pious works, the education of the people, etc. The revenues of the convent were valued at 216,365 Swiss florins. The members of the fraternity are to be pensioned for their lives. The convent, a vast edifice, but not otherwise remarkable, was built 1665, in place of one destroyed by fire. It encloses a church in the centre, like all the convents of the Benedictine order. Near the convent stands the ruined castle of Wartenstein.

After leaving behind the convent and hamlet, the path lies over the pastures of the upland valley, here carpeted with bright green, while its sides are clothed in woods, out of which rise bare limestone peaks and cliffs. The river Tamina flows, concealed from view, at the bottom of the deep gash, or gorge, in the centre, which is so narrow that in places, the two sides appear united. The path, gradually descending, approaches this gorge near a small wooden shed projecting over it, and containing a sort of crane or pulley, intended to lower down provisions and other things to the baths. This is, perhaps, the best point for viewing this singular spot. On looking over the verge of the precipice you perceive, at the bottom of the ravine, at the vast depth of 600 ft. below, the roofs of two large buildings, like cotton factories, in size and structure. So completely vertical are the walls of rock, that the rope from the pulley descends nearly straight into the roof of the bath-house.

The only mode of reaching the baths from this side is by a staircase (stiege) formed partly of trunks of trees, attached to the face of the cliff, and partly of steps cut in the rock, and situated about 100 yards higher up than the crane. AL the bottom of the ladder the Tamina is crossed by a natural bridge of rock, beneath which the river forces its way out of sight and hearing. Ten minutes' walk below this point lie

The Baths; two large piles of building connected together by a chapel. They are built on a narrow ledge of rock a few feet above the roaring Tamina, and so deeply surken between the rocks that they may be said to be half buried; so that in the height of summer, the sun appears above them only from 10 to 4. They are large gloomy buildings, damp and not over clean. There are rooms enough to receive between 200 and 300 persons, and, in the season, they are almost all occupied; but they are ill-furnished and not comfortable. The houses are traversed by vaulted corridors, 400 ft. long. At one end is the pump-room, and on the ground-floor the baths, 12 or 14 shallow wooden pans, designed for the reception of several persons at once, in chambers so filled with vapour that the patient is half blinded on entering them. There are also private baths; both are supplied with a current of hot water, constantly running

through them. Since the dissolution of the convent it is probable that the baths may fall under new and better mauagement.

As the accomodation for strangers is homely, so is the fare simple. There is a daily table d'hôte, at 12, for 2nd class guests, and at 1 for 1st class; at which 200 persons sometimes assemble the price, including a bottle of wine, is 1 fl. 6 kr. The physician exercises an equally powerful sway over the dinner with the cook, since his fiat banishes all unwholesome viands and limits the number of dishes.

The hot springs of Pfeffers were not known to the Romans. There is a story that they were discovered by a hunter who, having ventured into the abyss of the Tamina, in the pursuit of game, remarked the column of vapour arising from them. For many years nothing was done to facilitate access to them. and patients desirous of profiting by their healing virtues were let down to the source from the cliffs above, by ropes, and, in order to reap as much benefit as possible, were accustomed to pass a week together, both day and night, in them, not only eating and drinking but sleeping, under hot water, instead of under blankets. The sources of the virtue of the water is not very evident, as a pint contains scarcely 3 grains of saline particles; it has a temperature of about 98° Fahrenheit.

The situation of the baths is both gloomy and monotonous, hemmed in between dripping walls of rock, and shaded by dank foliage, with only a narrow strip of sky overhead, and without even space or facilities for locomotion and exercise, unless the patient will scale the sides of the valley above him. To one fresh arrived from the upper world, its meadows and sunshine, a visit to Pfeffers has all the effect of being at the bottom of a well or a mine. The atmosphere is kept at one regular temperature of chilliness by the perpetual draft brought down by the torrent, and the solitary and imprisoned ray of sunshine which about noon, and for an hour or two afterwards, finds its way into these recesses, is insufficient to impart warmth or cheerfulness. A small terrace, 6 or 8 feet wide, close to the baths, is the only level space near them, if the sojourner wishes to walk he has no choice, but must begin to ascend. It is to be presumed, that few English travellers would be disposed to make any stay here. A passing visit of a few hours, or at most, a single night spent here, will satisfy the curiosity of most persons. No one, however, should depart without visiting the

Source of the hot spring.

Most of the guide-books describe this as a service of danger: the writer of this cannot help thinking that its terrors have been exaggerated. The spring is constantly visited even by ladies. At the same time, persons of weak nerves and

subject to giddiness in the head, should on no account attempt it. If the stranger have any fears, they will be considerably allayed by the sight of the guide who shows the way, and whose qualifications for this task of danger appear to consist in his having a wooden leg! A few yards above the spot where the bath-house stands, the sides of the ravine of the Tamina contract in an extraordinary manner, so as to approach within a few feet of each other; a little farther they even close over and cover up the river, which is seen issuing out of a cavernous chasm. A bridge of planks across the Tamina, leads to the entrance, which is closed by a door. The bridge is prolonged into the gorge, in the shape of a scaffolding or shelf, suspended by iron stanchions to the rocks, and partly laid in a niche cut out of the side. It is never more than 3, but generally is only 1 plank, wide; and is carried all along the chasm as far as the hot spring, affording the only means of approach to it, as the sides of the rent are quite vertical, and there is not an inch of room between them and the torrent, for the sole of a foot to rest. A few yards from the entrance the passage is darkened by the overhanging rock. The sudden chill of an atmosphere never visited by the sun's rays, the fearful rushing and roaring of the torrent, 30 or 40 feet below, the threatening position of the rocks above, and the trembling and quivering of the narrow planks on which you tread, protected by no railing, or balustrade, are enough to cause a slight shudder, even to one possessed of strong nerves. parts, it is almost dark, where the sides of the ravine overlap one another, and actually meet over-head, so as to form a natural arch. The rocks in many places show evident marks of having been ground away, and scooped out by the rushing river, and by the stones brought down with it. For several hundred yards the river pursues an almost subterranean course, the roof of the chasm being the floor, as it were, of the valley. In some places the roots of the trees are seen dangling through the crevice above your head, and at one particular spot you find yourself under the arch of the natural bridge leading to the staircase mentioned before (p. 240). Had Virgil or Dante been aware of this spot, they would certainly have conducted their heroes through it to the jaws of the infernal regions.

