burst out into daylight, from under the turf; a singular apparition, and one which has naturally had a romantic legend attached to it. Schott relates the tradition, just as our guide did, that it flows from the "lost valley" in the heart of Monte Rosa, before alluded to* at Noversch. When its recesses were closed up from all human access by the encroaching glacier, they affirm that the torrent which ran through it, unable any longer to find egress, was compelled to force a passage underground; and after passing under the base of Monte Rosa, first emerged into light at the "brunnen" of Pecetto. It is remarkable that this ancient tradition of the lost valley should have existed, not only at Gressoney, but also at Saas, and even in the Val Macugnaga. The Gressoneyers, who imagined they first discovered it† in 1777, from the ridge of Monte Rosa, might naturally, as they no doubt did, mistake the Valley of St. Nicholas for a new and unknown region in the middle of the mountain; but it is difficult to say how the people of Saas or Macugnaga could have originated a similar legend. : From here back to Borca took us little more than two hours. At night we again betook ourselves to the kitchenchimney nook, by the roaring wood fire; one of the greatest comforts of the Albergo di Monte Rosa. Caterina Albesini was going with her aunt to the "cresima," or confirmation, held by the Bishop of Novara at Anzone next day and was radiant with joy at the prospect. She seemed far too young, and hardly capable of understanding the serious and important step. They are admitted as candidates at five years old, an age at which few children can be supposed to have attained any adequate idea of responsibility. Before we retired, all arrangements were made for the Monte Moro next day, and, the pass being said to be quite impracticable for mules, Delapierre declared his resolve that Mora should attempt it, and add to her laurels. * Page 271. Von Welden, p. 173. When we rose at five and looked out of the little casement, the clear moon in the last quarter was streaming down the glen of the Val Quarazza opposite, and the mountains leading to the Turlo were sharply defined and cloudless. By the time we had made a hasty toilet by candlelight, and drunk a bowl of warm coffee, day began to dawn. As we started, the rising sun was just tinging the summits of Monte Rosa, and gradually suffused the whole of its snowy points and precipices with the loveliest blush of its own especial rose hue, which deepened every minute, until golden tints gradually prevailed;—the rich rose changed to fiery orange, the glorious mass looking like an enormous cairngorm; then it paled to an exquisite primrose yellow; and that fading, at last the virgin snow was left in unsullied purity and whiteness, cold and still, yet glistening on its thousand pinnacles, ridges, and fantastic drifts, with the reflected sunbeams; the moon still high and clear in the heavens. Such a glorious scene alone was enough for one day; but we had before us the prospect of a more magnificent and complete view of Monte Rosa than any we had yet enjoyed in our tour almost round its entire mass; and, moreover, the last of the main passes of the Pennine Alps it was our fortune to explore. The bracing freshness of the frosty air was as exhilarating as the scene was glorious; and all started in such elastic spirits as are known only to the practised mountaineer. Mora, too, had entirely recovered from the severe effects of her strain on the Col d'Egua, and seemed likely to carry out Delapierre's determination that she should again do what no other mule had done in recent times. A halt was requisite at Macugnaga, to get some rough nails put into her shoes, and an object caught my attention. which more than fully occupied the half-hour's delay. By the side of a clear little burn at the foot of the Monte Moro, stood the ancient church of Macugnaga, or Arndorf as it is called, in a most picturesque situation; backed in the distance. by the lower mountains covered with pine forests; the limit of the dark Pinus picea and the higher larch distincly marked. Above the crest, now covered with fresh snow, rose the summits of the beautiful Pizzobianco and Monte Rosa. The building itself was of great interest; the pointed doorway with its mouldings, and the traceried windows, were of evident mediæval and foreign origin; the first traces of anything like Gothic architecture we had as yet seen in Piedmont. A noble linden-tree, its time-honoured trunk still surmounted by vigorous leafy branches, at once suggested its connection with the traditions of the old German fatherland, and here unmistakeably was the key to the problem of the German colonies, presented in these simple monuments, with a clearness which the laborious pages of Schott, Engelhardt, or Von Welden had failed to convey. Resolving to return to it at a future opportunity, I hastened to overtake the others, who were already commencing the ascent. A steep path led through pleasant open larch forests, and thence up the bare mountain side. We had no guide, and Delapierre had not crossed the pass for many years, so that we lost some little time in making out the best line of ascent for the mule. At length we hit the right track, and the fresh-fallen snow soon covered the whole mountain side. The sun had not yet reached it; the crisp hard footing it afforded was a most agreeable relief; and seeing what appeared to be a short and direct cut to the summit, I left E. and Mora with Delapierre to take the usual and more circuitous route. I had not, however, an idea of the real nature of the ground until I tried it. The ledges of outcropping strata, and mêlée of blocks covered with loose snow, often engulfed one bodily as the outer crust gave way-in an awkward crevice among sharp blocks, and I more than once repented the short cut. The tracks both of chamois and Alpine hares were abun |