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New Acquaintance-Lake Wallenstadt-Ragatz-The Baths of Pfeffers-Chur-The Road to Tusis.

HE first persons our travellers saw when they went on board the steamer which was to convey them to Rapperschwyl, were those alluded to at the close of the last chapter: namely, the young lady (who, from being somewhat pale, acquired a sudden colour at sight of them); her mother, a ladylike woman still in the prime of life; and her father, a tall, dark man, whose air and carriage were unmistakeably military.

From having exchanged a few words at dinner the day before, the gentlemen at once entered into conversation, and Gerald was invited to take a vacant seat beside the elder of the two ladies, which he afterwards exchanged for one between them.

His lively manners and high spirits soon made him at home, and they had not been an hour on their journey before they were as much at their ease as if they had known each other for years.

Meanwhile Mr. Becham and the gentleman of the party had been conversing in the fore part of the

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vessel, whither they had gone to enjoy the freshness of the breeze. After some time they came aft together, and the gentleman, approaching his wife, said:

'Allow me, my dear, to introduce to you Mr. Becham of Becham Hall, the son, I find, of an old college friend, of whose death I heard only a few months ago. Mr. Becham, Lady Salford, my daughter, Mr. Becham.'

Lady Salford and her daughter bowed in answer to the introduction; and after a few remarks about the beauty of the scenery they were passing, Mr. Becham and Colonel Sir Walter Salford again went forward.

'And are you a Becham too?' inquired Lady Salford of Gerald, when the two gentlemen were out of hearing.

'Oh no, madam,' he answered, with a little more reserve, now that he discovered the rank of his companions; I am Gerald Langton.'

'Oh, you are Gerald Langton,' repeated the lady with a smile. 'A cousin, perhaps, of Mr. Becham's?'

'No, madam; no relation at all. My father has not been long dead, and Mr. Becham is taking me to Rome, to make me an artist, he says.'

'That is very kind of him; but have you no mother?'

'No, madam; she has been dead many years.' 'Poor boy,' said the lady in an undertone, with a sigh.

'I suppose,' observed the younger lady, whose

name Gerald soon discovered to be Grace, ‘that if you are going to Rome to learn to become an artist, you are fond of drawing.'

'Oh yes, very. I learnt, you know, at school; but I haven't been regularly taught yet, and Mr. Becham tells me I shall have to begin all over again.'

'I suppose,' said Miss Grace, 'you did the usual cottages and trees, and fishermen walking on the beach, that were touched up by your master before you took them home?'

'No, he never touched up mine,' answered Gerald quickly; but he used to get me to help him to touch up some of the other boys'.

They were now drawing near their landing-place; and as they were a party of five, and were all travelling in the same direction, they determined to hire an open vehicle to convey them to Ragatz, their next stopping place, instead of pursuing their road by diligence.

This was accomplished after some little trouble, for none of them knew too much German, and Gerald's was the best French of the whole. However, where people are on both sides willing to treat, they soon find some medium of communication, and a bargain was at length struck.

Their road from Rapperschwyl lay along the edge of the blue-green water of the lake as far as Ulznach, and many pretty spots were passed before they reached that town. But in proportion as they advanced, the scenery assumed a bolder character,

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until at length they reached the bank of another most romantic lake, that of Wallenstadt, which afforded them pictures grander and more wildly beautiful than anything they had yet seen.

Many an exclamation of delight broke from them as they passed along, for the landscape changed almost as rapidly as if touched by a magician's wand.

At times they found themselves carried along a precipitous shore, with the opposite bank frowning savagely over the clear water. A huge cavern would then for a time engulph them; and as they issued again into the sunlight, they found a smiling picture, made up of gabled houses surrounded by vines, with bits of rock placed as if to produce the most dramatic effect, overhanging the water, and with a richly wooded mountain for a background, displaying here and there patches of such vivid green, that they could liken them only to the well-mown lawns of the dear old country. In fact, none of the elements. which are requisite to make a beautiful landscape were wanting, and the sun shone from out the blue heavens in a way that made the heart glad and grateful.

Tears stood in Grace Salford's eyes as she gazed. 'You are not suffering, dear?' inquired her mother, as she observed them.

'Oh no,' was the answer, in an undertone, as she gently shook her head, and put her hand in her mother's. I am very happy.'

It is true they were not tears of sorrow or suffer

ing, but rather of joy and happiness. The sense of the exceeding beauty of God's works, acting upon a grateful nature, was the source of her emotion, and tears were the language by which her feelings were expressed. It was indeed a language more eloquent than any words, and excited in the breast of Mr. Becham, who sat opposite her, a sentiment of delicate sympathy.

The romantic situation of Ragatz at the mouth of a gorge, and surrounded by lofty mountains, struck the whole party with wonder and delight. The Salfords had determined upon remaining there some few days in order to test the value of the hot springs for which it is famous; but as Mr. Becham and his young companion intended starting again next morning, the ladies were easily persuaded to accompany them at once to the old baths of Pfeffers, between two and three miles distant, and which were pronounced by Sir Walter, who had visited them some years previously, to be a capital imitation of what he should judge the infernal regions might resemble.

'Are they so very terrible, then, dear papa?' inquired Miss Grace.

'Terrible enough for weak nerves,' answered the Colonel. The din of the rushing torrent, the Tamina, which is fierce enough as you see it here, but which is there pent into a narrow space, and roars and growls at its confinement, joined to the occasional total darkness, and the steam arising from the hot springs, produce the impression I have just alluded to; and you somehow seem to look for the

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