account of the thick foliage, they could make themselves mutually heard, and every now and then they carried on a short conversation, inquiring one of the other, how he got on?

"I have had two or three tumbles already," said Alfred, "from not being able to see where I am going."

"So have I," replied Ernest, "and just now I ran my head against a tree which stood in my way."

"Never mind!" exclaimed Alfred, "we shall get more used to our situation, and then we shall know how to avoid these things."

"Ay, truly!" answered Ernest; but the words were scarcely audible to Alfred, because a sudden turning of the path now completely divided them.

Alfred had not proceeded far, before he emerged from the forest, and found himself on the margin of a broad and rapid river. How was he to pass it? He could not swim, and he looked in vain for a rude foot-bridge, or the trunk of some tree thrown across. He walked along the bank, to see if there were any part of the river that was narrower, or whether he was near its source or outlet; but as far as his eye could stretch, both up and down, as he stood upon a high mound, which he had ascended for the purpose, he could discern only the same breadth and rapidity of water.

"Here is an end of my journey," said he, disconsolately. must e'en return and wait my brother's coming, at home."

"I

For a moment, pride and shame struggled within him, and he half resolved to try if he could wade through the stream, though he was aware that, should one false step carry him beyond his depth, his life was gone. Timidity at length prevailed, and he turned upon his heel to regain the path by which he had arrived at the river's edge; but to his utter dismay, he found he had followed so many turnings of the stream, that he could not recollect which was the first one.

Necessity now inspired him with resolution. He must either go on, or run the risk of being starved to death. Animated by that counterfeit energy which impels us to grapple with desperate circumstances, and which often stands us in as much stead as a calmer and nobler fortitude, he prepared to surmount the difficulties of his situation. Divesting himself of his clothes, which he carried aloft, he boldly jumped off the green bank; advanced; gained the middle of the stream, and then-his heart misgave him for the water circled round his throat!

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He put out one foot; the bed of the river, though rough and rocky, seemed level; he planted it, and drew the other after. The water swept across his chin. "Good God!" he exclaimed, "I dare not go on! Another such a step, and it will rush in at my mouth." He turned his head to see how far he was from land in that direction. He could distinguish nothing. A dense, heavy vapour hung like a curtain between him and the shore he had quitted; but the bank he was approaching lay green before him, and smiling in the sun's rays.

Again he advanced his foot. It rested upon a perceptible ascent. He stood upon it: the water receded to his chest! Joy sparkled in his eyes-he took another step. Half his body rose above the surface. "I am safe!" said he exultingly, as he now darted along, and soon gained the opposite side.

He rested awhile. The mist still enveloped the bank from which he had leaped, and all beyond. He could see nothing of the road by which he had come. But that which he was to pursue was clear and bright; and when he had dressed himself, he betook him to the remainder of his journey.

The first hour of it lay through a sheltered valley; but as he proceeded, the valley grew narrower and narrower, till at last it ended in a glen, choked up with brambles, and of so lose and sandy a soil, that for every step he took in advance, he fell back two. Still he toiled on, forcing his way through the thick underwood, and every now and then having to make a nimble leap over ugly chasms, which descended, he knew not how far, because of the overhanging foliage which fringed their sides.

By this time he began to repent him of his undertaking, wished he had not attempted it, and wondered how it had fared with his brother, and whether he had encountered the same difficulties.

Certainly," said he, as he sat down to refresh himself with some of the viands he had brought with him, feeling faint and exhausted," Certainly," said he, "could I have foreseen what a journey I was to have, I would never willingly have begun it. But it is past help now. Here I am, and on I must go, for the best of all reasons, that I don't think I could find my way back again, even if I were inclined to repeat the trouble I have had, instead of taking my chance for what better may await me.— Heigho! it is more than noon by three hours, and for aught I know I have a good three hours more of toil before I shall get out of this glen. I wish, too, I could be certain that when I am out of it I shall have a smooth road the rest of the way."

