A ROMANTIC LANDSCA I'K. 169 



Siniond's Swiss shepherds ; and accordingly we both set 

 out one Sunday evening to ask a lodging at a neighbour's 

 farm-house, about five miles from Appenzell Bottom. 

 M. Simond's friend and countryman was an old man of 

 seventy, surrounded by a numerous family, whose hospi- 

 tality was Swiss in the true sense of the word. 



In these wild regions of the central prairies, where the 

 baneful influence of the European population has not yet 

 penetrated, where men's manners are still pure and 

 patriarchal, the religious usages of the Old World are 

 observed with scrupulous fidelity. So, after the evening 

 repast, our aged host took down Luther's Bible, and read 

 a chapter aloud in a clear, strong voice. The women 

 were seated on one side of the room, the men on the 

 other j and Simond and I did not refuse to join in their 

 simple worship. 



On the following morning, soon after dawn, armed 

 with our guns and loaded with our game-bags, we let 

 loose our dogs, and started on our adventure. The path 

 we ascended was full of windings, and imperfectly made. 

 Deep night prevailed in the mountain gorges and their 

 dangerous abysses; all around us bristled sombre and 

 precipitous rocks, illuminated by the rays of a moon half 

 veiled with clouds. Such was the fantastic aspect of 

 these masses of stone, that one might well have mistaken 

 them for an array of giants stationed to watch over the 

 solitude of the mountains. 



As our footsteps startled the silence, crowds of noc- 

 turnal birds sprang up before us, and fluttering above 

 our heads, quickly disappeared in the obscurity. As we 

 moved forward the day appeared to rise in company with 

 us ; the stars vanished, absorbed in the ethereal azure ; 



