before it ended. On the left is the modern château de Seilles, and then the village of Selayn. At a sharp bend of the river is the enormous rock of Samson, and on it some fragments of ruin; this is the château de Samson; near these is the Hind's cave, where a vast treasure guarded by a hind is said to be kept. There are various dark holes in the bank which doubtless harbour the Nutons, about whom this district, like all the rest of the country we have visited, abounds in stories. It seems that these little brown-faced pigmies have the most passionate admiration for fair-faced, fresh young maidens, and more than once it has happened that by their gifts and their flattery they have stolen away the hearts of their mortal sweethearts, who have persisted in refusing all the neighbouring swains for the sake of the brownie lover.

There is another legend, very common everywhere, but especially in the valley of the Meuse.

Goats with

golden horns and hoofs guard hidden treasures; and everywhere one meets with stories of some hardy treasure-seeker who, if he could only have kept silence, would have become possessed of these ill-gotten hoards. Not so long ago a man positively affirmed that he raised a chest out of the hole in which it was sunk, and heard the chink of gold within, but, alas, the sound overcame

his prudence. "I have it this time!" he exclaimed, and, behold, the trunk slipped back into the earth, which at once closed over it, while the unlucky seeker rolled down the steep cliff on the side of which he had been digging, and only just escaped falling into the river below.

Namèche, on the opposite bank, has in its village church a most curious collection of ancient monuments, or rather tombstones, one of which has inscribed on the stone, "The rightful hereditary chatelaine of Samson." Galliot, the historian of Namur, says this is the tomb of Sibyl of Lusignan, mother of Baldwin, the last king of Jerusalem.

Very soon we come to Marche-les-Dames, and its grand rocks covered with magnificent ivy. The name of this place has a very pathetic origin. In the time of Count Albert the third of Namur, when their husbands went to the Holy Land, a number of wives retired to this quiet secluded valley and built a chapel there, in which they spent most of their time praying for the safe return of their beloved ones.

But when at last the survivors returned from Palestine, there was deep lamentation in the valley of NotreDame du Vivier, for most of these fair young wives were widowed.

They resolved to build a convent in the valley, and to end their days there; and many young girls left orphans by the Crusade joined their company. This

abbey flourished, and three hundred years after adopted the rule of the Cistercians.

The valley goes on increasing in beauty with the fantastic ever-varying crags on either hand, bordered by green vineyards, and pleasant meadows, and fruitful orchards; the broad winding river is gemmed by green islands; and sometimes, where the crags recede from the river, there are golden patches of corn or of red earth newly turned, waiting for a fresh crop.

Here we are in sight of the two bridges of Namur, one over the Sambre the other over the Meuse, and there is the citadel on the heights.

Namur is picturesque-looking, but, after one has been so long in the Ardennes, it seems to want trees around it; and though it is a pleasant and very clean town, and has a most comfortable Hotel, we remembered that we had a dear friend awaiting us at Dinant, and perhaps for that reason paid scant attention to Namur.

CHAPTER XV.

SPA.

IT was very pleasant to find ourselves once more in charming Dinant, and to be warmly welcomed by our artist friends at the Tête d'Or; and we were more unwilling than ever to leave the dear little town, though we had an attractive journey before us, to end with Trèves and Rheims, and the society of a most congenial fellow-traveller.

However, we said at last a final Good-bye, or rather au revoir," to our friends and to the fair town beside the Meuse, and, a merry party of three, we started for Spa, taking the same line of route by which we had come from Liège.

Soon after leaving Liège we enter the lovely valley of the Vesdre, and pass Chaudefontaine in its nest of fir-trees. It looks very sweet and lovely, but too closed in to be healthy, and we heard that the air was very relaxing.

We had to change carriages at Pepinster, a very uninteresting station.

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