on foot. It takes nearly 5 hours to reach the Chalets on the Bründlis Alp,-the highest human habitation, occupied by shepherds only in the summer months. The traveller may here obtain shelter for the night, but nothing deserving the name of accommodation. There is a very remarkable echo near the Bründlis Alp. Above this vegetation ceases and naked rock succeeds. A cave in the face of the precipice, near this, is called St. Dominick's Höle, from a fancied resemblance in a stone, standing near its mouth, to a monk. The cavern was reached in 1814 by a chamois hunter, Ignacius Matt, at the risk of his life. The Tomlishorn, the highest peak of the mountain, is 5766 feet above the lake, and 7116 feet above the sea level; but the view from it is said to be inferior to that from another peak, the Esel (ass). There is another path from the summit down the opposite side of the mountain, by which Alpnach may be reached in 3 hours. According to a wild tradition of considerable antiquity, this mountain derives its name from Pilate, the wicked governor of Judæa, who, having been banished to Gaul by Tiberius, wandered about among the mountains, stricken by conscience, until he ended his miserable existence by throwing himself into a lake on the top of the Pilatus. The mountain, in consequence, labours under a very bad reputation. From its position as an outlier, or advanced guard of the chain of the Alps, it collects all the clouds which float over the plains from the W. and N.; and it is remarked, that almost all the storms which burst upon the lake of Lucerne gather and brew on its summit. This almost perpetual assembling of clouds was long attributed by the superstitious to the unquiet spirit still hovering round the sunken body, which, when disturbed by any intruder, especially by the casting of stones into the lake, revenged itself by sending storms, and darkness, and hail on the surrounding district. So prevalent was the belief in this superstition, even down to times comparatively recent, that the government of Lucerne forbade the ascent of the mountain, and the naturalist Conrad Gessner, in 1555, was obliged to provide himself with a special order removing the interdict in his case, to enable him to carry on his researches upon the mountain. The lake, the source of all this terror, turns out, from recent investigation, to be beyond the limits of canton Lucerne, and on the opposite or the E. side of the Tomlishorn; so that the Town Council had no jurisdiction over that part of the mountain, which belongs to Alpnach. It is rather a pond than a lake, is dried up the greater part of the year, and reduced to a heap of snow, which, being melted in the height of summer, furnishes water to the herds upon the mountain, which resort to it to slake their thirst. There is no other lake upon the mountain. According to some the name Pilatus is only a corruption of Pileatus (capped), arising from the cap of clouds which rarely quits its barren brow, and which is sometimes seen rising from it like steam from a cauldron. The mountain consists, from its base to its summit, of nummulite limestone and sandstone; the strata incline to the S., and abound in fossil remains, especially near the summit, around the Bründlis Alp and the Castelen Alp. Nummulites, as large as a crownpiece, are found near the top. ROUTE 17. LUCERNE TO SCHWYTZ AND BRUNNEN, INCLUDING THE FALL OF THE ROSSBERG, AND THE ASCENT OF THE RIGHI. = To Schwytz 6 3/4 stunden: 22 Eng. miles. To Arth, at the N. base of the Righi, 4 3/4 stunden 15 1/2 Eng. miles. = There is a good carriage-road all the way to Schwytz, traversed by a diligence 4 times a-week. The shortest way from Lucerne to the top of the Righi is to go by water to Weggis, and there commence the ascent. In this way the summit may be reached in 4 1/2 or 5 hours from Lucerne, and even less by the aid of the steamer. The best point of ascent, however, is Arth, which may be reached as follows, returning by Weggis. The road to Küssnacht runs nearly all the way in sight of the lake of Lucerne, and of the Alps of Engelberg and Berne beyond. On a headland, at the angle of the green bay of Küssnacht, stands the ruined castle of New Habsburg. 2 1/2 Küssnacht Inns: Adler (Aigle-Noir); Rössli (Cheval)-lies at the bottom of this bay, at the foot of the Righi, whose top may be reached from hence by a steep path in 3 1/2 hours (see p. 63), Mules, guides, chars, and boats may be hired here. On the slope of the Righi, above the village, a ruined wall may be seen, which goes by the name of Gessler's Castle, and is believed to be the one to which he was repairing when shot by Tell. This event occurred in the celebrated Hollow Way (Chemin creux- Hohle Gasse), through which the road to Arth passes, about a mile out of Küssnacht. It is a narrow green lane, overhung with trees growing from the high banks on each side. Here Tell, after escaping from Gessler's boat on the lake of Lucerne, lay in wait for his enemy, and shot him as he passed, from behind a tree, with his unerring arrow. It is somewhat remarkable that recent researches into the archives of Küssnacht have clearly proved that the ruin, called Gessler's Castle, never belonged to him. At the end of the lane, by the road-side, stands Tell's Chapel. By a singular anomaly, a place of worship originally dedicated to "The Fourteen