puppets, and they perform their parts with a fidelthe picturesque and beautiful, and, although his nar- have witnessed death-agonies on these little stages which ity to theatrical unnaturalness which is wonderful. I rative is sometimes deformed by the mannerisms we the great American tragedian himself (whoever he may have just mentioned, he describes all the grand and happen to be) could not surpass in degree of energy.. noteworthy objects and scenes which he witnessed Their audiences, as I said, are always interesting, and in Venice with a highly graphic pen. comprise, first, boys ragged and dirty in inverse ratio to their size; then weak little girls, supporting immense weight of babies; then Austrian soldiers, with long coats and short pipes; lumbering Dalmat sailors; a transient Greek or Turk; Venetian loafers, pale-faced, their shoulders; young women with bare heads of thick statuesque. with the drapery of their cloaks thrown over black hair; old women, all fluff and fangs; woodenshod contadini, with hooded cloaks of coarse brown; then boys and boys."

When our author first arrived in Venice from Vienna, after his journey by rail and gondola, he abandoned himself entirely to that careless life of indolence and ease which he noticed as common

among most of the inhabitants of the city; and, as there was generally "something rare and worthy to be seen," either in the way of architecture or sculpture, or, failing that, in "interesting squalor and picturesque wretchedness," his time was always pretty well occupied, his attention being less taken up, as he himself observes, "in proper objects of interest, than in the dirty neighborhoods that reeked with unwholesome winter damps below, and peered curiously out with frowsy heads and beautiful eyes from the high, heavy-shuttered casements above." The theatres of Venice were the chief sources of amusement with Mr. Howells during his first win: ter's residence there, as he passed a considerable portion of his time in visiting the different places of dramatic entertainment. He went, however, much more frequently to those houses where comedy and melodrama form the staple of the performances than to the opera, as the latter was but indifferently done, although the Venetians, according to our author, are quite as fond of music now as they ever But they no longer cultivate it, and this

were.

• Venetian Life. By W. D. HOWELLS. London: Trübner & Co.

This kind of play or comedy was the principal amusement in the way of dramatic art among the Italian nation, generally, until the middle of the last century, when Goldoni, some of whose plays are written in French, either introduced or restored the regular acting comedy to Italy; but in almost all his comedies (or at least those written in the Venetian dialect) are to be found many of the low buffoons who figure so conspicuously in the commedia a braccio, or "comedy by the yard," which took its rise from the Marionnette drama, and was so called because the outline of the plot and action of the piece was all that the dramatist supplied, the performers furnishing the dialogue, which they generally invented extemporaneously as the play progressed. Several of the dramatis person in the commedia a braccio, such as Arlecchino, Pantalon, Scaramuccia, Polichinelle, or Punchinello, and others, appear to have a decided affinity to the charac

and meet him, to calm my impatience. As I went | and strong alpenstock; my French companion had on and on, and at last reached his residence without nothing but a switch; I had only a short and light catching sight of him, I began to feel some appre-walking-stick, terminating, however, in an iron point. hensions, which very soon were justified. I found him in bed, with his head tied up in a bandage stained with spots of blood. He had met with an unlucky fall overnight. He was in a fever, and his

ing can be more praiseworthy in the Venetian character generally than its desire for liberty, and its sacrifice of everything pleasant in life for the attainment of that which is great and noble; and he considers that the Venetians ought immediately to be made free.

THE MOLÉSON.

