the tidings of peace, of which he was the bearer to Tuscany, when he fell sick, and reaching the convent of Babbio—where he was elected abbot—he died amongst his brethren. His body was interred beside that of Columban.
Such was the first prisoner of Chillon. Chillon is a prison at the present time; but no longer for prisoners of state. It contains now many criminals, and amongst them a young murderer, of good family. There is a chapel within the castle, in which the prisoners attend divine service.
Several pleasant acquaintances, rendered the weeks spent at Montreux still more agreeable, and I enjoyed many beautiful and sunny hours in their handsome homes on the shore of Lake Leman. I frequently met in these circles, Professor Jules Bonnet, who has published excellent biographical sketches of Olympia Morata, the daughter of Curione, and who is now occupied with inquiries into the fate of the Protestants in Italy. He is young, and himself Provençal, he declaims the naïve songs of the Provençal poet, Jasmin, in the most charming manner.
But “la Vandaine” blew violently; the poplars before my windows became ever more scant of leaves; the waves hurled themselves, with heavy blows, against the shore. I seemed, in the night, to hear in them heavy sighs. The withered leaves fell in the beautiful groves, “bosquets de Julie” and the autumn wind whistled—as it did everywhere else. I longed for repose in good winter quarters, and, towards the end of November, I returned to Lausanne.
