house where the birds were shut | up, the door was opened, and out marched a turkey-cock and hen! the former, rejoicing in his release from confinement, immediately commenced his Arabic. The Persians who came from Kazeroon were lost in astonishment, while our two friends looked at each other with that expression of countenance which indicates a doubt, between an inclination to laugh or be angry, the former feeling, however, prevailed. Their merriment surprised the Persians, who, on being informed of its cause, seemed disappointed to hear that the birds, which appeared so strange to them were very common, both in India and England. From the account given by the possessor of the turkeys, it appeared that they had been saved from the wreck of a vessel in the Gulf, and had gradually come to the part of the interior where they then were-Sketches of Persia. gregation consists entirely of peas sants, partly Piedmontese and partly Valaisans. The order of Bernardines was properly Augustine, till moulded into its present form by St. Bernard, A.D. 962. He is said to have found ed one hundred and sixty monasteries and convents, and this has survived most of them. The num ber of monks varies from time to time, but usually consists of twenty or twenty-five, all natives of the countries north of the Alps. They are enjoined to board and lodge all strangers and passengers, at all seasons, and assist them with guides in traversing the mountains, without charge or cost. In winter, their rules command them to send every day, whatever may be the weather, two able and powerful men, called Maroniers, who are accustomed to the mountains, one towards the Italian side, the other towards Valaise. These traverse the pass the whole day, attended by one of the great dogs, keeping a path open in the snow, and watching for pas¬ THE HOSPITAL OF ST. BER- sengers. NARD'S. If the Maronier meets with any person bewildered or exhausted, or if his sagacious companion indicates by his movements that any unfortunate being is under the snow, he returns with all speed to the Hospital to give the alarm. Several of the monks then instantly set out with restoratives, to be used, if the object of their care is not too far gone. Four carry the body, while the rest go forward to trample the snow, which is often more than twenty feet in depth, and give facility to the advance of their brethren. THE Hospital, or Convent of St. Cold water, with ice immersed in it, is prepared as the most effica cious remedy, and the body placed it: whenever this fails in re, storing animation, all hope is at an end. The dogs are of a large, and, it need not be added, a sagacious breed, originally from Spain. The largest of the race, called Jupiter, was in high esteem about four years ago, from the number of lives he had saved, and was considered more than usually sagacious. In the year 1827, he rescued a woman and child from death under the following circumstances: It appears, he knew some one had passed near the Hospital, and set off alone immediately to follow them. After some time his absence was remarked; and one of the Maroniers, by pursuing his track, found him posted over the drift where the poor woman and her child were about to perish. Several of the dogs have been brought to England; one now in the possession of a gentleman in Gloucestershire, has fallen under our observation; his disposition, however, from change of living and want of his accustomed air and exercise, must have been much altered, for he had grown so cowardly, as to run away in terror from the smallest dog. His length from head to tail was above six feet, his size and height in proportion, and his colour, a yellowish-brown. He had become heavy and dull, owing to the total change in his habits; but was perfectly good-tempered, and a general favourite. A NIGHT AT THE HOSPITAL IT was early in August, and it may The distance from Martigny to the Great St. Bernard is about thirty miles. We had not advanced far in the deep ravine between the terraced rocks, through which the road lies, before the sun had made it little better than a furnace; I felt a lassitude, weariness, and thirst, at first distressing, then agonizing; at the sight of every fresh spring, which ever and anon crossed our path, hastening downwards into the foaming Drance beneath, I took out my folded leather three-cornered cup, and drank heartily. This was perceived by the Guide, who cautioned me that all the springs on this eastern side of the defile were strongly impregnated with lead, and that if I continued to drink of them, I should never reach The monks of St. Bernard are, the Hospice alive. With my parchfor the most part, hale, strong men; ed lips and throat, to be told not to yet few of them live to an advanced drink, when, such was the roar of age: this may well be attributed to the torrent on all sides, I could the personal deprivations and hard-scarcely hear the guide speak, seemships they must suffer. They are simple-minded, and sincerely devoted to the good work in which they are engaged; and they claim our respect for that