"WHAT is the Moléson?" you will probably ask. Baedeker, the best tourists' guide to Switzerland (who leads you step by step, over hill and dale, by paths which he has explored himself, and who keeps innkeepers a little in check by the mention he makes of their various prices), replies in these laconic terms:

"The Moléson (6,172 feet), a continuation of the Jaman, the most advanced summit of the plateau, the Rigi of western Switzerland, an exceedingly abrupt cone in every direction, recognizable in all the panoramas of this region, surrounded by numerous pastures and forests, possesses a flora of peculiar richness. No habitations are to be found on this eminence, except a few wretched hovels a league from the top. Extensive panorama. The paths are impracticable for horses. At Albeuve, guides may be obtained at moderate charges." A more recent edition (the sixth) adds, "The ascent is usually made by starting from Bulle (4 hours), from Gruyère (3 hours), from Semsales or from Vaulruz on the western slope (3 to 3 hours). We by no means recommend this latter path; because, at the outset, you pass over another steep mountain, which you have to redescend, solely to reach the foot of the Moléson. Refreshments, and four (?) beds, at the châlet Plané, one hour from the summit."

ing the ascent of our beautiful and beloved Fribourgian mountain, the Rigi of occidental Switzerland,” you see he talked like Baedaker's book," and at least the rival, as far as the view is concerned, of the other Rigi, which is so much cried up." And then he enumerated, with the complacency of a person thoroughly full of his subject, the long list of his Moléson's merits, until he brought the water into my mouth. But what gave me one of those longings, which lay hold of you and pursue you whereever you go until they are fully satisfied, was his peroration overflowing with Swiss sincerity.

"I must tell you, however, that my mountain is both steep and savage; that the only shelter it affords are dingy châlets; that the entire ascent must be made on foot; that there is no beaten track to the top, which is somewhat difficult to reach, and may even offer a certain amount of danger, unless your head is steady and your step sure. But you will be abundantly recompensed at the summit, especially if the sun allows you to witness his levée; besides which you will gather the rarest flowers, pleasure denied by the Rigi's sterile ridge, in spite of its inferior elevation."

We arrived early at Fribourg, distant only an hour by rail from Berne. We reached the town by the grand suspension-bridge, from which you step almost immediately into the Zähringen hotel. There I took leave of my amiable fellow-traveller. He told me his name; but the weakness of my memory, not the ingratitude of my heart, has caused me to forget it. Immediately on entering the house I begged the landlord, M. Kussler, to find me up some excursionists bound to the famous Fribourgian hill, whose strongly-marked features I first caught sight of from the Pont de Gotteron, a structure even higher and bolder than the Grand Bridge itself.

On returning to the hotel, mine host presented me to M. Mauron, one of the Cantonal Councillors of State, and to M. Vogt, organist to the cathedral. The former had expressed his intention of scaling the Moléson the following day; the latter was going to perform, that evening, on Aloys Moser's celebrated organ. The artist was worthy of his instrument; he moved his audience even to tears. Nothing but the sacredness of the spot prevented outbursts of applause.

I had already seen a portion of Switzerland. From Zurich I had crossed the Albis, my first and facile acquaintance with mountains. From Zug and Arth I had performed the splendid and comfortable ascent of the Rigi, with beaten paths from the base to the kulm, liberally garnished with châlets, inns, and hotels, offering every necessary and almost every luxury. I had gone over the Brunig (before the carriage road was open), reached the pure blue glacier of Rosenlaui, and yet remained utterly ignorant of the Moléson. As some excuse, allow me to state that, before venturing alone into Switzerland, On returning to the inn, the morrow's excursion I had consulted sundry special itineraries, drawn up was our principal topic of conversation; and M. by experienced hands for the use of persons want- Mauron told me that he would provide not only a ing to see the greatest possible number of remarka-guide, but a whole heap of useful articles, -a teleble objects in the shortest possible space of time. In scope, a map, not to mention provisions. The none of these was the Moléson even mentioned. prospect was all the more delightful, that Councillor Mauron was a highly-educated man, with a lively imagination, an original turn of mind, and, in spite of some sixty years, still in possession of excellent legs. I was, therefore, not surprised to learn that he had been tutor to Prince Nicholas Youssoupoff, a Russian grandee, immensely rich.

