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ancient castle was appropriated to the use of his school.' Of the value of Pestalozzi's methods, Mr Simond appears to have conceived no very exalted opinion. He examined several of the pupils as to the nature of their intercourse with their instructers, on the peculiar intimacy of which Pestalozzi rests the excellence of his system. The result of his inquiries was that the mode of teaching is in fact very liule different from what it is in other schools. The masters teach arithmetic, geography, geometry, &c. from elementary books; that is, dictate to the pupil his mode of proceeding : and as to love and confidence, Mr Pestalozzi is himself now too old to have much conversation with his pupils, and the masters under him see them at the hours of instruction, and love them about as much as in other schools masters love their scholars, and no more. Aux taloches près, this was the expression one of the pupils used ; excepting a box on the ear occasionally, there is nothing very paternal in their intercourse with their pupils; and once the master for religious instruction in an angry moment, as I am told, burst one of the desks, with a blow of his fist. Ce'st beau cela pour un maître de religion, observed my informant; an intelTigent boy, who, however, had no dislike to the school, and no wish to leave it.'-—' In 1814, when the allies were about establishing a military hospital at Yverdun, this venerable man having been deputed to Alexander, obtained for his town the exemption from this burthen, and was on the occasion decorated with a Russian order.

Under the head of Bâle, Mr Simond gives an interesting hint of a famous artist and his work. “A multitude of eminent men were born or received their education in this town.* It is enough to name Erasmus, Euler, Bernouilli; and in the arts, Holbein, who, notwithstanding his defects, rose so much above the general standard of his time. A copy of the Eloge de la Folie, with marginal drawings by him, is, we understand, preserved in the public library, but it is very doubtful, whether he had any thing to do, with the celebrated Danse des Morts, bearing his name. This celebrated composition was originally painted on the walls of a church yard, which it was found necessary to pull down seventeen years ago. The picture having suffered much from long exposure, and being almost obliterated, was retouched, and perhaps wholly painted anew four different times in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, and yet always retained the name of Holbein. This tradition is the only proof of his having painted it the first time.'-The library of Bâle,' says Mr Simond, 'possesses twelve thousand medals, mostly found in the ruins of a Roman city in the neighborhood. It is surely a matter of surprise,' continues our author,' that so many medals and species of coin, should have been found among the ruins of antiquity, implying, as they do, a much greater number still hidden. We moderns do not scatter about our money and other valuables in this manner; and when, some thousand years hence, London and Paris come to be dug out of corn fields on the banks of the Thames and the Seine, the pieces of gold, and silver, and brass picked up among the ruins, will still be Greek and Roman, with very few French and English. The reason must be,' that now a days misers do not bury their treasures, which is assuredly all in favor of the modern state of society and security of property. Mr Simond might also have said, that since the establishment of banks and the invention of bills of exchange, burying gold and silver is one of the least eligible ways of concealing property in troublous times.

* We cannot help making a remark here on the use of this word. Since the municipal incorporation of Boston, many of our fellow citizens seem to think they sin against the charter by even speaking of it under the name of town : which, however, is in fact the true English appellation of a city, and applied to the oldest cities in Europe.

The assembly of travellers of all nations at the falls of Schaffhausen, gives Mr Simond an opportunity of making a comparison between them. No part of his work is more attractive than those general observations, which our author makes in the cosmopolitan spirit derived from being a native of one country, a citizen of another, and a traveller in many others. The jealous English reserve is extremely well described in the passage which follows. There were other adınirers here besides ourselves, some English and more Germans, who furnished us with an opportunity of comparing the difference of national manners. The former divided into groups, carefully avoiding any communication with each other, never exchanged a word, and scarcely a look, with any but the legitimate interlocutors of their own set; women adhering more particularly to the rule, from native reserve and timidity, full as much as from pride or extreme good breeding. The German ladies, on the contrary, contrived to lier conversation in indifferent French. With genuine simplicity, wholly unconscious of forwardness, although it might undoubtedly have been so qualified ruins of the castle at Hapsburg) je vois que nous toujours été grands seigneurs." We do not know mond should make the emperor of Austria speak F why, on the same leaf, he should call the language dialect of German, or say that the German literatu cultivated or known to the Bernese than the Fren statement appears to us wholly gratuitous. Wel men in this, as in other parts of Switzerland, may thing more likely than the Germans in general to u French, but German is their language, their childre to German universities, and the prejudices against es French, particularly since the overthrow of Bonar bitter. Mr Simond moreover is inaccurate in call tenbach the contemporary of Haller, and saying t ranked in Germany among the greatest humanists eighteenth century. Wyttenbach was educated, it is Germany, but acquired all his reputation in Holland he died within two years, can scarcely be spoken of a temporary of Haller, who died in 1777.


