two down the valley, on the opposite shore of the lake, the graceful peaks of Pilatus give a welcome note of contrast. The church has a Romanesque tower; but the body, like most of those in the Alps, is Classical rebuilding. In the graveyard, however, stands the medieval bone-house, which, like others in the neighbourhood, is a separate and complete little church. The bones have been removed, and perhaps decently interred; but a tablet on the exterior still testifies to the appalling slaughter here of the people of Nidwalden--women and children, as well as men--to the number of more than four hundred, by the savage French Republicans in 1798. This frightful massacre at the hands of a brutal soldiery, infuriated by long resistance, lacked no circumstance of horror-- "Wasting fire and dying groan, And priests slain on the altar-stone"-- that, after the lapse of another century, may rival the German triumphs in Belgium. The visitor will find himself repaid by prolonging his adventure up the valley of the Nidwalden Aa to the upland vale of Engelberg, where still stands the famous Benedictine monastery that was founded circa 1120, and that received its present name ("Mons Angelorum," or Hill of Angels) at the hands of Pope Calixtus II., from the tradition, celebrated by Wordsworth in some feeble lines in 1820, that the site was pointed out by angel songs. Roughly half-way up the valley is the village of Wolfenschiessen, hard by whose parish church is the little wooden house, or hermitage, that was inhabited by the hermit, Conrad Scheuber (1480-1559), a grandson of Nicolas von der Flüe. This was built on the mountain pastures of the Bettelirüt, high above Wolfenschiessen, in 1547; and was transplanted to its present site in 1867. On the hermitage, or church--I foolishly seem to have made no note on the spot, and my recollection is misty--is a series of naïve paintings, representing scenes from the life of the hermit, and showing him engaged (unless I mistake) in the congenial medieval hermit-task of outwitting, or otherwise discomforting, a very material devil, or devils. [Illustration: BECKENRIED.]