But on the 29th of July, 1861, while travelling by rail from Berne to Fribourg, I had not reached the first station before I found myself conversing with a Fribourg notary. What better companion can you have than a notary, to give you a complete inventory of all and everything? It is proverbial that, in diligences, people make acquaintance rapidly; in a railway carriage the same thing is effected still more speedily, because you understand that you have not a minute to spare, if you want to pick up a little local information. Our conversation, therefore, for me, was both interesting and interested.

As to Fribourg itself, I knew very well what I wanted to see there; so I inquired for no more than the name of the hotel the most advantageous in all respects. But I insisted about the environs worth visiting.

We separated rather late in the evening, intending to meet next morning, the 30th of July, at half past seven; to breakfast together, and start, at nine, for the little town of Bulle, at the foot of the Moléson. Notwithstanding the fatigues of the day, I slept but little that night. The ascension which I was about to make had taken a strange hold on my fancy. And I was much surprised at the circumstance, being now no longer a novice to the impressions of mountain scenery.

At five in the morning I was awake and stirring, "As you are going to Vevey," he said, "it is and in another hour ready to depart. At half past quite out of the question that you should omit mak-seven, as no M. Mauron appeared, I resolved to go

and meet him, to calm my impatience. As I went and strong alpenstock; my French companion had on and on, and at last reached his residence without nothing but a switch; I had only a short and light catching sight of him, I began to feel some appre-walking-stick, terminating, however, in an iron point. hensions, which very soon were justified. I found him in bed, with his head tied up in a bandage stained with spots of blood. He had met with an unlucky fall overnight. He was in a fever, and his doctor had forbidden him to leave the house.

We did not remain at La Part-Dieu more than a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, and started again, but this time more slowly and with greater fatigue. The ascent became more and more steep, more and more difficult. Sometimes we had to My frank request, expressed in few words, was cross soft and spongy bogs, hidden beneath rank immediately granted with the best grace in the herbage, and made just passable by round stumps of world. They were a Frenchman and two gentle-firwood placed close to each other, and forming, men of Fribourg, speaking our language (French) after all, only a very unstable and wearying causeperfectly. I did not learn their names and qualities way. (nor did they mine) till afterwards; but I soon discovered that I was in company with three young and generous spirits.

to the hovel, summoning a remnant of strength, I scaled an eminence to enjoy the spectacle of the fiery orb sinking, in floods of light, behind the long dark-blue wall of the Jura. I then directed my steps to the châlet, having before me the brown and arid peak of the mountain, which overhung our present station at an elevation of five or six hundred yards. This final stage of the ascent would take at least an hour to accomplish, especially as we were to perform it in the darkness of night. The scheme seemed venturesome, if not perilous, and, I confess, made a strong impression on my mind.

At this moment all the cattle were returning home to the châlet. They were a numerous herd of cows, goats, and swine, each with a little bell fastened to its neck. The tinkling of this multitude of bells, soft in sound and diverse in tone, made a singularly harmonious accompaniment to the shadow and silence of the mountain.

I found my companions in a vast and murky shed, settling the conditions of our board and lodging with three or four tall mountaineers, as black as soot, who were keeping up the fire, without any chimney, beneath an enormous caldron, in the midst of pungent smoke, which could only escape by the chinks in the roof. But at the same time I noticed, in this darksome den, rows of large wooden bowls full of milk and cream of immaculate whiteness. The contrast was particularly striking.

northeast, broad sheet-lightning, unaccompanied by sound, shed a feeble gleam over huge masses of cloud. Overhead, in the north, shone the Great Bear constellation, brighter than ever in its twinklings, and still surmounted by the long-taled comet which, already pale and small, was plunging almost perpendicularly into the abysses of the firmament.

This spectacle, beheld from such a spot and under such circumstances, could not fail to produce its soothing effects. Feeling calmed and refreshed, I was preparing to lie down again (but with the window open), when the châlet's wooden clock, with discordant creakings, struck one in the morning, Sundry lowings and bleatings beneath me responded to the sound, and I gave up all notion of going to sleep again, remembering that, at half past two, we were to begin our climb to the mountain-top.

