The Sun.
London, England, 1832-05-28 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

A THREE MONTHS' TOUR IN SIVIT-
ZERLAND AND FRANCE.
ONE VOL. LONDON, 1832.

This is another of the innumerable volumes of
travels which for the last ten years and upward,
have been almost monthly issuing from tin
press on the subject of Switzerland, its peasants.
and its scenery. If ever there was a country,
every romantic spot of which is as familiar to us,
(though we have never visited it,) as the high
road from London to Hampstead, it is the
country of Tell and Hoffer. In some shape or
other, either in prose or verse, in quarto,
duodecimo, or octavo, scarcely a week has
elapsed for years past, but our attention
has been recalled to it. Little, therefore,
that the writer of the present volume of
travels mentions, is new to us, or will be
to the majority of our readers ; still his in-
telligence is conveyed in an agreeable manner,
without parade, without ambition, and without
that red-hot desire to show of in which most
tourists, whether male or female, are so much
in the habit of indulging. Mr. Liddiard is a
gentleman of taste, of observation, of feeling ;
he does not traverse Switzerland with his eyes
shut or his ears closed, but examines with a
keen eye, and desclibes with the pencil of a poet
and a painter. We subjoin a specimen of his
descriptive power :

" When I left Righi Staffel, after breakfast, which
might have been, perhaps, between ten and eleven o'clock,
the valleys and lakes on every side were enveloped in a sea
of mist, to which I can only compare it, being sul,dividecl,
as it were, and shaped, apparently, into so many waves, as
white and as fleecy in appearance as wool, to which by
many they have been compared.
" One of the guides, an intelligent German, Solomon
Hoffman, who was attending a young German banker of
Vienna, a M. De S----, who had joined our party,
directed my attention to a most singular appearance, and
one which was well worthy of attention, for the novelty of
the sight. Reversing the order of nature, the sbalow of
the mountain was now seen upon the itnmenee mass of
white mist which enveloped and buried the Valley and
Lakes below, thus forming a singular mirror, where it was
as visibly marked out, sketched, as it were, by the pencit
of the Deity, even to the cross, which stands upon the
highest part of the Culm, placed there to designate i's
extreme height, and at the time time to mark out a spot,
hanging over a deep gulf or precipice, which proved
fatal, about two years ago, to a young German, who had
been repeatedly warned not to advance so near its crum-
bling edge, from which he fell, and was dashed to pieces.
To add to the melancholy tale, as the story goes, his wife,
to whom
.he had lately been married, was present, and
near lyfellAa
monument,victimto a
which
vain ff.w., rats
raised
t osave
thoi mh
isashewas
falling. memory.
and which commemorates the event, is to be seen at one
of the Churches at Lucerne."

STORM AT BOULOGNE.
WRITTEN UPON THE SPOT.
Oh! what a din:—what tumult of wild waves is here!
The waters seem as if they'd wash away
The steep! What chance has, then, yon wave-beat bark,
That, on yon sands, close to the rocky shore,
Writhing beats to and fro, telling sad tale,
While the wild waves leap o'er her decks,—or beat
Her sides—while now the howling winds
Relentless mock the handyworks of man ?

See the long line of surges, boiling fierce
Like water in a caldron,—in wild rage
Chasing each other,—striving which shall tirst•- -
Shall soonest—lash, with dying howl, the shore,_
Dying, exhausted in their fury!—while afar
At sea, even to the horizon, others leap
Up with their hoary heads, preparing for
Fell havoc ;—threat'ning, with their thunder, woe,
Destruction, death, to all who daring meet,
Or, hapless, find themselves o'erteen,—enclos'd
Poor boat !—Now buried in a fog of foam
Thy scuppers run a snowy stream, and give
The engulfing waters to the mother sea,—
Ouick to return again.—One level waterfall,
From ocean's distant line e'en to the coast
Which now we tread! a deluge vast it seems,
Threat'ning to o'erwhelm all :--and now I feel
As safety only were in flight ;—and look
Back to the towering steep ere too late,—
As if nought else could presently restrain
The rebel foe :—as if the flood would soon
O'ertake us in its race.—Never till now
Beheld mine eye such anger, when each wave
Unbridled seems, and curbless in its might!