quis of Dorset, giving an account of the melancholy death of Lady Jane to her old preceptor. Bullinger had preserved it with these precious memorials of his illustrious and unfortunate pupil.

The fine model of the mountains of Switzerland much engaged my attention; and I looked with a feeling of veneration on the portrait of Zwinglius and his daughter, by Hans Asper. His countenance is rather severe. We were all greatly struck with the bust of Lavater, by Danneker: : a more benevolent countenance I never saw; it invited confidence and affection. As I looked upon it, I wondered how the man who killed him could have met its mild glance, and have raised a hand against him whose life, like the expression of his face, spoke nothing but good to his fellow-men.

The death of Lavater is amongst the inscrutable mysteries of that Providence which, dark to us in this world, will become light hereafter. Here we can only recollect, with profound awe, that "His ways are not as our ways;" and, with the full confidence of his

never-failing wisdom and mercy, submit to what we cannot understand, when we reflect that a Stephen was stoned, and a Lavater was murdered, in the very act of doing good. On the capture of Zurich by the French in 1799, this excellent pastor had been giving some food and wine to a French soldier who was in distress; and, whilst assisting another who was dangerously wounded, the ungrateful wretch to whom he had given the wine, with the heart of a Judas in baseness, shot him near the door of his house. Lavater forgave him, and, after lingering many months in agony, died in the ensuing year. He lies buried in the churchyard of St. Anne, in Zurich. I purposed making a visit to his grave, but I understood the church was at some distance, and the heat was so intense, I found it was impossible to walk through the close streets under such a burning sun; with much regret, therefore, I gave up the intention. Some salutary thoughts will always arise from a visit paid to the last home of frail mortality. Even the common grave is not without its lesson; but to visit that which incloses the earthly remains

of the great and the good (principally great because they were good), is replete with instruction. The end of all things, even of those most laudable in themselves, is brought home to our hearts; and the conviction that whilst dust has paid the debt to nature, and returned to its native earth, the spirit that animated it in life, and directed all its agency for the honour of God and the benefit of man, has soared to that Hades of the blest where it shall rest till the last day of retribution, is most consolatory - that day

"When the loud trumpet of eternal doom

Shall break the mortal bondage of the tomb "—

when the graves shall open and the sea give up her dead, and body and spirit shall be again united for their final and eternal state.

I am ever

Your most affectionate Sister,

ANNA ELIZA BRAY.

LETTER XII.

TO A. J. KEMPE, ESQ., F.S. A.

Ascent of the High Albis. New Road to Zug; its

Beauty and Danger.

Fruit Grounds. Swiss

Cottages, &c.. Sunset. Stone to the Memory of Inscription to his

Zwinglius. His Death.

--

Memory. Arrival at Zug.- Lake of Zug.

Fall of the Roseberg: Dr. Zay's most interesting Account of the Catastrophe.

My dear Brother,

our

I AM now about entering upon what were to us the most delightful scenes of our journey visits to Lucerne, Thun, Mont Blanc, &c. In our route to the first-named place, we visited the town and lake of Zug. The drive from Zurich to Zug was indeed charming. But what words shall express our delight when we ascended the heights of the Albis in our way! The greatest height the road attains is that of 2404 feet: you may fancy, therefore, what must have been the extent of view in such a country,

from such an elevation as this. I might exhaust all terms expressive of admiration, and yet find I had none worthy the combinations of scenery which presented themselves in the journey of this day. I am compelled, therefore, to say little, and can only lament that some of our English artists have not hitherto made better known to the British public the whole route I have now to mention for many successive letters.

The ascent, on the ridge of the High Albis, is very steep and grand. On looking back, the scene, already described, of Zurich, its lake and shores, lies extended before you, like an unfolded map; yet, from this vast elevation, that scene forms but one feature of the view. The successive gradations of hill and mountain, and the course of the lake as far as Rapperschwyl, is truly admirable; yet even this was exceeded by the view from a height up which we toiled after we had quitted the carriage, at the inn on the summit of the Albis, and were strolling about to enjoy the magnificence around us, whilst our dinner was in preparation. My nephew, thinking I could never ascend such a height, under