see how horrified she would be over it; she seems to fear that without her constant surveillance I would naturally go and commit crime without measure. Now if she would ever say to me that she had confidence enough in me to believe I would n't easily go astray, I think nothing in the world would tempt me to disabuse a belief so kind and loving!" On another occasion, when the family machinery had become dreadfully out of order through the indiscretion of this same one, it was suggested that she go to her father and candidly tell him of the whole matter and wherein she was seeking to rectify it, and she answered: "O, I could n't do it; I'm afraid of father"— "Stern duty" is very necessary in some positions in life, but if in the home precinct it were more comprehensible and less rigorous; if the bars and gates over which the parent's authority is dispensed to the children were withdrawn, and love sent to and fro through the open passages, with soft command and the assurance of smiling obedience, that perennial good-will would flow so like a river that "the almond-tree would flourish" in serene quiet and the "grasshopper" cease to be "a burden." Corporeal punishment may be necessary at times, though we almost doubt it; at least the times should be few and far between, when the parent, angry and exasperated, vents his anger upon his child in brutish blows, for this punishment is oftener administered in anger than in love. If unimpassioned argument, if patient, kindly reasoning will not avail with a tenderhearted child, all unacquainted with the wiles and artifices of the world, then the parent of such a one would have cause for wondering and bitter sorrow, and the child would be a very unusual specimen of the genus homo. It seems to us that that sentence which, from year to year, is wreathed among Christmas arches, is chanted by those who celebrate the rising of the star of Bethlehem, should be sounded all over the world continually, so that as the proclamation of "peace on earth and good will to men" is issued from the palaces of Omniscient Love, it may be re-echoed by his creatures in their dealings with each other upon the earth. EVERY thing that a man leans upon but God, will be a dart that will certainly pierce his heart through and through with many sorrows. He who leans only upon Christ, lives the highest, choicest, safest, and sweetest life, and has hope in death of a better existence. SW AMONG THE ALPS. WITZERLAND has been called the playground of Europe, and during “the season" this little republic is overrun by continental and English tourists, attracted by the variety and grandeur of its scenery. Of late years our own countrymen, who are gaining a world-wide celebrity as travelers, are found here in increasing numbers thronging the delightful hotel and pensions. The grand attraction of this whole region is, of course, the mountain ranges called by the general name "Alps," though separately distinguished as the Jura Range, Mt. Blanc chain, Bernese Overland, Tyrolese Alps, etc. word "Alp" signifies a mountain pasture, and far up on the precipitous slopes can be seen the chalets and herds of the hardy mountaineers. We had the pleasure, a year ago, of making a short excursion through this enchanting region. Our approach was from Italy, having first enjoyed the matchless lake scenery which it boasts, and thence traveling northward by diligence over splendid roads, in the direction of the great Simplon Pass. Leaving Pallanza, on the shore of Lake Maggiore, about mid-afternoon, in a drizzly rain, we stopped for the night at the little half-way station of Domo Dossolo. During the night the rain pattered drearily on the roof, and next morning opened, as we had feared, wet and lowering. The "post diligence" is a capital vehicle for mere traveling, sufficiently comfortable, making good speed, and with sober, careful drivers. The inside seats, however, are not well adapted for sight-seeing, and unless one is fortunate enough to secure the coupé, or, what is better, the conductor's seat on top, he will scarcely have a satisfactory glimpse of the sublime scenery. Discouraging as our prospects seemed, we were still thoroughly elated with the thought that through the whole day we should be in the midst of these stupendous mountain forms. With the exception of St. Gotthard none of these passes excel the Simplon in the grandeur of its scenery. The magnificent road was constructed by Bonapart in 1807. It is a masterly specimen of engineering, and, after the Brenner, was the first great route across the Alps. As we crept slowly up the ascent, winding around the sides of these grim mountains, the scenery grew wilder and more majestic. The mists hung heavily above us, obscuring the loftier summits, yet we could look far down in the deep defiles where the torrents dashed among the rocks, and watch the beautiful cascades leaping down the mountain side. The grade was quite heavy, rendering slow driving necessary, so we found far beneath. The little town of Brig looks very attractive with the cultivated lands around