"Anna Catherine Egger, who was paralytic and lame, was publicly brought to the grave of the saint, and there, in a few moments, received the full use of her stiffened limbs.'

"At Silten in Wallis lived the daughter of Michael Weibel, who had been three whole months quite blind. No sooner had she promised a pilgrimage to the grave of the Holy Nicholas than she received her sight. In the perfect use of her eye-sight she accompanied her father to Saxeln, there to return thanks to the saint and fulfil her vow.'

"John Weler, a man of Brienz, in Canton Berne, had so wounded his eye, as to cause blindness. Medicine proving useless, he came to Saxeln, and whilst praying at the grave of the saint, his eye was made whole again.'

"Mary Elizabeth Laggar was dumb from her birth to her seventh year. Her parents then undertook a pilgrimage to the grave of the Holy Nicholas; and the same day their child began to speak.'

...

Nicholas of Einwill, a landman' at Sarnen, became quite blind by a sad accident. The sixth day they conducted him to the grave of the Holy Nicholas, where, with many tears, he offered his prayer. Accomplishing nothing there, they were obliged to lead him back to his home again blind: but in the following night a voice called to him to look np; he did so, and found that he really saw. His sight continued, and he enjoyed it during the rest of his life.'

"Egidius Murer had a little son, who accidentally got a piece of pointed wood so deeply forced into his neck, that his mother, at her second attempt, could scarcely draw it out. A severe swelling arose from this wound. They carried him to the grave of Saint Nicholas, where the swelling disappeared, and the wound, which was horrible to behold, was immediately healed.'

66

"The first day after his burial Nicholas appeared to his pious wife Dorothea, and to other pious acquaintances. He stood on the so named Flüleiu, where the handsome chapel is now erected, and gave out from his person such wonderful glory that people's eyes could hardly bear it: he held a white banner in his hand, which he waved victoriously and joyfully.' By such lies have the priests of Unterwalden been maintaining the impious practice of saint worship and image worship, among a simple people, in aid of the Harlot Church of the Apocalypse, and of the pretended Vicar of Christ; the end of whose tyranny is thus predicted by St Paul: 'Then shall that wicked (one) be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming: even him whose coming is after the working of Satan, with all power, and signs, and lying wonders, and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish; because they received not the love of the truth that they might be saved. And for their cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie. This strong delusion still reigns among these lovely mountains; evangelic preaching is prohibited, and miraculous medals of the Queen of Heaven, or prayer to Bruder Klaus, have superseded trust in the Redeemer.

"For a few minutes we halted before the church of Saxeln, and entered to see the trophies of Bruder. The eight columns, each of one piece of marble from the quarries of the Melchthal, are not the chief treasure of the Church. For there lie Bruder's bones beneath the high altar, and there is his holy cell. Pictures and offerings without number celebrate his achieve ments in favour of his suppliants. Believe the storied walls, and you might expect to bear a charmed life, which neither fire nor flood, neither frost nor precipice, nor epidemic, malady, nor hostile rage could harm, if you only supplicate his favour. But we did not see all. Costly robes, it is said, covering the skeleton, leave bare only the bony hands and skull; into the holes where eyes were wont to inhabit, there have crept, as t'were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems;' and at stated times the skinless idol, with its stone eyes, comes forth to grin horribly a ghastly smile' upon the enthusiastic pilgrims for the benefit of the cool, calculating priests. How soon will Catholics learn that there is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus?'...

A CATHEDRAL SERVICE.

