was made. We thanked the father and the rosy maiden, and departed.
The road from Realp was a very rapid descent, so that I sometimes grew dizzy, looking at the depth down which I was carried, especially as my bearers now moved with less elasticity. But the air becomes ever milder. We look down into the extensive vale of Urseren, which, though still without trees, is splendidly verdant. Afar in the distance, upon the green-sward, at the foot of a lofty wall of mountains, shines forth, white and cheerful, a little town. That is Andermatt. And in the midst of the immense mass of mountains, we soon see the broad road of St. Gothard, which, in pliant sinuosities, winds along the heights, down into the vale; and we see heavy diligences, and carriage after carriage, rolling along it. Our weary little train proceeds through the green carpeting, and miserable roads of the Urserenvale, out upon the great high-road which seems to us to be thronged with people, driving, riding, and walking. I am delighted, both for my own sake and my bearers, when we reach Andermatt, and find comfortable quarters in the hotel of St. Gothard. The most difficult part of my journey is now happily ended, and I have taken care that my good bearers are as well supplied here as I am. Better and more satisfactory people cannot be found!
Altdorf, August 27th.—The memory of William Tell surrounds us here. They show the spot where Gessler placed the hat to which Tell would not bow; the place where Tell stood when he shot the apple from his little son's head, and where he afterwards ad-
