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standing at her balcony, sighing deep love, and gazing on the crystal stream, sparkling like silver beneath the beams of the moon, which during the first week

of our sojourn lighted up the beautiful valley.

CLAT

CHAPTER V.

LATTER, clatter! patter, patter! it must be rain, and yet how brightly the sun shines! I jumped from my bed, and, rushing to the window, threw it wide open. Not a cloud obscured the sky; the floodgates of heaven were closed fast for this day; but the patter went on. It was caused by the sabots of children, boys and girls, trotting up and down the street, with sheets and towels for the use of the patients, who were about undergoing sudatory and other ingenious watery processes. The man or woman who requires a long sleep will do well to court it during the early night hours at Mont Dore; for, from the earliest dawn, or even before it, slumber becomes difficult of peaceful accomplishment. So tired was I, that the pattering of sabots, and even louder noises, had failed to awaken me on the first morning of my abiding in Madame Bertrand's comfortable house; but on this, the second, I was constrained to leave the pleasant land of dreams long ere my spirit wished to do so. Then succeeded more violent noises; heavy steps on the stairs,-heavier over my head,—the creaking and straining of wood. Then a fall, as it were of a heavy body,—another edition of creaks and groans, succeeded again by steps on the

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stairs, louder than before. I look out of the window, and presently see emerging from the door a roughlyconstructed sedan chair, and seizing my opera glasses -which I always place convenient to the window, for neighbourly and friendly purposes-I see within the chair a figure enveloped in mantles, but of what sex I cannot say. Then another wooden box appears,—a third,—and soon the square is full of chairs, each borne off between two men, who are trotting with the patients to the baths. And it is not five o'clock. I thought how applicable to what I had heard and seen are the lines in The New Bath Guide,' a series of poetical epistles descriptive of Bath at the commencement of this century:

This morning, dear Mother, as soon as 'twas light,
I was wak'd by a noise that astonish'd me quite,
For in Tabitha's room I heard such a clatter,

I could not conceive what the deuce was the matter;
And, would you believe it, I went up and found her
In a blanket, with two lusty fellows around her,
Who both seem'd a going to carry her off in
A little black box, just the size of a coffin.

'Pray tell me,' says I, 'what ye're doing of there?'
'Why, master, 'tis hard to be bilk'd of our fare,
And so we were thrusting her into a chair;

We don't see no reason for using us so,

For she bade us come hither, and now she won't go:

We've earned all our fare, for we both came and knock'd her Up, as soon as 'twas light, by advice of the doctor;

And this is a job that we often go a'ter

For ladies that choose to go into the water.'

And so at Mont Dore: sturdy Auvergnats, who figure as guides during the day, are to be seen during the early morning hours carrying off ladies, who

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happily make no noisy opposition, to the baths. It is always amusing at a watering place, where inward as well as outward application of the healing fluid is practised, to study the trusting patients, who, having unbounded faith in the efficacy of the waters, convert their stomachs into cisterns, and imbibe tumbler after tumbler full, with a rapidity and perseverance at once amazing and alarming. The priestess of the waters here is no Naiad, if she be descended from Egeria, nor is her fountain enamelled by many-hued mosses. She has, however, numerous votaries: from early dawn, she is surrounded by applicants, each holding forth a glass, eager to have it filled from the everflowing spring. Origen tells us that his contemporaries believed warm springs to be fed by the hot tears of fallen angels; and who knows but that some of these lovely beings may even now be doing penance in the volcanic depths of Mont Dore. Bearing the brimming goblet, the patients walk to and fro under the portico, sipping and drinking until the dose is taken. Orders have been issued, I believe, that half an hour should elapse between each glass; but the invalids, real or soi-disant, appear to follow the practice of St. Laurent, the patron saint of the springs of Mont Dore, who, when half roasted, cried out to his torturers to turn him on the other side. A board over the portico carries the legend in the Auvergnat patois, running thus:

Qui le bon San Laurent fugue mita grillia
Didii bei le Bourré mouchu me faut vira,

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which may be rendered:

Quant le bon Saint Laurent fut a moitie grillé,

Il dit au Bourreau-Monsieur, il faut me tourner! and so may zealous water drinkers be seen taking large mouthfuls of the steaming spring, and turning their heads first to one side then to the other, in order to scald all portions of their œsophagus equally. The power of faith is great. There is a French gentleman here who is drinking, douching, vaporizing, and bathing at a furious rate. In the course of a few days I became acquainted with him. They come and fetch me,' he said, 'at four in the morning; I am carried in a chair, swathed in flannel, to the baths, where I undergo the various aquatic operations until eight; then I am swathed in flannel again, carried back to my hotel, put to bed, where I remain until breakfast time.' • And this by the advice of your physician?' I inquired. Not at all,' he replied; I felt unwelloppressed-jaded-and so I consulted a somnambule in Paris: Go, said she, to Mont Dore, and take twentyfour baths, douches, &c. &c., and you will be restored to perfect health. So here I am, and though the medecin* declares that my system will not bear douching, I am determined to persevere.' And, indeed, his frame was so delicately conjointed, that I should have doubted its capability of bearing up

* A government physician resides at all the French watering-places, and no person can use the waters without consulting him, though his attendance during the course may be dispensed with.