it after the bleak scenery of the pass. Reaching the base we proceed down the valley to Sierre, where we very willingly exchange the diligence for the railway which takes us to Martigny, a brisk little town in Summer from the great influx of tourists on their way to the Simplon or the Valley of Chamouny. As it is now June, too early for the tide of travel, we find it very quiet, and the comfortable home-like hotels quite deserted of guests. By the way, the inns of Switzerland and the bordering parts of Savoy are unrivaled. Quiet, admirably served, scrupulously clean, with plentiful fare and moderate prices, they contribute very much to the pleasure of a tour among the Alps. hardy Alpine rose alone finding nourishment the green meadows of the lovely Rhone Valley here. Before reaching the village of Simplon we passed through the Gallery of Gondo, a tunnel six hundred and eighty-three feet in length, bearing the inscription, "Aere Italo, 1800, Nap. Imp." In 1830 the Swiss erected gates at the entrance. At length we reached the culminating point of the pass at an altitude of over six thousand feet. Here is a hospice similar to that of St. Bernard, founded by Napoleon for the reception of travelers. The large, plain building looked rather strange in this desolate region with the massive form of the majestic Monte Leone lifting its peak above the clouds in the rear. Our attention was attracted by several of the good-natured looking, powerful dogs of the establishment, of the same breed with that former hero of St. Bernard, the dog "Barry," whose stuffed skin is preserved in the museum at Berne, and who is said to have preserved the lives of fifteen persons. Now we begin the descent on the northern side. Rapidly our heavy vehicle rolls along the smooth roadway, barely wide enough for two such carriages to pass. We fairly shudder as we look down the awful precipice, and think where a few inches deviation from the track would land us. Far ahead we can trace our winding road, but it seems a mere thread marking the mountain sides. We are now passing a portion of the road which is the most dangerous during the period of avalanches and storms. There are six houses of refuge and a hospice within a distance of less than three miles. We see abundant indications of the effects of avalanches, but are not favored with a sight of the phenomenon itself. They are caused by the accumulation of immense masses of ice or snow on the upper parts of the mountains, whence they slide off with amazing velocity of their own weight as the season advances. It is said that the view from a distance hardly equals the traveler's expectations, though these prodigious masses often consist of several hundred tons of ice, and are capable of sweeping away whole forests and villages if they lie in their course. The currents of air which they create are scarcely less destructive than the avalanche itself. Occasionally the diligence has a narrow escape, though the most dangerous parts of the road are protected by galleries or stone sheds, some of them hundreds of feet long, through which the road passes, and over whose mossy roofs the avalanche shoots harmlessly. To our great satisfaction the clouds gradually break away, and the sun shines out in his strength, revealing the mountains from base to summit, and chasing the shadows along Two routes lead from Martigny to Chamouny at the foot of Mt. Blanc; the one by the TêteNoire pass, the other by the Col de Balone. Neither of them is a carriage road except for a portion of the way, and travelers usually make the entire distance with mules or on foot. We decided on the latter method, and thought it prudent in view of our inexperience to select the less difficult pass-that by the Tête Noire. We sent our baggage by post to Geneva-a rather expensive convenience-and rising early set out in high spirits on our first tramp among the Alps. For several miles we had some smart climbing, as the road ascends quite abruptly after leaving Martigny, but we found the mountain air so bracing as to relieve us of any sensible fatigue. We often turned to enjoy the picturesque and ever-varying views of the Rhone Valley and the mountain scenery about Martigny. Our prospect was soon bounded, however, by the lofty peaks and precipitous forms which inclosed us on all sides. Yet no portion of the route was wanting in interest. We never grew weary watching the tumbling, roaring waters of these mountain streams, or the beautiful spray of the cascades as they dashed down the rocks. Occasionally our path would lead under the thick foliage of a forest, then emerge amid verdant meadows, passing among the rude but substantial cabins of an Alpine village, with its church protected from avalanches by walls. Snow-capped summits were often in sight, presenting a strange contrast to the rich green of the sheltered valleys. We had thought of passing the night at the cosy little Hotel de la Cascade, half-way between Martigny and Chamouny, but we felt so braced by the mountain air as to decide on making the whole distance of twenty miles