plains of Italy. No point of the Alps, through their far-extended ramparts, presents an opening so gentle and easy. According to some accounts, however, this particular part of Rhætia,—the Engadine,—was not peopled by the Romans till the invasion of Hannibal.

By the sides of the lakes, and over the passes of the mountains, may still be seen the track of the ancient chariot wheels, which bore the proud Romans into Rhætia. Ruined castles, once inhabited by these great masters of the world, mingled with the Donjons and the Keeps, and the mouldering towers of feudal times, are thickly set amidst the giddy precipices, the roaring torrents, the wild forests and lonely lakes of this romantic land. One ruined castle, of Roman ages, mentioned in the Itinerary of Antoninus, still stands upon the wild shores of the lake of Sils. A single tower is all that remains of its ancient strength; but to this, superstition has attached the most horrible legends, and it is the reputed haunt of midnight murderers, wild huntsmen, and even of unearthly demons.

Yet in spite of their superstitions, the people of the Engadine are of a noble race. Like most of the Swiss peasantry, they are not only farmers, but small landed proprietors; and all of them are legis

lators;—and their incorruptible integrity render them worthy of the ancient Romans, of whom they are the most genuine descendants now to be found in the world, both in blood and language. They intermarry constantly with each other, and allow no foreigners to settle among them. Almost all the itinerant makers of plaster figures, who perambulate every town of Europe with boards of images, come from the Engadine. Numbers of confectioners and toymen, likewise emigrate from hence, but they invariably return with the fruits of their industry and frugality, to enrich their native valley. The peace and quiet, and domestic contentment of their secluded cottages, afforded Lindsay a repose of mind which he had long sought after in vain;-and so few travellers had then explored this singular valley, that Lindsay was known among the peasants by the name of The Milord,' or the stranger,'-and they shrewdly suspected him of being some grand Prince in disguise.

One would have thought that the romantic scenery of the Ober Engadine, with its thirteen lakes, its ancient forests, its wild mountains, its terrific glaciers; its rocks, its waterfalls, its classic vestiges and its Gothic ruins, would have attracted every wanderer of taste;-while its curious

stratification, its various rich mineral productions, and the striking geological phenomena displayed amidst the vast unexplored chain of the rocks and glaciers, and immense fields of ice of the Monte del Oro and the Bernina mountains,-would have drawn the naturalist to a field of research so peculiarly interesting.

But travellers, like sheep, follow one another in the same track-and this can be the sole reason why Lindsay had the romantic Rhætia to himself.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE RUINED TOWER.

To this lone tower my wandering footsteps stray,
Whose mould'ring walls once own'd the lawless sway
Of doughty knight or feudal baron bold;
Now the owl's shelter or the robber's hold.

ONE evening, as Lindsay was returning from a long excursion, to the glacier of the Feet, and the Maloja, one of the wildest mountains of the Engadine, on emerging from a forest of pines, he stood for a few minutes to gaze at the extraordinary appearance of the sky. The sun had just sunk, leaving a deep lurid red over half the firmament, in which the clouds, rolling themselves in heavy masses, caught a terrific broken glare, and threw their stormy lights upon the naked rocky peaks of the mountain tops, and the white pyramids of the glaciers. Nothing could be more sublime, or more threatening, than the aspect of the heavens-and the

mournful whistling of the wind, heard rather than felt, amongst the rocks and blasted trees, sounded like the voice of the coming tempest.

'Seek your home, young man; or you will never live to reach it!' said a stern voice, suddenly, in English.

Lindsay looked round in astonishment, and caught a glimpse of a tall figure, apparently armed to the teeth, hastily disappearing in the thicket. The warning itself was extraordinary, but that it should be uttered in his native language from such a figure, and in such a place, filled him with amazement. He instantly followed the man into the thick underwood, but could see no traces of him; and he continued to penetrate further and further amongst the broken rocks and shaggy brushwood, yet still he sought him in vain. By the time he had begun to think that his pursuit was hopeless, and that it would be wise to follow the advice this mysterious personage had given him, and return home as fast as he could,—the waning light just enabled him to make the agreeable discovery, that he had lost his way, without affording him the smallest clue how to find it. The further he went, the more bewildered he became. Darkness fast closed in upon him, the wind howled louder and more furiously,