In

The shelf of planks extends nearly a quarter of a mile from the baths. At its extremity, at the bottom of a cavern in the rocks, rises the hot spring; its temperature being about 100° Fahrenheits; it is received into a reservoir nearly 15 feet deep, from which it is conducted in pipes to the baths. The first baths were miserable hovels, built over the spring, and suspended, like swallows' nests, to the face of the rock: the only entrance to them was by the roof,

and the sick were let down into them by ropes and pulleys. The springs generally cease to flow in winter, but burst forth again in spring; they are most copious when the snow has fallen in abundance, and continue till autumn, after which their fountains are again sealed. The water has little taste or smell; it bears some resemblance, in its mineral contents, to that of Eins; and is used both for bathing and drinking.

Mr. Brockedon observes of the walk up to the springs, "It is one of the very few spots that I have seen where no disappointment can arise from previous description."

Those who have arrived at the baths by way of Valens should not quit the spot (if they intend returning by the same road) without ascending the staircase and looking down upon the baths from the shed which contains the crane and pulley (p. 240).

The Kalanda, or Galandaberg (the mountain on the rt. bank of the Tamina, above the baths, which separates the valley from that of the Rhine), is sometimes ascended on account of the view from its top-a 5-hours' walk.

There is a path from Pfeffers direct to Reichenau up the valley of the Tamina, crossing at its head the pass La Foppa am Kunkels, a walk of about 24 miles. Another foot-path leads up the Kalfauer-Thal to Glarus. (Route 76).

The pedestrian traveller, going from the baths to Coire, need not return to Ragatz, but may proceed by the Convent of Pfeffers, whence a path strikes down directly to the bridge over the Rhine, called untere Zoll Brücke, a walk of about 2 hours.

A char-à-banc, with 1 horse, may be hired from Ragatz to Coire for 10 zwanzigers.

The high road from Ragatz runs along the 1. bank of the Rhine as far as the untere Zolibrücke (Lower Tolibridge), the only bridge on the Rhine between the Lake of Constance and Reichenau. It was entirely swept away by the tremendous flood in the autumn of 1834, which did immense injury to the valley. In crossing this bridge, the traveller passes out of Canton St. Gall into the Grisons. The valley of the Rhine has a grand appearance from this point. The peak of the Falknisberg is a conspicuous and striking object in the view to the N.E. The Rhine alone is unpicturesque, from the width of its bed and the large space of unsightly sand and gravel left bare in summer. Its bed is constantly rising, so as to threaten more fearful inundations; and a plan has been proposed of cutting a new channel for its unruly stream, from this point as far as the Lake of Constance. A short way above the bridge, the Landquart, an impetuous torrent, descending from

the valley of Prettigau, enters the Rhine. The road up it is described in Route 81.

Beyond this, the Convent of Pfeffers is visible from the road; the snowy heights of the Galanda rise into sight on the opposite bank of the Rhine; and the ruins of feudal castles, perched upon rocky knolls, overlooking the valley, give a highly picturesque character to the scene. One of the most conspicuous is Haldenstein, nearly opposite Coire.

1 1/4 Coire, Germ. Chur-(Inns: Weisses Kreutz (White Cross), good and cheap, the best; Post, or Freyeck, tolerable; Capricorn, outside the town, very civil people, and a moderate and good house). The wine of the Valteline is generally consumed in the Grisons, and may be had tolerably good here.

The Capital of the Grisons, the Curia Rhætorum of the Romans, is an ancient walled town, of 4786 inhab., about a mile from the Rhine. Its prosperity arises almost entirely from the high roads upon which it stands, which form the channel of communication from Italy into Switzerland and Western Germany, and unite the great commercial towns of Milan and Genoa, south of the Alps, with Zurich and St. Gall on the north. Coire is the staple place of the goods transported over the two great Alpine carriage roads of the Splügen and Bernardin. It is the place of meeting of the Council of the Grisons; a member of which claims the title of " Your Wisdom" ("Euer Weisheit").

The town has narrow streets, and stands on uneven ground; much curious domestic architecture will be found in it. The Bishop's Palace, and the quarter around it, inhabited by Catholics, occupy the summit of an eminence, and are separated from the rest by walls and battlements, closed by two fortified gates. Here is situated the Church of St. Lucius, or the Dom-the oldest parts of which, in the circular or Romanesque style, date from the eighth century. The detached portal, its sculptures, and the monsters which support its pillars and form the capitals, are very curious-" they are the prototypes of those existing in the Lombard churches." Within, there are one or two singular old paintings-one attributed to A. Dürer (?). In the sacristy are preserved the bones of St. Lucius, a British king, according to the English Martyrologie,' and the founder of St. Peter's Ch., Cornhill," P., and one or two specimens of church plate. The crypt is supported by a single pillar, the base being a

monster.

The Episcopal Palace, near the church, is an antique building; the staircase and halls are singularly decorated with stucco-work; and the chapel, within a tower. is said to be one of the earliest specimens of Christian architecture.