charity towards their fellow-creatures, which induces them to persevere in a course of patient endurance, and of exertion and difficulty quite sufficient to account for their generally premature old age. ed nonsense, and I observed, that, as there was no poison in the glacier torrent of the Drance, which was tumbling and foaming and thundering along its rocky bed, surely I might drink of that stream without danger? To this he assented, remarking that it was one of the few glacier torrents of which it was safe to drink; but he knew at the same time that, from the depth of its channel, it would be The road, till noon, ran along that side of the ravine which exposed us to the full glare of the morning sun; after noon, it took a turn over the torrent, and, consequently, so long as there was any sun shining, we had it. Another inconvenience was, that the road was one continued ascent, becoming sensibly steeper at every quarter of a mile, till even the larches disappear, a certain sign of the height in the mountain pass to which we had attained. We were still six miles from the Hospice; six miles of steep and rugged road, amidst huge fragments of rocks scattered on all sides in the little plains among which the road winds its way. Here vegetation entirely ceases; on all sides is desolation and a desert. If a plant happens to take root during the few sunny days that shine out upon this land of fogs, the avalanches, the frost-riven rocks that are incessantly falling from the heights, dislodge from its temporary bed every thing that grows, and carry it down to the depths of the dell, where it is again covered in another year by new wrecks and ruins. Fortu very gloomily around us. By this time we were surrounded by the Monks themselves, and most kindly welcomed. They led us to the door, aided the party in dismounting, and ushered us into a noble hall, where, shivering, weary, hungry, and exhausted, as we all were, every thing necessary for our comfort was immediately spread before us. The sudden contrast of the last The sight of all this ruin, to- minute partook, indeed, of the magether with the rapidly increasing gical; not a minute before, we were coldness of the air, and the cer- cheerless, half-frozen, miserable, tainty that for the six remaining destitute travellers, making our miles not even a log-hut would be painful way to an unknown asymet with, urged me to renewed ef- lum, through fields of snow and forts, especially when I considered among mountains of ice. Now we what my chief companion might stood in a spacious hall, lighted up endure in mind and body, if we to its most distant corners by a were overtaken by night amidst magnificent fire, pile upon pile of such fearful and desolate scenery. wood crackling and flaming, and Having wrapped her well round betokening from its ample hearth with an ample dreadnought travel- the kind and abounding, and coning-cloak, I roused myself to re-siderate hospitality that prevailed newed exertions by my endeavours to cheer her. in this noble institution. A table of ample dimensions was prepared At length the sun set; when that for a liberal meal; glasses glittered disappeared, night presently follow-over its whole surface; thirty or ed, and darkness began to gather forty bottles of wine stood by the D side of as many plates, and about a score of English gentlemen rose from their seats to congratulate us on our safe arrival, and to announce that now we had arrived, the supper would be served. Upon this we retired to our several sleeping apartments, to which the monks themselves conducted us, to make such preparation as a few minutes would permit. Here, again, was new matter for astonishment. In the apartment we were to occupy was a flaming wood-fire, abundance of hot water, a regular English four-post full-sized bedstead, with scarlet moreen hangings, a capital feather-bed, and every other comfort that we could desire in our own bedroom at our own English dwelling. I was literally astounded; wherever we turned, we saw around us in this house, placed as it is among eternal snows, in the loftiest Alps, comforts, nay, luxuries, literally English, which we had not met with even in the first-rate hotels of Paris, or in the well-furnished hotels of the German cities. When we rejoined the party, we found a multitude of hot dishes smoking on the table, and our appearance was the signal for each to be seated. I appeal to all who have supped at the Grand St. Bernard, whether they ever met with a better selected variety of viands, than they met with at this hospitable board. There was great variety; dishes suited to every taste, to every conscience; meats and vegetables in abundance; but no ostentation, no profusion; enough and to spare appeared to be the rule and law of this most hospitable house. But here were no servants to fee, no bills to pay; the accommodation and fare inferior in nothing to those supplied by the first hotels in Europe, such as to leave nothing to be asked for; and all this accomwith the most polite atten tion, and the least possible appearance of