"On Sunday, at half-past eight, I visited the cathedral at Lucerne which was nearly full, while crowds were still arriving. I could not stay to the conclusion; but never did I attend a more stupid service, as far as I could judge. First, I heard some discordant rattling of the priests, intended to be a chant, in the obscurity behind the great altar: then came forward a

priest before the altar, and after having curtsied, took out a gilded box, which he held up; whereupon a servant boy tingled the ritual bell, and all the vast crowd bowed down their heads, as Hindus would do at the presence of Juggernaut. This done, the priest withdrew his box, the attendant extinguished the candles of the altar, and for a moment all was silent. Then followed a bell from a distant altar in the east end of the cathedral, at which again all the crowd bowed down; and boys were seen rushing off with the candles from this second altar to the vestry. After this dumb show, forth stood a coarse, soulless-looking old priest, with a fleshy, hanging under lip, which seemed as if it had quarrelled with its fellow, never more to meet, who rose into the pulpit; and there, without prayer, without once looking at the people, continued to read for a quarter of an hour, from a quarto black book, and from separate bits of paper, while the great bell of the cathedral drowned his voice with its roar.....

EVENING PRAYERS.

"After dinner we heard the bell of the village chapel at Brunner, and hastened to the vespers. The service was worthy of Catholicism. Though the priest was ill, this presented no impediment, as another functionary officiated in his room. About ten little girls, headed by three old women, were arranged close to the door of the chapel; and within the iron railing round the altar, at the other extremity of the building, was a man in a fustain jacket, with his boys. The north side was occupied by the man, who was aided by three boys, of whom one was without his coat; and two other boys knelt on the south side. The two parties within and without the railing kept up such a rattling recitative as could scarcely be matched. First the fustain man and his boys gabbled fast and loud, then the girls gabbled as fast and loud in return; on which up rose the boy in his shirt sleeves, and aided the discord by tolling the chapel bell; and at this signal a boy on the south side of the altar started from his knees to pull another bell; while the fustian man and all the boys and girls precipitated their rival roaring, till the bells, the boys and girls, the old women, and the man of fustain, made up such a thundering melodrame, as became the land of storms and cataracts, of avalanches and earth-slips. The performance being ended, out rushed the man of fustain, with all the children, pell-mell, without a moment's interval, like school-boys rushing out to play; and I saw him take his place among the boatmen on the little wooden pier, like a sheep which, when released from the shearer, walks to its companions, and shakes itself with a sort of cold and uncomfortable satisfaction that the annoyance is over......

THE JESUITS OF LUCERNE,

"To the right of the hotel, acros the Reuss, rises the capacious church of the Jesuits; to the left, still nearer, is the cathedral; both are consecrated to a sour superstition; and along the promenade, between these churches, it is surprising to see how many priests present themselves to the public view. Old priests and young priests, Jesuits in their broad hats, looking like educated men, and friars of coarser stupidity. But one priest I especially viewed with dislike. He was a fine-looking man, followed by a servant in livery. Two sleek and rotund priests, whose obesity was radiant with smiles, and on whose cheeks the perspiration seemed to exude the gravy of the last jollification, lackeyed him one on each side; between whom he stalked in full-blown clerical pretension, the very beau ideal of ecclesiastical pomposity. Huge calves and delicate ankles, resplendent in lilac silk, supported his enormous trunk, with its array of ornaments: more corpulent than his well-fed clerical lackeys, he was likewise so tall, that they were obliged to simper upwards when they turned towards the sunshine of his Prelatic condescension. He looked exactly what he was-the Nuncio of the Pope, Monseigneur Maciati, Archbishop of Colosse, &c.; and to him, in concert with these restless and aspiring Jesuits, must be ascribed the intolerance of the canton. No man in that canton dares to express an opinion against the Church of Rome, on pain of fine and imprisonment; no man dares to give an evangelical tract to his neighbour; all discussion of religious truth is prohibited; to be a Protestant is to be stripped of all political rights, and even a Catholic must lose them if his wife be a Protestant. Thanks to the Nuncio, the Jesuits, and the priests, this is the law of the whole confederation of the Sonderbund. . . . . .

KING LEOPOLD-CRUCIFIXES.

"On our road to Stein we had met the carriages of the

shroud the country, and also the liability of the weather to sudden and extreme changes."

The trade carried on by the Company is in skins of all sorts, oil, dried and salted fish, feathers, quills, &c. &c.

