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Show In each pillar there is a ii"g And in each ring there ia a chin. We verified tho Beven pd'ars, look hold of the one ring and looked in vain for the chain. Solemnly we pressed our feet into the very path worn by Bonivard 4uQ years ago, and so woven is tbe romance wilb reality that in the dim light I even thought that I discerned the two graves and detected myself in the effort to determine deter-mine under which of the narrow cleft in the wall Byron's prisoner "made 4 footing" to ascend to tbe barred windows win-dows and to bend Onco more upon the mountains high Tho quiet of a loviug oy). I think that I preler tbe myth to the fact, for my heart has throbbed and Bufiered with the man "grey but not with years," while Bonivard is but a heroic name. I read in my guide book that "having returned to the republic he ppent the remainder of his hie as a highly respected citizen, and died at the age of 75 years," which sounds very prny and does not call for my pity. It was worth sir years of the lifo of any ordinary hero to secure a 400 years' honorable mention, and te have the place of his incarceration pointed out lo pilgrims from all parts nf the world; though is it not the truth that the "Fable," as Byron calls it, is what renders Chillon famous, rather than the well certified trials of a "sure enough" prisoner? There is one dungeon oalled the chapel, where the consolations of religion re-ligion were ottered to the doomed; hardly Christian consolation one would infer from a glance into the adjoining torture chamber. Over the dungeons are the apart ments ot the duke of Savoy and the Knights Assembly hall, with an immense im-mense fire place, large enough to have held the usual coach and four; blackened with the smoke ot convivial conviv-ial fires, the pot hooks speaking of steaming bowls of wassail and knightly carousal. There is a fine old carved ceiling, and some rude nt tempts, or rather remains ot fresco; and rusted spears, Bhiclds, tattered banners, and other warlike insignia hung upon the walls. Eateriog one ot the turrets we descended to a low-vaulted low-vaulted room where there was an opening in the stone flnor surrounded by a railing, called Les Oubliettes the "place of oblivion," or most emphatically, em-phatically, iu classic language, "the jumping ofTplace." Within therail-ing therail-ing wero three innocent looking, descending des-cending steps, which seemed to end in the darkness, a darkness into which we strained our eyes while listening to tbe statement that, as certified by the prison records, no less , than seventy human beings bad been forced from tbe lowest step to certain death, transfixed upon the upturned ! points of spears full eighty feet below. This was the culminalmg horror of i Chillon, but after the bloodcurdling Eiserne Juogfrau of Nuremberg, this looked merciful. No wonder that the pious Bernese, in order to exorcise the evil spirits which must have congregated here ot old, inscribed over tho portal these wordB: "Gotl der Herr segno den ein und Ausgang," (God bless all who come in and go out) and in bo doing baptized it, as it were, into the new faith of "good will to men." Aller a half hour's waiting at tha railway Btation the slow moving can : crept along, and we secured seats here i and there, glad to be homeward ! bound with tbe satisfied feeling that i ttie day had been well spent, and that 1 we had bad the "worth of our money." Per capita, $1.80 United States coin, expenses of the day round ticket to Chillon, go by steamer, return by rail, coffee on steamer and lunch at Gliun; also fee lor entering the ensile. After all Hhe flights of Ihe day I am brought back to prosaic life by this thread of expenses and a "short" thread it is, tuo. E. G. Li. |