Ivrea, portions of whose castle date from the tenth century, and form part of what is now the prison of Ivrea. These nobles, like many of the lords of the Middle Ages, signalised their rule by inflicting vexations and cruelties on their vassals, till the latter were so exasperated that they rose en masse, and with the people of the four neighbouring districts set themselves free.

This is a legend relating to the last Marquis of Ivrea. Exercising like his predecessor his feudal rights, he especially held to the "Droit de Seigneur," and by his tyranny and cruelties had made himself so hateful to his subjects that but one spark was wanted to cause an explosion. The Marquis sent for a young woman who had just been married, and gave a great feast, closing the gates on the arrival of the guests. The bride, suspecting his treachery, and wishing to regain her freedom, so plied him with wine that later on retiring to his apartment he soon fell asleep. She had provided herself with a knife, and speedily stabbed him, and having cut off his head exposed it on the walls of his castle. The people rose at the signal, the soldiers having been half won over previously, made but a faint resistance, and the Castle was won. Four of the seigneurs of the neighbourhood fled in terror, and thus five districts were free. Ever since this incident there is a special ceremony during Carnival-time at Ivrea. Ten boys, two from each district, dressed as angels, walk in procession, each carrying a sword, on the point of which is stuck an orange representing the head of the Marquis. On the anniversary of the deed, the five women who were the last married in the place, used (till within a few years ago) to go each with a small silver pickaxe, and chip off a small bit of stone from the Castle wall. Now the women go through the form of shovelling away a little of the soil in the courtyard, still to show how the hand of a woman set their people free.

The House of Savoy was always able to count on the friendship of one family almost on a level with itself, the De Challands, Vicomtes d'Aosta, who were known to be powerful in the Valley from the tenth century; the first family perhaps among the many nobles who built the Castles that now frown down from their heights on the passer-by, it survived them all, and in its turn became extinct not more than sixty years ago. In the fourteenth century the De Challands' influence was felt all through the Valley. It was then that the Forts Verrex, de Fenis, and d'Aiguebelle were built by its members, while later Ussel, de Cly, and many others owe their existence to this family. Two other

Houses claim to be as old as that of the De Challands-the De Bard and the De St. Ours-who became known later as the Seigneurs de Quart. A De Bard built the Castle above Pont S. Martin in the eleventh century, and was thrown down one of its "oubliettes" by his own son. On the site of the present Fort Bard stood a castle built at the same period by a De Bard.

Hugo de Bard refuses homage to the Count of Savoy. He has to fly, and later his possessions are given to his son, who takes the name of Sarriod d'Introd. The Château de Sarre, built by Jacques de Bard, came into possession of the Seigneurs de Quart in 1373. The family became extinct in the fifteenth century. The Château de Quart was built by Jacques de St. Ours in 1185. The family of St. Ours held most of the land in the neighbourhood of Aosta. In order to retain an influence over the town, a St. Ours fortified the north side of the Porte Prétorienne by raising a tower above it, whilst other families seized some of the towers with which the town was protected.

The D'Arnads, the D'Avises, the De Chatellards, and the De St. Pierres leave their names and their castles to show that they have been. Time lifts his veil for a moment in favour of the family that built the Château de Montemayeur, raised in the twelfth century.

In 1461 Duke Louis of Savoy orders Guy de Fessigny to arrest the Comte de Montemayeur, who, as a chronicler puts it, followed too closely to his motto, Unguibus et rostro. De Fessigny proceeds to the Valley to carry out the behest, but Montemayeur, whose suspicions had been aroused, escapes. His lands, however, are confiscated, and De Fessigny is invested with them. The following year Montemayeur is pardoned by the Duke, and his lands are restored to him. But he cannot forgive the man who was sent against him, and designated as his successor. A few months after obtaining the Duke's pardon, Montemayeur seizes De Fessigny and throws him into a dungeon in his Château d'Aprémont. The Duke (Amadée IX.) demands the release of the prisoner. Montemayeur answers by bringing De Fessigny before a tribunal composed of four of his own servants, by whom he is condemned and executed. Montemayeur then flies into France, but on the Duke Amadée's death, profiting by the regency of Yolande, once more returns, and has his property restored to him.

The House of Savoy seems to have been content not to interfere in the Valley unless its own power was attacked. The nobles might fight with each other as long as they pleased; but when once they

cruelty to their

Thus the lower

Then, as if there

distinguished themselves by any remarkable act of vassals, the Counts or Dukes of Savoy stepped in. classes were always in favour of the House of Savoy. were not sufficient elements of turbulence, both the Orders of the Knights of S. John and the Templars had establishments in the Valley, the remains of which may still be seen at Ussel and La Salle.

During the reign of the Grand Monarque there were repeated incursions of his armies into the Valley; but the Dukes of Savoy, who could count upon the loyalty of their subjects, always drove out the intruders. Then came the French Revolution, the last vestige of a feudal system disappeared, and the ivy took possession of the castles that could not be converted into modern habitations.

CHAPTER III.

THE ascent to La Thuille from our last halting-place, S. Didiez, is made by an excellent carriage road, which later will be carried over the Alps. Numerous workmen were employed upon it at the time of which I write.