For some time I had been thinking about our imminent and adventurous expedition, when I heard my companions getting out of bed. A few taps on the partition informed them that I should soon be with them. At a quarter to two I was in their chamber. The smoky-smelling lamp had been relighted, and they were making some coffee with the aid of a spirit-lamp. At half past two our coffee was drunk, our hotel bill paid (the charges were by no means so modest as the accommodation), and the door of the châlet closed upon us.

To gain the first slopes of the peak, we had only One of the black goblins who haunted the place, a few hundred steps to set, but, gracious heavens, and who spoke nothing but harsh German gibberish, what a path! Fancy a black, boggy soil, so trodden showed us up a rough, mill-like, ladder staircase, in- by cattle that it was impossible to avoid putting your to a chamber whose whole furniture consisted of two feet into holes, which frequently were the cause of narrow rickety beds, two benches and one table, on stumbling. It is true the night was very dark; but which he placed a smoky-smelling lamp, a black, this state of things suited me all the less that one of compact, and heavy loaf, some little bowls full of my feet had received a slight hurt, my shoe having milk, and wooden spoons of the most primitive pat- grazed the skin a little above the heel. Notwithtern. The milk was sweet and good, excellent, de-standing which, the critical moment soon arrived licious; but the bread-! Such is the cowhouse and piggery combined which has been promoted to the rank of une espèce d'auberge, and which is known in the neighborhood as the Plianney, or Plané. It was lucky for us that we had brought a small reserve of provisions with us.

About half past nine we thought of going to bed; but not being able to make up my mind to share one of the luxurious couches before me, I caused inquiry to be made of our savage hosts whether they could not put me into some out-of-the-way corner, garnished with a bundle of straw and a truss of hay. They conducted me, without any light, into a little attic full of aromatic hay, and with no other opening besides the door and a wicket closed by a solid wooden shutter. My bed was soon made, and I was stretched upon it, undressing no further than my shoes and gaiters. In a few minutes I fell asleep, lulled by the talk of my travelling companions, from whom I was separated only by a thin partition, which allowed the light to glimmer through it from the shrinking of the wood. Weariness had overpowered me.

Unfortunately, I was soon awake again, streaming with perspiration, in a high fever, and with a splitting headache. I was instantly aware that the strong and penetrating odor of the mountain hay had induced the first symptoms of suffocation. Consequently, jumping up, I'forced open the wicket to

let in fresh air.

when the brunt of the ascent was to be grappled with. Our arrangements were speedily made. The two Fribourgians, armed with their alpenstocks, formed the van and led the way. The two Frenchmen, with their small walking-sticks, were in the rear. We marched in Indian file, slowly and prudently, following exactly each other's footsteps.

Moreover, the slope was abrupt and steep, and the rock-a loose sort of pudding-stone-anything but solid under our feet. At a certain elevation, on suddenly hearing some stones rolling down behind me, I instinctively stretched out my hands, clinging firmly to the rocks, and even to the ground. Then, for the first time, I looked back; and, at the sight of that dark chaos of shadows, at the sound of the pebbles leaping down hill, I halted involuntarily. A bar of iron compressed my chest, and a cold sweat burst out upon my forehead. This painful emotion soon passed away, and I speedily rejoined my friends, who continued their march before me, silently and slowly. You see that I have no intention to boast, and that I am not afraid of confessing those few moments of weakness, to which the most resolute nature might temporarily yield.

After some three quarters of an hour of up-hill toil, we rested ourselves for a few minutes, and then first perceived, in S. S. E., the thin, sharp edge of the waning moon, scarcely illuming the sky with a pale and doubtful glimmer. At the same time the darkness of the night appeared to diminish just the least in the world.

Breathing, bareheaded, the cool breeze of night, with half my person thrust outside, I tried to look We did not reach the much-wished-for summit before and below me. In all directions, impene- until very nearly four in the morning. The sky was trable darkness. But on the horizon, towards the | but slightly paling in the east; it would be three