before a permanent halt. At length we came but still cloudy. Taking our batons we ascended the near eminence, called the Montanvert, which affords a noble view of the wonderful Mer de Glace. This we crossed easily with the assistance of a guide, passing around the deepest and broadest crevices, and descending by a path along the side of the glacier, reached the valley again at its foot. We then ascended the Flégére on the opposite side of the valley. A good path leads to the summit, the ascent requiring about three hours. From this point a magnificent view is obtained of the Mt. Blanc range. From no other point do the great glaciers present a finer and more impressive appearance. The whole landscape possessed a novelty and grandeur to us marvelously exciting and attractive. We had not yet obtained a clear, undoubted view of the Monarch himself, and it was with reluctance we prepared to leave this lovely vale early next morning for Geneva. To our surprise the morning broke gloriously clear and bright-not a cloud in the sky, and every snow-crowned summit clearly revealed. As our eye rested on the dome of Mt. Blanc we found it difficult to realize its vast distance. It scarcely looked more than an hour's walk from where we stood, yet between us and that summit were many hours of the hardest sort of climbing over drifts and glaciers, with considerable exposure to danger. It is said the view from the summit is not commensurate with the fatigue necessary to reach it, as, in consequence of the great distance, all objects appear indistinct; and, if the weather prove unfavorable, as is quite likely, the adventurer has little reward for his pains. There are other Alpine peaks almost as high as Mt. Blanc. The latter reaches an elevation of 15,781 feet above the level of the sea, while Monte Rosa is 15,585 feet, and the Jungfrau 13,729 feet in height. mirror from their bosom these stupendous mountain forms. From the shores of some, like Lake Leman, the loftier ranges are somewhat distant; but with others, as the Lake of Lucerne, the precipitous slopes of these mighty hills are their natural barriers. Steamers ply regularly on all the Swiss lakes, affording from their decks some of the most charming and memorable views of Alpine scenery. LAUGHING AND LAUGHTER. WE E trust the subject is not a forbidden one; on the contrary, we hope to find it both wholesome and profitable. It surely ought not to be treated dryly, and yet we hardly hope for another result. The fact is, we became convinced that we, for our own part, did not laugh enough, that our life-work was taken so seriously and absorbingly to heart as too largely to shut off, or at least repress, this agreeable outgoing of the inner life, and that, consequently, our health was suffering. We went to thinking, therefore, whether, perhaps, we might not remedy the matter; whether we might not in some way introduce more of the hilarious and visible into our disposition and habits. We had noticed that rolicking, laughing customers are usually plump and healthy; we ourselves were lean and feeble-blooded. Couldn't we remedy the matter by laughing? Could n't we also "laugh and grow fat?" But the question was hardly proposed before we began to fear we were putting the cart before the horsetaking an effect for a cause. Does not the plumpness and round oiliness of laughing men come from some other sources, and is not laughter merely an outward overflowing of an inward thing which is already there? And yet we did not despair. We reflected that, for example, love, though not directly under control of the will, is yet indirectly in our power. Ethical writers tell us that we can and must love whatever we ought to love-we must shift ourselves about and view the matter from another standpoint, until, finally, the light falling upon the One of the most attractive and frequented districts of Switzerland is that traversed by the mighty range called the Bernese Alps. From the roof of the Federal capital at Berne there is a fine, though distant, view of that vast collection of snowy peaks, brilliantly lit up by the sun on a clear day. Perhaps the most favor-object from the right angle, it will appear to us able point for a nearer view is the summit of the Faulhorn, between the lake of Brienz and the valley of Grindelwald. From here a magnificent prospect is obtained of the whole range of the Bernese Overland. Grandly conspicuous among these giants is the Wetterhorn, lifting its snowy summit 11,402 feet toward the sky. This whole region is greatly heightened in beauty and interest by those lovely sheets of clear water, which vary the landscape, and lovely and worthy, and the heart will leap out where duty calls. Now, is not the case of laughter analogous? Though it be but an effect of a certain physical and mental state, can not, however, this state be brought about by voluntary effort? Can we not, and, if so, ought we not, so to temper our inner and outer life that a good degree of occasional hearty laughing will be the inevitable result? The more we thought of the subject the more |