"Beaver, in days of yore, was the staple fur of the country; but, alas! the silk hat has given it its death-blow, and the star of the beaver has now probably set for ever-that is to say, with regard to men; probably the animals themselves fancy that their lucky star has just risen. The most profitable fur in the country is that of the marten. It somewhat resembles the Russian sable, and generally maintains a steady price. These animals, moreover, are very numerous throughout most part of the Company's territories, particularly in M'Kenzie's River, whence great numbers are annually sent to England.

"All the above animals and a few others are caught in steel and wooden traps by the natives; while deer, buffaloes, &c., are run down, shot, and snared in various ways, the details o which will be found in another part of this volume.

"Trade is carried on with the natives by means of a standard valuation, called in some purts of the country a castor. This is to obviate the necessity of circulating money, of which there is little or none excepting in the colony of Red River. Thus an Indian arrives at a fort with a bundle of furs, with which he proceeds to the Indian trading-room. There the trader separates the furs into different lots, and, valuing each at the standard valuation, adds the amount together, and tells the Indian (who has looked on the while with great interest and anxiety) that he has got fifty or sixty castors; at the same time he hands the Indian fifty or sixty little bits of wood in lieu of cash, so that the latter may know, by returning these in payment of the goods for which he really exchanges his skins, how fast his funds decrease. The Indian then looks round upon the bales of cloth, powder-horns, guns, blankets, knives, &c., with which the shop is filled, and after a good while makes up his mind to have a small blanket. This being given him, the trader tells him that the price is six castors; the purchaser hands back six of his little bits of wood, and selects something else. In this way he goes on till all his wooden cash is expended, and then packing up his goods, departs to show his treasures to his wife, and another Indian takes his place. The value of a castor is from one to two shillings. The natives generally visit the establishments of the Company twice a-year-once in October, when they bring in the produce of their autumn hunts, and again in March, when they come in with that of the great winter hunt.

The number of castors that an Indian makes in a winter hunt varies from fifty to two hundred, according to his perseverence and activity, and the part of the country in which he hunts. The largest amount I ever heard was by a man called Piaquata-Kiscum, who brought in furs, on one occasion, to the value of two hundred and sixty castors. The poor fellow was soon afterwards poisoned by his relatives, who were jealous of his superior abilities as a hunter, and envious of the favour shown him by the white men.

"After the furs are collected in spring at all the different outposts, they are packed in conveniently sized bales, and forwarded, by means of boats and canoes, to the three chief depots on the sea-coast-namely, Fort Vancouver at the mouth of the Columbia River, on the shores of the Pacific; York Fort, on the shores of the Hudson's Bay; and Moose Factory, on the shores of James' Bay, whence they are transported in the Company's ships to England. The whole country in summer, is consequently in commotion with the passing and repassing of brigades of boats laden with bales of merchandise and furs; the still waters of the lakes and rivers are rippled by the paddle and the car; and the longs silent echoes, which have slumbered in the icy embrace of a dreary winter, are now once more awakened by the merry voice and tuneful song of the hardy voyageur."

The sketch of the Indian hunter is one of the best in the volume. It is long, but we hope our readers will relish it. Our fair readers will find in it the history of all their boas and beavers :

"Suppose yourself, gentle reader, standing at the gate of one of the forts in Hudson's Bay, watching a savage arranging his snow-shoes preparatory to entering the gloomy forest. Let us walk with this Indian on a visit to his traps.

