adventures, he being then nearly seventy-five, though his years sat lightly upon him. The family of Zumstein-or Delapierre as it is generally called, and of which our host also was a descendant-had been settled in Gressoney for more than four centuries, having migrated from Savoy in 1420. Many of them, in accordance with the custom of these valleys, had pushed their fortunes in Germany, during their residence in which their name was translated into Zumstein; and as M. Zumstein is known to the world by that name as the ascender of Monte Rosa, he prefers still to retain it. Many years before, while holding the appointment of Inspector of Forests in the Val Sesia, he acquired a thorough knowledge of all its recesses, and his information respecting them was most useful to us. As a preliminary excursion he recommended us to ascend the Pointe de Combetta on the ridge above the Col de Ranzola for the view of Monte Rosa, and at length, after fixing a day for the Lys Glacier, we set out to return to dinner, with the hospitable, but to us superfluous, farewell, which is universal at Gressoney, " Bon jour, bon appetit." The first greeting in the morning is, "Avezvous bien dormi?" the last at night, "Bon repos;" the general salutation between, "Bon appetit," or "J'espère que vous avez bien mangé;" a custom which speaks for the appreciation of creature comforts among the well-to-do Gressoneyers.

A pleasant walk, the rain having ceased, brought us back to St. Jean, where we turned in to look at the old house of Luscos. It had been converted into a café by the present proprietor, an Italian, but the principal room remained much the same as on Forbes' visit. Full-length portraits of Maria Theresa, and her husband Francis I., and of different members of the Luscos family from 1728 to 1809, an antique clock, and other corresponding furniture, gave an unusual air of substantial gentility to the comfortable room, at the end of which was a luxurious guest chamber. The charm of it,

however, was gone; the head of the family had followed his forefathers, having died the year before at the age of sixtyfour. We found the new tenant of the old family mansion the very reverse of his predecessor, and were rejoiced to return to Delapierre's hospitable roof.

While I was making a sketch of the valley from the meadows across the torrent, the Lyskam, now vividly clear in the blue sky after the rain, was suddenly lighted up by a glorious flush of sunset glow, of the richest rose and golden tints imaginable, while the deep glen was cast into dark purple shade, and long after the light had faded from the valley the bright snow crest was thus exquisitely illuminated. The wild Alpine cadences of the shepherds on the distant mountains were particularly musical and striking at Gressoney; and at night, seated by our blazing wood-fire on the hearth, as one answered another in the distance, or a group of peasants passed along the path singing part songs in excellent voice, the effect was charming.

The Sunday was a "festa," and the church well filled for the early service. After the usual mass, a sermon was preached from the altar-steps in German, and listened to with apparent interest. It was remarkable that there was no observable distinction of dress among the different classes of the female portion of the congregation, and I at first concluded that there were none but peasants. But we afterwards found that all alike, rich and poor, from the baron's daughter to his servant, wore the same costume and of very nearly the same material—a red skirt of coarse woollen cloth, a vest or boddice of the same, leaving the full snow-white sleeves uncovered, with a loose jacket of black cloth, often carried over the arm or laid aside. On great occasions, helmetcaps, richly embroidered with gold and silver lace and spangles, in the old German fashion, are worn by the women, differing according to their position. Married women and the wealthier young ladies wear one of richer character with

fan-shaped wings from ear to ear. A pleasant nook on the mountain side above the cascade of the Val Dobbia, and by the grassy edge of the rushing waters, afforded us a delightfully quiet and undisturbed retreat for the rest of the day.

The following morning was cloudless, and we availed ourselves of it to ascend the Combetta. A pack of mist crept up from the lower valley by degrees, threatening to obscure everything, but fortunately did not rise to any elevation up the mountain sides. Crossing the Lys, we made for a gorge on the opposite side of the valley, at the head of which the Col de Ranzola leads over into the Val d'Ayas, and to Brussone. The torrent had cut its course deep down at the bottom of the steep glen, now dwindled to a small stream, but the masses of boulders and shingle which choked its furrowed bed indicated the fury and volume of the winter and spring floods. Each side of the glen was covered with pine forest, and high on our left, overhanging us, the usual path led to the Col de Ranzola. We chose, however, to take the bottom of the glen for the wildness of it, and were repaid for the trouble. At some distance up it a bold promontory projected into the gorge, dividing it into two branches, and by a very steep path we clambered up among the roots of thick pines. It is so rapid that the painters of the Val Sesia, who pass it each year on their way into the Val d'Aosta, have given it the name of "baissez genoux," which it well deserves.

The successive views of the valley behind and below us increased in beauty every stage we gained of the ascent, and shortly the true summits of the snowy Monte Rosa burst into sight, gloriously dazzling through the dark pine branches, and gradually revealing themselves more and more as we mounted. Above the pines we landed on an open slope of pleasant green pasture covered with flowers, with a little cheese châlet in the distance. Straight before us was the Col de Combetta; the path to the Col de Ranzola taking to