where I saw the pastors with a long musket instead of a crook, and pistols in their girdles.  Our Swiss shepherd’s pipe was sweet, and his tune agreeable.  I saw a cow strayed; am told that they often break their necks on and over the crags.  Descended to Montbovon; pretty scraggy village, with a wild river and a wooden bridge.  Hobhouse went to fish—­caught one.  Our carriage not come; our horses, mules, &c. knocked up; ourselves fatigued.

    [1] Dent de Jaman.

“The view from the highest points of to-day’s journey comprised on one side the greatest part of Lake Leman; on the other, the valleys and mountain of the Canton of Fribourg, and an immense plain, with the Lakes of Neuchatel and Morat, and all which the borders of the Lake of Geneva inherit; we had both sides of the Jura before us in one point of view, with Alps in plenty.  In passing a ravine, the guide recommended strenuously a quickening of pace, as the stones fall with great rapidity and occasional damage; the advice is excellent, but, like most good advice, impracticable, the road being so rough that neither mules, nor mankind, nor horses, can make any violent progress.  Passed without fractures or menace thereof.

“The music of the cows’ bells (for their wealth, like the patriarchs’, is cattle,) in the pastures, which reach to a height far above any mountains in Britain, and the shepherds shouting to us from crag to crag, and playing on their reeds where the steeps appeared almost inaccessible, with the surrounding scenery, realized all that I have ever heard or imagined of a pastoral existence;—­much more so than Greece or Asia Minor, for there we are a little too much of the sabre and musket order—­and if there is a crook in one hand, you are sure to see a gun in the other;—­but this was pure and unmixed—­solitary, savage, and patriarchal.  As we went, they played the ‘Ranz des Vaches’ and other airs by way of farewell.  I have lately repeopled my mind with nature.

“Sept. 20th.

“Up at six; off at eight.  The whole of this day’s journey at an average of between from 2,700 to 3,000 feet above the level of the sea.  This valley, the longest, narrowest, and considered the finest of the Alps, little traversed by travellers.  Saw the bridge of La Roche.  The bed of the river very low and deep, between immense rocks, and rapid as anger;—­a man and mule said to have tumbled over without damage.  The people looked free, and happy, and rich (which last implies neither of the former;) the cows superb; a bull nearly leapt into the char-a-banc—­’agreeable companion in a post-chaise;’ goats and sheep very thriving.  A mountain with enormous glaciers to the right—­the Klitzgerberg; further on, the Hockthorn—­nice names—­so soft;—­Stockhorn, I believe, very lofty and scraggy, patched with snow only; no glaciers on it, but some good epaulettes of clouds.