Rationalising theory has been at work with the Swiss Dwarfs also. It is supposed, that the early inhabitants of the Swiss mountains, when driven back by later tribes of immigrants, retired to the high lands and took refuge in the clefts and caverns of the mountains, whence they gradually showed themselves to the new settlers--approached them, assisted them, and were finally, as a species of Genii, raised to the region of the wonderful. For our knowledge of the Dwarf Mythology of Switzerland, we are chiefly indebted to professor Wyss, of Bern, who has put some of the legends in a poetical dress, and given others in the notes to his Idylls as he styles them.[302] These legends were related by the peasants to Mr. Wyss or his friends, on their excursions through the mountains; and he declares that he has very rarely permitted himself to add to, or subtract from, the peasants' narrative. He adds, that the belief in these beings is strong in the minds of the people, not merely in the mountain districts, but also at the foot of Belp mountain, Belp, Gelterfingen, and other places about Bern.[303] As a specimen of Mr. Wyss's manner of narrating these legends, we give here a faithful translation of his first Idyll.[304] _Gertrude and Rosy._ GERTRUDE. Quick, daughter, quick! spin off what's on your rock. 'Tis Saturday night, and with the week you know Our work must end; we shall the more enjoy To-morrow's rest when all's done out of hand.[305] Quick, daughter, quick! spin off what's on your rock. ROSY. True, mother, but every minute sleep Falls on my eyes as heavy as lead, and I Must yawn do what I will; and then God knows I can't help nodding though 'twere for my life; Or ... oh! it might be of some use if you Would once more, dearest mother, tell about The wonderful, good-natured little Dwarfs, What they here round the country used to do, And how they showed their kindness to the hinds. GERTRUDE. See now! what industry!--your work itself Should keep you waking. I have told you o'er A thousand times the stories, and we lose, If you grow wearied of them, store of joy Reserved for winter-nights; besides, methinks, The evening's now too short for chat like this. ROSY.