Fair is the valley of Lauterbrunnen with its green meadows and overhanging cliffs. The ruined castle of Unspunnen stands like an armed warder at the gate of the enchanted¹ land. In calm serenity² the snowy mountains rise beyond. Fairer than the Rock of Balmarusa, you frowning precipice³ looks down upon us; and, from the topmost cliff, the white pennon of the Brook⁴ of Dust shimmers⁵ and waves in the sunny air!  
It was a bright, beautiful morning after nightrain. Every dewdrop and raindrop had a whole heaven within it; and so had the heart of Paul Flemming, as, with Mrs. Ashburton and her dark-eyed daughter, he drove up the Valley of Lauter-brunnen,--the Valley of Fountains-Only.
 
"How beautiful the Jungfrau looks this morning!" exclaimed he, looking at Mary Ashburton.
 
She thought he meant the mountain, and assented⁶. But he meant her likewise.
 
"And the mountains, beyond," he continued; "the Monk⁷ and the Silver-horn, the Wetter-horn the Schreck-horn, and the Schwarz-horn, all those sublime⁸ apostles of Nature, whose sermons are avalanches⁹! Did you ever behold¹¹ anything more grand!"
 
"O yes. Mont Blanc is more grand, when you behold it from the hills opposite. It was there that I was most moved by the magnificence of Swiss scenery. It was a morning like this; and the clouds, that were hovering¹² about on their huge, shadowy wings, made the scene only the more magnificent. Before me lay the whole panorama¹³ of the Alps; pine forests standing¹⁴ dark and solemn at the base of the mountains; and half-way up a veil of mist; above which rose the snowy summits, and sharp needles of rock, which seemed to float in the air, like a fairy world. Then the glaciersstood on either side, winding¹⁵ down through the mountain ravines; and, high above all, rose the white, dome-like summit of Mont Blanc. And ever and anon from the shroud¹⁶ of mist came the awful sound of an avalanche¹⁰, and a continual roar, as of the wind through a forest of pines, filled the air. It was the roar of the Arve and Aveiron, breaking from their icy fountains. Then the mists began to pass away; and it seemed as if the whole firmament¹⁷ were rolling together. It recalled to my mind that sublime passage in the Apocalypse; 'I saw a great white throne; and him that sat thereon; before whose face the heavens and the earth fled away, and found no place!' O, I cannot believe that upon this earth there is a more magnificent scene."
 
"It must be grand, indeed," replied Flemming. "And those mighty¹⁸ glaciers,--huge monsters with bristling¹⁹ crests²⁰, creeping down into the valley! for it is said they really move."
 
"Yes; it filled me with a strange sensation of awe²¹ to think of this. They seemed to me like the dragons of Northern Romance, which come down from the mountains and devour²² whole villages. A little hamlet in Chamouni was once abandoned by its inhabitants, terrified at the approach of the icy dragon. But is it possible you have never been at Chamouni?
 
"Never. The great marvel²³ still remains²⁴ unseen by me."
 
"Then how can you linger here so long? Were I in your place I would not lose an hour."
 
These words passed over the opening blossoms of hope in the soul of Flemming, like a cold wind over the flowers in spring-time. He bore it as best he could, and changed the subject.
 
I do not mean to describe the Valley of Lauterbrunnen, nor the bright day passed there. I know that my gentle reader is blessed with the divine gift of a poetic²⁵ fancy; and can see already how the mountains rise, and the

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