providing. Such are the arrangements at the justly famed Hospice of the Great St. Bernard, and such is the willing testimony that a grateful traveller pays, for the kindness with which he was once received there. But I have tarried long on this mountain pass, and must prepare to descend from it, not, however, without taking leave, and again caressing our four-footed favourites. One, who had of himself saved several lives, was especially pointed out as invaluable, from his superior sagacity and courage. Immense were the obligations that travellers owed to this noble animal, and wonderful and pleasing were the anecdotes recorded of him. His three companions had also their meed of praise; but they were younger, and had not seen so much service. After long delay, and much petting and patting and caressing, we at length took final leave of these powerful, sagacious, gentle, and interesting dogs; their subsequent fate is melancholy. Within four months from the day we parted from them, they were carried down into the deepest depths of an awful ravine, and buried many hundred feet deep, by an unlooked-for and desolating snow avalanche, which was set in motion by a drift wind. One of them, which had not advanced so far in the defile as the rest, was saved; the others were never again seen nor heard of. Scarcely any occurrence could have created greater consternation at the Hospice than this melancholy event; it was in some respects irreparable, for such at the time was the dangerous state of the passes, that it was impossible to call in their two or three remaining dogs from Martigny and Sion. Even when they arrived, considerable time must elapse before their sagacity could be sufficiently exercised to enable them to track the footsteps of man beneath the snow, which falling for days and weeks together, obliterated every path. THE GROTTO OF ADELSBERG. Ar Adelsberg, in Carniola, on the great road to Vienna, is a remarkable grotto, which has only been extensively explored within a few years. The following description of this famous grotto is extracted from the letter of an American clergyman, who lately visited it. "I must premise," he says, "that the country around is calcareous, that there are a great many grottees in various directions, and holes in the earth's surface, the depth of which cannot be fathomed. The grotto of Adelsburg is the most wonderful. A small river falls into it, and the first sound which you hear as you descend, and leave behind you the light of heaven, is that of the rush of waters. Our guides, six in number, had preceded us with abundance of candles, cut into lengths sufficient to burn for a few hours. "We first walked along a natural bridge, under which the river passes, lighted from a gallery above, and then descended by an easy flight of steps, cut in the rock, to the water's edge. Here we found a wooden bridge thrown across the stream, from which the lights above and the reflection below, produced a sight of wonderful sublimity. We advanced with ease through the windings of the cavern, which at times was so low as to oblige us to stoop, and at times so high that the roof was lost in the gloom. But every where the most wonderful varieties of stalactites and crystals met our admiring view. At one time we saw the guides lighting up some distant gallery far above our heads, which had all the appearance | of verandahs adorned with Gothic tracery. At another, we came into what seemed the long-drawn aisles of a Gothic cathedral, brilliantly illuminated. The whimsical variety of forms surpasses all the powers of description. Here was a butcher's-shop, which seemed to be hung with joints of meat; and there a throne with a magnificent canopy. There was the appearance of a statue with a bearded head, so perfect that you could have thought it the work of a sculptor, and further on, toward the end of our walk, the figure of a warrior with a helmet and coat of mail, and his arms crossed, of the illusion of which, with all my efforts, I could not possibly divest my mind. Two stalactites, descending close to each other, are called, in a German inscription over them, with sentimentality truly German, the union of two hearts; and it must be confessed that the resemblance is very striking. "After passing The Hearts,' we came to the Ball-room. It is customary for the inhabitants of Adelsberg, and the surrounding country, to come on WhitsunMonday to this grotto, which is brilliantly illuminated, and the part called the ball-room is actually employed for that purpose by the peasantry. A gallery very appositely formed by Nature, serves the musicians for an orchestra, and wooden chandeliers are suspended from the vaulted roof. It is impossible for me to describe minutely all the wonderful varieties; the 'Fountains' seeming as they fall to be frozen into stone, the 'Graves' with weeping willows waving over them; the Picture,' the Cannon,' the Confessional,' the 'Pulpit,' the Sausage-maker's shop,' and the 'Prisons.' "I must not omit mentioning one part, which, though less grand than many others, is extremely D 2 |