"The night is very dark, as the moon is hid by thick clouds, yet it occasionally breaks out sufficiently to illumine our path

to Stemaw's wigwam, and to throw the shadows of the neighbouring trees upon the pale snow, which crunches under our feet as we advance, owing to the intense cold. No wind breaks the stillness of the night, or shakes the lumps of snow off the branches of the neighbouring pines or willows; and nothing is heard save the occasional crackling of the trees as the severe frost acts upon their branches. The tent, at which we soon arrive, is pitched at the foot of an immense tree, which stands in a little hollow where the willows and pines are luxuriant enough to afford a shelter from the north wind. Just in front, a small path leads to the river, of which an extensive view is had through the opening, showing the long fantastic shadows of huge blocks and mounds of ice cast upon the white snow by the flickering moonlight. A huge chasm, filled with fallen trees and mounds of snow, yawns on the left of the tent, and the ruddy sparks of fire which issue from a hole in its top, throw this and the surrounding forest into deeper gloom. The effect of this wintry scene upon the mind is melancholy in the extreme-causing it to speed across the bleak and frozen plains, and visit again the warm fireside and happy faces in a far distant home; and yet there is a strange romantic attraction in the wild woods that gradually brings it back again, and makes us impatient to begin our walk with the Indian. Suddenly the deer-skin robe that covers the aperture of the wigwam is raised, and a bright stream of warm light gushes out, tipping the dark green points of the opposite trees, and mingling strangely with the paler light of the moon -and Stemaw stands erect in front of his solitary home, to gaze a few moments on the sky, and judge of the weather, as he intends to take a long walk before laying his head upon his capote for the night. He is in the usual costume of the Cree Indians: a large leathern coat, very much overlapped in front, and fastened round his waist with a scartet belt, protects his body from the cold. A small rat-skin cap covers his head, and his legs are cased in the ordinary blue cloth leggins. Large moccasins, with two or three pair of blanket socks, clothe his feet, and fingerless mittens, made of deer-skin, complete his costume. After a few minutes passed in contemplation of the heavens, the Indian prepares himself for the walk. First he sticks a small axe in his belt, serving as a counterpoise to a large hunting-knife and fire-bag which depend from the other side. He then slips his feet through the lines of his snow-shoes, and throws the line of a small hand-sledge over his shoulder. The hand-sledge is a thin flat slip or plank of wood, from five to six feet long by one foot broad, and is turned up at one end. It is extremely light, and Indians invariably use it when visiting their traps, for the purpose of dragging home the animals or game they may have caught. Having attached this sledge to his back, he stoops to receive his gun from his faithful squaw, who has been watching his operations through a hole in the tent; and throwing it on his shoulder, strides off, without uttering a word, across the moonlit space in front of the tent, turns into a narrow track that leads down the dark ravine, and disappears in the shades of the forest. Soon he reaches the termination of the track (made for the purpose of reaching some good dry trees for firewood), and, stepping into the deep snow with the long, regular, firm tread of one accustomed to snow-shoe walking, he winds his way rapidly through the thick stems of the surrounding trees, and turns aside the smaller branches of the bushes.

In

"The forest is now almost dark, the foliage over-head having become so dense that the moon only penetrates through it in a few places, causing the spots on which it falls to shine with a strange phosphoric light, and rendering the surrounding masses darker by contrast. The faint outline of an old snowshoe track, at first discernible, is now quite invisible; but still Stemaw moves forward with rapid, noiseless step, as sure of his way as if a broad beaten track lay before him. this manner he moves on for nearly two miles, sometimes stooping to examine closely the newly-made track of some wild animal, and occasionally giving a glance at the sky through the openings in the leafy canopy above him, when a faint sound in the bushes ahead brings him to a full stop. listens attentively, and a noise, like the rattling of a chain, is heard proceeding from the recesses of a dark wild-looking hollow a few paces in front. Another moment, and the rattle is again distinctly heard: a slight smile of satisfaction crosses Stemaw's dark visage, for one of his traps is set in that place, and he knows that something is caught. Quickly descending the slope, he enters the bushes whence the sound proceeds, and pauses when within a yard or two of his trap, to peer through the gloom. A cloud passes off the moon, and a

He

faint ray reveals, it may be, a beautiful black fox caught in the snare. A slight blow on the snout from Stemaw's axehandle kills the unfortunate animal; in ten minutes more it is tied to his sledge, the trap is re-set, and again covered over with snow, so that it is almost impossible to tell that any thing is there; and the Indian pursues his way.

