or girl, and whilst they thoughtfully examine the wares, and slowly reach for their small coin, the dealer has turned himself to other customers, in perfect security that he will be paid. He who shouts the loudest, and makes the most violent gesticulations, attracts the greatest number of people around him. Here descends one who is wearied with shouting, and another steps up to his place, with fresh vigor, earrings in his ears, moustache over his lip, and the look of a Merry Andrew. He takes a couple of belts in his hand, and begins—not to shout, but to roar and bellow, so that he can be heard over the whole market, and the voices of all the other dealers are overpowered. This produces great effect. The people leave all the others to gather around this stentorian shouter, and evidently expect an uncommonly curious spectacle. And amusing and uncommon was the scene, assuredly, and entertaining, also, beheld at the foot of buildings bearing the date of centuries, and of the snow-covered Alps, which stood around like a magnificent Colosseum, beneath the clearest dark-blue heaven! The sun shone warmly; the bells of the Cathedral rung. It was a scene of southern life!
One evening, I paid a visit to the Darbyite congregation. The Darbyites are a kind of modern Quakers. Their community is governed by its elders; priests they have none. Any person can speak in the church, according to the inspiration of the spirit. I believe that the founder of the sect, Mr. Darby, an Englishman, is still living. Of late, the sect has found numerous adherents at Lausanne, and in other parts of the Canton Vaud. The Lausanne congregation was, this
- Vol. I.—17