Helpers in Need" (Our Saviour, the Virgin, and Apostles), now commemorates a deed of blood, which tradition, and its supposed connexion with the origin of Swiss liberty, appear to have sanctified in the eyes of the people, so that mass is periodically said in it, while it is kept in constant repair; and adorned with rude fresco, representing Gessler's death and other historical events. A little way past the chapel the lake of Zng appears in sight, and the road continues by its margin round the hem of the Righi, through Immensee to 1 3/4 Arth-Inn: Schwartzer Adler (Black Eagle), tolerably good; travellers usually halt here while the horses are getting ready to carry them up the mountain. Arth, a village of 2129 inbabitants, occupies a charming position on the lake of Zug, between the base of the Righi and the Rossberg. There is a Capuchin convent here. The Rossberg, a dangerous neighbour, threatens no danger to Arth, because its strata slope away from the village. The Righi is a source of considerable gain to Arth, from the number of guides and mules furnished by the villagers to travellers to ascend the mountain. The ascent properly begins at Goldau, about 2 miles farther on the road, since few persons are willing to avail themselves of the shorter but very difficult and fatiguing footpath direct from Arth. Travellers, however, usually leave their carriages here. FALL OF THE ROSSBERG. "Mountains have fallen, Leaving a gap in the clouds, and with the shock - Byron. On approaching Goldau the traveller soon perceives traces of the dreadful catastrophe which buried the original and much larger village of that name, and inundated the valley for a considerable distance with a deluge of stones and rubbish. The mountain which caused this calamity still remains scarred from top to bottom: nothing grows upon its barren surface, and ages must elapse before the aspect of ruin can be removed. The Rossberg, or Rufiberg, is a mountain 4958 ft. high; the upper part of it consists of a conglomerate or puddingstone, formed of rounded masses of other rocks cemented together, and called by the Germans Nagelflue, or Nail-head, from the knobs and protuberances which its surface presents. From the nature of the structure of this kind of rock it is very liable to become cracked, and if rain-water or springs penetrate these fissures they will not fail to dissolve the beds of clay which separate the nagelflue from the strata below it, and cause large portions of it to detach themselves from the mass. The strata of the Rossberg are tilted up from the side of the lake of Zug, and slope down towards Goldau like the roof of a house. The slanting direction of the seams which part the strata is well seen on the road from Arth. If, therefore, the clay which fills these seams be washed out by rains, or reduced to the state of a viscous or slimy mud, it is evident that such portions of the rock as have been detached from the rest. by fissures above alluded to, must slip down, like the masses of snow which fall from the roof of a house as soon as the lower side is thawed, or as a vessel when launched slides down the inclined plane purposely greased to hasten its descent. Within the period of human records destructive landslips had repeatedly fallen from the Rossberg, and a great part of the piles of earth, rock, and stones, which deform the face of the valley, derive their origin from such catastrophes of ancient date; but the most destructive of all appears to have been the last. The vacant space along the top of the mountain caused by the descent of a portion of it, calculated to have been a league long, 1000 ft. broad, and 100 ft. thick, and a small fragment at its farther extremity, which remained when the rest broke off, are also very apparent, and assist in telling the story. The long and wide inclined plane forming the side of the mountain, now ploughed up and scarified as it were, was previously covered with fields, woods, and houses. Some of the buildings are still standing within a few yards of the precipice which marks the line of the fracture. The catastrophe is thus described in the narrative published at the time by Dr. Zay, of Arth, an eye-witness: "The summer of 1806 had been very rainy, and on the 1st and 2nd 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, detached fragments of rocks rolled down the mountain; at two o'clock in the afternoon on the 2nd 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 a 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 stronger; the whole surface of the mountain seemed to glide down, but so slowly, as to afford time to the inhabitants to go away. 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 to fill 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 appeared to be torn from its foundation (it was of wood), and spun round and round like a tetotum; I was sometimes on my head, sometimes on my feet, in total darkness, 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 a 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 to 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 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 Stenenberg: then seven o'clock struck in another village, and she began to hope there were still living beings, and endeavoured 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 downwards, |