"The steel-trap used by the Indians is almost similar to the ordinary rat-trap of England, with this difference, that it is a little larger, is destitute of teeth, and has two springs in place of one. A chain is attached to one spring for the purpose of fixing a weight to the trap, so that the animal caught may not be able to drag it far from the place where it was set. The track in the snow enables the hunter to find his trap again. It is generally set so that the jaws, when spread out flat, are exactly on a level with the snow. The chain and weight are both hid, and a thin layer of snow spread on the top of the trap. The bait (which generally consists of chips of a frozen partridge, rabbit, or fish) is then scattered around in every direction; and, with the exception of this, nothing distinguishes the spot. Foxes, beavers, wolves, lynx, and other animals, are caught in this way-sometimes by a fore-leg, sometimes by a hind-leg, and sometimes by two legs at once, and occasionally by the nose. Of all these ways, the Indian prefers catching by two legs, as there is then not the slightest possibility of the animal escaping. When foxes are caught by one leg, they often eat it off close to the trap, and escape on the other three. I have frequently seen this happen: and I once saw a fox caught, which had evidently escaped in this way, as one of its legs was gone, and the stump healed up and covered again with hair. When they are caught by the nose they are almost sure to escape, unless taken out of the trap very soon after being caught, as their snouts are so sharp or wedge-like, that they can pull them from between the jaws of the trap with the greatest ease.

"Having now described the way of using this machine, we will rejoin Stemaw, whom we left on his way to the next trap. There he goes, moving swiftly over the snow, mile after mile, as if he could not feel fatigue, turning aside now and then to visit a trap, and giving a short grunt when nothing is in it, or killing the animal when caught, and tying it on the sledge. Towards midnight, however, he begins to walk more cautiously, examines the priming of his gun, and moves the axe in his belt as if he expected to meet some enemy suddenly. The fact is, that close to where he now stands are two traps which he set in the morning close to each other, for the purpose of catching one of the formidable coast wolves. These animals are so sagacious that they will scrape all round a trap, let it be ever so well set, and, after eating all the bait, walk away unhurt. Indians consequently endeavour in every possible way to catch them, and, among others, by setting two traps close together; so that, while the wolf scrapes at one, he may perhaps put his foot in the other. It is in this way that Stemaw's traps are set; and he now advances cautiously towards them, his gun in the hollow of his left arm. Slowly he advances, peering through the bushes, but nothing is visible; suddenly a branch crashes under his snow-shoe, and with a sa vage growl a large wolf bounds towards him, landing almost at his feet. A single glance, however, shows the Indian that both traps are on his legs, and that the chains prevent his further advance. He places his gun against a tree, draws his axe from his belt, and advances to kill the animal. It is an undertaking, however, of some difficulty. The fierce brute, which is larger than a Newfoundland dog, strains every nerve and sinew to break its chains; while its eyes glisten in the uncertain light, and foam curls from its blood-red mouth. Now it retreats as the Indian advances, grinning horribly as goes; and anon, as the chains check its farther retreat, it springs with a fearful growl towards Stemaw, who slightly wounds it with his axe, as he jumps backward just in time to save himself from the infuriated animal, which catches in its fangs the flap of his leggin, and tears it from his limb. Again Stemaw advances, and the wolf retreats and again springs on him, but without success. At last, as the wolf glances for a moment to one side-apparently to see if there is no way of escape-quick as lightning the axe flashes in the air, and descends with stunning violence on its head, another blow follows, and in five minutes more the animal is fastened to the sledge.