Taking advantage of short cuts, we found ourselves at the village of La Thuille in about two hours. Here, following a mule path, we found the vegetation grow more and more scanty, and patches of snow appeared. We were late; and meeting with some mules, we were not sorry to get a lift as far as the "Cantina," the limit of the Hospice Territory, beyond which was a waste of snow that had to be traversed on foot. At the “Cantina," while we were refreshing ourselves with some wonderful compound, we met a servant from the Hospice, who was returning thither, and who offered to conduct us. It was well that he did so, for we had had no regular guide, and the darkness soon set in. We then plunged into the half-melted snow, with which the whole region was covered; the grassy slopes which appear a little later in the year were not for us! As it was, we slipped about incessantly, and my companion, who had the build of a life-guardsman, was twice let into holes which nearly swallowed him up. The clouds, for one moment only, allowed us to see the peak of Mont Blanc. Just before we reached the Hospice, our guide pointed out to us a monolith, which is called Jupiter's Pillar. This and a ring of large stones, not then visible to us, on account of the snow, are ascribed to the Celts, and naturally reminded us of the Druidical remains to be found in Brittany and in our own country. After an hour's toiling, and straining every nerve

to get in before the snow, which had begun to fall, should bewilder us, we arrived at the Hospice,—the first travellers of the season. We were welcomed by an ecclesiastic, who led us at once into a room so heated by an iron stove that we could scarcely breathe. There are no monks now at the Hospice,―only one priest and a number of servants being left there. Our host had come from Aosta, so as to allow the real "Director" to have a holiday for two or three months, after having passed some six years here. A residence of ten years at the Hospice is required before the Director is entitled to a full-pay pension. We were told that the present head of the establishment is but rarely seen beyond the "cantines” on each side of the Hospice. In the summer he gives himself up to his visitors, and in the winter he devotes his time to his books, of which he has well-stored shelves.

The Priest, who received us, is famous as a mountain climber, and being a good hunter, was very often sent for by the late King to hunt the bouquetin with him when he was wont to visit the Val d'Aosta. It seems that latterly his Majesty was not able to climb the rocks, nor be the foremost of his train; but he could not bring himself to give up the sport. Huntsmen were therefore sent some time before to drive the bouquetins where their royal master could shoot them. It is not easy work even to reach a spot where these wildest of wild animals can be induced to approach.

We found our host a very intelligent, straightforward man, and his table was covered with all the newest works, in French and English, relating to mountains in different parts of the world. He had never seen the sea, and he described to us his sensations on being once in a boat on the Lake of Geneva. The man whom no mountain or glacier could daunt felt the greatest terror all the time he was in the boat crossing this, to him, unknown element.

The good Priest would have talked on all night could we have spared the time. The conversation turned upon the valley we had left, and goîtres and cretinism. He had a curious theory on the subject of

cretinism. He had observed that the chief nests of cretins lie at the feet of the old castles, and he was disposed to believe that the inhabitants were descended from the old lords of the châteaux, in an indirect fashion. They had never cared to stir from the place of their birth, living poorly, sharing their cabins with their cattle for warmth's sake, - with no bedding save leaves, which remained unchanged till sodden with wet and dirt. And their vegetating on in all this seemed sufficient

to account for cretinism. As goître is probably due to the kind of water common to these regions, it will be found that a large proportion of cretins have this complaint, they having no stamina to withstand it. Many of the physicians in the valley consider that cretinism is due to the want of iodine in the water of the Dora, and of the streams running into it.

Politics, religion, books, and mountain travel, were all touched upon by our worthy and priestly friend; but we had to think of rest, for on the morrow we must rise by daybreak. It was not pleasant mounting the cold staircase, and passing along the tenantless corridor, at the end of which we found our rooms far away from any living thing, for the people of the establishment lived below. Our windows were double ones, but this did not prevent our hearing all night the howling of the wind outside. It was almost a relief at early dawn to be aroused by the deep barking of the dogs of S. Bernard. There were but three of these noble creatures there which enhance so much the fame of the Hospice. Very large, rather rough in their gambols with the headattendants, careless of making friends with strangers, they present a formidable appearance. One would not willingly put aside the touching stories as myths, of these dogs having borne food and clothing to the lost traveller. But their chief use is in finding out the road when all trace of it has disappeared beneath the snow, and in looking up lost people when the staff of the Hospice roam about in search of casualties. Working men traverse the mountain in all seasons, and the good people are able to tell what weather is brewing, and take precautions accordingly.

But we must be off again. So swallowing a great basin of coffee and beaten eggs, and dropping an offering into the box at the door, (it is usual to give what would be equivalent to the cost of a lodging at an inn,) a good shake of the Priest's hand, and with an "à rivederci," -we are off into France.

This side of the pass is most dangerous on account of the avalanches, and many spots were pointed out to us where travellers had been overtaken. The last accident had occurred in April; and four or five men are lost every spring. Treading down the deep-blue gentian, the crocus and the cowslip which further down cropped up here and there, we came at last upon the villages, with their Church spires and the roofs of houses, bordered by strips of zinc, contrasting singularly with the dark slate. The west wind which had ushered in the morning gave