When he had recruited his strength, he again set forward; and his apprehensions of the further difficulties that probably awaited his progress were fully realized. The glen terminated in a bog-the bog led to a large lake of stagnant water which he had to ford; and at the extremity of the lake rose up a rocky hill, with only one winding narrow path (hardly broad enough for a goat to tread), by which to reach its summit. Alfred, however, gathered fresh hope from this hill, soothing himself with the idea that when he was on its top, he should be able to see the boundary of his labours. He was not deceived.

"Paradise!" he exclaimed, as he gazed down from the height, after he had attained it by infinite labour, and with extreme peril. "Paradise!" A landscape of quiet beauty spread before him: a landscape composed of corn-fields, pasture, woodland, shady groves, smiling valleys, gentle streams, and cottages interspersed, which gave the appearance, whatever might be the reality, of peace, and innocence, and contentment. Through this

pastoral scene Alfred moved with a delighted and refreshed spirit, the more feelingly alive to its tranquil influence from the contrast it presented to the doubts, anxieties, fears, and labours of the preceding part of his journey. At length he reached the spot agreed upon for their meeting before he and his brother set out; a rustic seat, beneath the spreading branches of an ancient beech, which stood at the entrance of a wood. The western sun was fast approaching the horizon, but Ernest had not yet arrived.

His had been a far different journey. Almost immediately after parting company with Alfred, he found himself in an open plain, through which flowed a rivulet, transparent as crystal, and bordered with sweet-scented flowers, of the most exquisite beauty. At the further extremity of this plain appeared a verdant arch of lofty trees, which seemed to be the entrance to a

grove of delicious aspect. But, inviting as was its appearance, Ernest was in no hurry to enter it, for the soft green turf on which he trod, the fragrance of the flowers which scattered their perfume along each bank of the stream, and the lulling murmur of the stream itself, as it rippled over the shining pebbles that glanced many a bright hue from below, fascinated and held him in willing captivity. He threw himself down, gazed upon the blue heavens, and sunk into those dreaming thoughts, which calm but intense delight so naturally inspires.

In this listless happiness, he continued to bask, till the heat of the advancing day, rather than any recollection of the journey he had to perform, roused him; and then, with a sauntering step, and as if loth to quit a spot of so much loveliness, he directed his course towards the grove. Its shade was grateful, for the sun shone fiercely; and it was intersected with many winding walks, each of which possessed some peculiar charm. In one, there was a gushing waterfall, now bursting through mossy shrubs, and now heard, not seen, as it splashed with a refreshing sound over concealed banks of honeysuckle and violets; in another, thickly clustered trees sent forth the varied melody of birds, from the full, clear, and strong notes, of the thrush and blackbird, to the merry song of the grey linnet, or the shrill one of the chaffinch; while in a third, there were rows of fruit-trees, gorgeously mingling their many blossoms, and scenting the air with odours.

Ernest roamed about in this enchanting spot, insensible alike to fatigue and hunger, and utterly unmindful of the hour. At length chance rather than intention brought him to the other extremity of the grove, and then he perceived that day was waning apace. So he sat down by the side of a doddered oak, despatched a hasty meal, and before he had recovered from the weariness of too much pleasure, set forth in good earnest to finish what remained of his journey.

He came to the brow of a steep hill, down which there appeared to be no path; and, in descending, he received some severe bruises from the falls which he could not avoid. When

at the bottom, he found he had sprained his foot, and it was with the greatest difficulty he made his way along a rough, uneven, narrow road that lay before him. Meanwhile, the shades of evening were gathering fast around, and he was not so certain of his path as to be sure of going right, should darkness overtake him before he reached the place of meeting with Alfred.Crippled, exhausted, in bodily pain, his mind filled with apprehensions, his spirits drooping, he entered the tangled paths of a wood, just as the last glimmering rays of the declining sun flushed with crimson the highest tops of the trees.