it

"This, however, has turned out a more exhausting business than Stemaw expected; so he determines to encamp and rest for a few hours. Selecting a large pine, whose spreading branches cover a patch of ground free from underwood, he

scrapes away the snow with his snow-shoe. Silently but busily be labours for a quarter of an hour; and then, having cleared a space seven or eight feet in diameter, and nearly four feet deep, he cuts down a number of small branches, which he strews at the bottom of the hollow, till all the snow is covered. This done, he fells two or three of the nearest trees, cuts them up into lengths of about five feet long, and piles them at the root of the tree. A light is soon applied to the pile, and up glances the ruddy flame, crackling among the branches overhead, and sending thousanIs of bright sparks into the air. No one who has not seen it can have the least idea of the change that takes place in the appearance of the woods at night, when large fire is suddenly lighted. Before, all was cold, silent, chilling, gloomy and desolate, and the pale snow looked unearthly in the dark. Now, a bright ruddy glow falls upon the thick stems of the trees, and penetrates through the branches over-head, tipping those nearest the fire with a ruby tinge, the mere sight of which warms one. The white snow changes to a beautiful pink, whilst the stems of the trees, bright and clearly visible near at hand, become more and more indistinct in the distance, till they are lost in the background. The darkness, however, need not be seen from the encampment, for, when the Indian lies down, he will be surrounded by the snow walls, which sparkle in the firelight as if set with diamonds. These do not melt, as might be expected. The frost is much too intense for that, and nothing melts except the snow quite close to the fire. Stemaw has now concluded his arrangements; a small piece of dried deer's meat worms before the blaze; and, meanwhile, he spreads his green blanket on the ground, and fills a stone callumet (or pipe with a wooden stem) with tobacco, mixed with a kind of weed prepared by himself. The white smoke from this soon mingles with the thicker volumes from the fire, which curl up through the branches into the sky, now shrouding him in their wreaths, and then, as the bright flame obtains the mastery, leaving his dark face and coal-black eyes shining in the warm light. No one enjoys a pipe more than an Indian; and Stemaw's tranquil visage, wreathed in tobacco smoke, as he reclines at full length under the spreading branches of the pine, and allows the white vapour to pass slowly out of his mouth and nose, certainly gives one an excellent idea of savage enjoyment.

"Leaving him there, then, to solace himself with a pipe, preparatory to resting his wearied limbs for the night, we will change the hour, and conduct the reader to a different scene.

"It is now day. The upper edge of the sun has just risen, red and frosty-looking, in the east, and countless myriade of icy particles glitter on every tree and bush, in its red rays; while the white tops of the snow-drifts which dot the surface of the small lake at which we have just arrived, are tipped with the same rosy hue. The lake is of considerable breadth, and the woods on its opposite shore are barely visible. An unbroken coat of pure white snow covers its entire surface, whilst here and there a small islet, covered with luxuriant evergreens, attracts the eye, and breaks the sameness of the scene. At the extreme left of the lake, where the points of a few bullrushes and sedgy plants appear above the snow, are seen a number of small earthy mounds, in the immediate vicinity of which the trees and bushes are cut and barked in many places, while some of them are nearly cut down. This is a colony of beaver. In the warm months of summer and autumn, this spot is a lively stirring place, as the beavers are then employed in nibbling down trees and bushes, for the purpose of repairing their dams, and supplying their storehouses with food. The bark of willows is their chief food, and all the bushes in the vicinity are more or less cut through by these persevering little animals. Their dams, however (which are made for the purpose of securing to themselves a constant sufficiency of water), are made with large trees; and stumps will be found, if you choose to look for them, as thick as a man's leg, which the beavers have entirely nibbled through, and dragged by their united efforts many yards from where they grew.

"Now, however, no sign of animal life is to be seen, as the beavers keep within doors all winter; yet I venture to state there are many now asleep under the snow before us. It is not, reader, merely for the purpose of showing you the outside of a beaver-lodge that I have brought you such a distance from human habitations. Be patient, and you shall soon see more. Do you observe that small black speck moving over the white surface of the lake, far away on the horizon? It looks like a crow, but the forward motion is much too steady and constant for that. As it approaches, it assumes the form of a man, and