Under the head of Geneva, Mr Simond describe curious feature of their society, which we shall give so at length, in his own words.

' A stranger,' says he, 'wl admitted to some sort of familiar intercourse at Genev takes notice of certain endearing epithets, which wome ages are in the habit of bestowing on each other, such cæur, mon choux, ma mignone, mon ange. The objects interchange of endearment, I was told, are women of Sunday society. This explanation only increasing my osity, I made further inquiries, of which the following w result. Both boys and girls are from their birth associa other children of the same age and sex.

Treaties of ma for their children are concluded finally between paren fore the children are born, and negotiations have been k to take place in regard to those that never were born. boys, under the designation of the same volée, and the of the same Sunday society, meet at some of the pai houses every Sunday; but neither fathers nor mother even brothers or sisters, unless of the same society, are pre A goûter, or sort of light supper, is given to them, comp of fruit, pastry, &c. of which, being left to their own con they partake at discretion, and do and say what they ple A sort of natural subordination soon establishes itself am

economical and political observations and anecdotes from the recent military history of the times, into the heart of Switzerland. His description of the catastrophe of Goldau is remarkably good. This calamitous event is well known to our readers, from the fine description of it by Mr Buckminster, contained in a letter written from the spot but three weeks after the occurrence of the fatal disaster, and since published in the volume of his sermons. • The summer of 1806,' says Mr Simond, had been very rainy, and on the first and second of September it rained incessantly. New crevices were observed in the flank of the mountain, a sort of cracking noise was heard internally, stones started out of the ground, and detached fragments of rock rolled down the mountain. At two o'clock in the afternoon of the second of September, a large rock became loose, and in falling raised a cloud of black dust. Toward the lower part of the mountain, the ground seemed pressed down from above, and when a stick or spade was driven in, it moved of itself. A man, who had been digging in his garden, ran away from fright at these extraordinary appearances. Soon a fissure larger than all the others was observed; insensibly it increased ; springs of water ceased all at once to flow; the pine trees of the forest absolutely reeled ; birds flew away screaming: A few minutes before five o'clock, the symptoms of some mighty catastrophe became still strong

The whole surface of the inountain seemed to glide down, but so slowly as to afford time to the inhabitants to escape. An old man, who had often predicted some such disaster, was quietly smoking his pipe when told by a young man running by, that the mountain was in the act of falling. He rose and looked out, but came into his house again, saying he had time for another pipe. The young man continuing to fly, was thrown down several times, and escaped with difficulty. Looking back, he saw the house carried off all at once. Another inhabitant being alarmed took two of his children and ran away with them, calling to his wife to follow with the third. But she went in for another, who still remained — Marianne, aged five. Just then Francisca Ulrich, their servant, was crossing the room with this Marianne, whom she held by the hand, and saw her mistress. “At that instant," as Francisca afterwards said, “ the house (which was of wood) appeared to be torn from its foundation, and spun round and round like a tetotum. I was sometimes on my head and sometimes on my feet, and violently separated from the child.” When the motion stopped, she found herself jammed in on all sides, with her head downwards, much bruised and in extreme pain. She supposed she was buried alive, at great depth. With much difficulty, she disengaged her right hand and wiped the blood from her eyes. Presently she heard the faint moans of Marianne, and called to her by her name. The child answered that she was on her back among stones and bushes, which held her fast, but that her hands were free, and that she saw the light and even something green. She asked whether people would not soon come and take them out. Francisca answered that it was the day of judgment, and that no one was left to help them, but that they would be released by death, and would be happy in heaven. They prayed together. At last Francisca's ear was struck by the sound of a bell, which she knew to be that of Steinenberg. Then seven o'clock struck in another village, and she began to hope there were still living beings, and endeavored to comfort the child. The poor little girl was at first clamorous for her supper ; but her cries soon became fainter, and at last quite died away. Francisca, still with her head downward, and surrounded with damp earth, experienced a sense of cold in her feet almost insupportable. After prodigious efforts she succeeded in disengaging her legs, and thinks this saved her life. Many hours had passed in this situation, when she again heard the voice of Marianne, who had been asleep, and now renewed her lamentations. In the mean time, the unfortunate father, who with much difficulty had saved himself and two children, wandered about till day light, when he came among the ruins, to look for the rest of his family. He soon discovered his wife by a foot, which appeared above ground; she was dead, with a child in her arms.


His cries, and the noise he made in digging, were heard by Marianne, who called out. She was extricated with a broken thigh, and saying that Francisca was not far off, a further search led to her release also, but in such a state that her life was despaired of. She was blind for some days, and remained subject to convulsive fits of terror. It appeared that the house, (or themselves at least,) had been carried down about one thousand five hundred feet from where it stood before.' Several other interesting anecdotes are related by Mr Simond of this catastrophe, but our limits will not permit us to quote them.

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