"Heaven knows," said he, "whither this track will lead me; but it is the only one I see, and I must follow it, come what may. I am so weary, so foot-sore, so bewildered with my situation, that I hardly care how it happens with me. We can die but once, and we must die once; the time when is of little moment!"

In this dejected frame of mind, he slowly pursued his way, tearing his clothes and flesh with the sharp thorns that beset him on every side, and getting many a hard knock from coming into unexpected contact with objects, which he was unable to see time enough to avoid them. At length he emerged from the wood, within a few paces of the rustic seat, where Alfred was still sitting, enjoying the scene that lay before him, though the gray twilight had begun to fling it into obscurity.

He was alamed and grieved at the appearance of his brother, pale, lacerated, feeble, and scarcely able to answer his greetings. It was no time, then, for inquiries as to what had caused these disasters; but leaning on his arm, he conducted him to a solitary cottage hard by, where the aged man who dwelt in it applied healing ointments to his wounds, refreshed him with food, and spread a couch of rushes for him to repose upon. When his strength was somewhat recruited, he related the adventures of his day's journey; Alfred did the same; and their venerable companion, who listened attentively to both, thus addressed them :

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My children," said he, your journeys have been emblems of human life. You," he continued, turning a benignant look upon Alfred, "began by fording rivers, ascending, with much labour, steep hills, and penetrating thick forests; but you persevered, triumphed over every obstruction, and in the end reached this fertile plain, luxuriant in herbage, and breathing balmy odours. What is this but the symbol of a youth of difficulties, a manhood of dangers, and an old age of repose You, on the contrary," addressing Ernest, "found yourself, at the very outset, straying amid fruitful valleys, shady groves, and cooling streams; and you surrendered yourself to their soft enjoyments, satisfied with present happiness, and heedless of what might follow. When, however, you were compelled to forsake those pleasant scenes, you found you had still a long, weary, and rugged path to tread, with little time to do it in; and with your energies enfeebled by the hours you had wasted in enjoyments, which you fancied would continue. Was not this a

type of youth and manhood, upon whose early days prosperity waits, but whose evening comes on in darkness, danger, and despair? The career of every man resembles, more or less, the one or the other of these journeys; and we should be sadly perplexed, when we are starting, if the choice of either were presented to us. It is far better that we should all set out with nearly equal hopes; and, as our progress is, so to let our actions be, shaping themselves to the necessities of the hour, while we gather from it the wisdom that may prepare us for that which is to follow."

The old man ceased: the youths treasured up his words; and when the morning sun arose, they returned home, wondering which of them would find his JOURNEY THROUGH LIFE foreshadowed in that of a SINGLE DAY. M.

THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE,

A SWISS TRADITION-SHEWING HOW A SWISS SENESCHAL CAN CIRCUMVENT

THE DEVIL.

The only passage of communication between the Canton of the Grisons and that of Uri, was by a bridge over the river Reuss, which, separating the valley of Carack from that of Goschenen, flows in a bed sixty feet in depth, and banked in by precipitous rocks. Scarcely a year elapsed that this point of communication was not carried away, either by the tempest, by the swelling of the river, or by the falls of avalanches; and until a new bridge was erected, all intercourse between the neighbouring valleys and cantons was suspended.

Such was the case towards the close of the fourteenth century, when the parties interested, on both sides of the river, determined to assemble their ablest architects, and construct, at the general charge, such a bridge as would bid defiance to wind and water. Hopes were entertained that success had crowned their efforts, (for the winter was nearly over without bringing with it any of its usual devastations)—when behold, one morning a messenger carried to the Seneschal of Goschenen, the news of the destruction of the bridge, and that there was no longer any communication with the opposite side.

"None but the Devil himself," cried the Seneschal, build one for us."

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Scarcely were the words out of his mouth, when his servant announced "Mr. Satan," in person.

"Show him in," said the Seneschal.

The servant withdrew, and immediately returned, ushering in a man of from 35 to 36 years of age, dressed in the German fashion of the day; close fitting pantaloons of a red colour;