We set out on a fine morning for Zwey Lütschinen, and thence proceeded to Lauterbrunnen. The first part of the walk is amazingly fine; the second still finer. It seemed impossible that after this there could be any thing worth seeing in the way of mountain vallies, but I was very much mistaken. The best notion I can give you of the valley of Lauterbrunnen is, to tell you to magnify Gordale, and stretch it out into a valley six or seven miles long; put trees, hedges, and cottages below, fringe the tops of the precipices with trees, and pour down a multitude of little waterfalls. Of these the Staubbach and the Myrrenbach are the principal; the first falls 900 feet, and for two thirds of the way without touching the rock; the latter I should think quite as high, but it streams down like a lock of dishevelled hair of the purest white. The next morning I ascended to the top of the Staubbach, and to the foot of an upper fall; and here standing on a rock at the summit of the great fall, in a place however of perfect safety; I looked down into the deep contracted valley beneath, and saw one of the smaller waterfalls entirely turned into a rainbow. I had no idea of the presence of water there, except from the colours it produced. I then continued my walk to Myrrem, one of the highest villages in Europe, though not by any means the highest habitation. It is 5,156 feet above the level of the sea. The _Curé_ of Lauterbrunnen, at whose house I have taken up my lodgings, pays it a visit every winter. I was at first surprised at his chusing this time of year to visit his parishioners; but he reminded me that in the summer, the men were dispersed in the chalets still higher on the mountains. The path in winter is very dangerous, as the little streams are frozen, and present inclined planes of ice which terminate in the precipices overhanging the valley of Lauterbrunnen. At Myrrem, the sun shines every fine day in the year; at a hamlet beneath it, they are three months without sun. Even at Lauterbrunnen in the middle of September, the sun does not appear till past eight, and sets about half past two. This walk gave me a fine view of the branch of the Alps which divides the Vallais from the Oberland of Bern, some of the highest and wildest in Switzerland; and I had the pleasure of seeing, though at a great distance, a considerable avalanche. I suppose the fall could not be of much less than 1,200 feet, and it raised a cloud of snow which at last obscured the whole mass of rock. Hardly half an hour elapsed during the whole walk, in which I did not hear some smaller ones, and I saw many; but such an exhibition as this large one is of rare occurrence. As they give no previous notice, the traveller has but little chance of seeing them, till the sound of the first fall serves to direct him, and of course the first burst is thus lost to the eye. My attention was quite on the alert, and I marked a vast body of snow and ice on the Ebene fluh which seemed almost suspended, and a dark line above indicated that a separation had already taken place. I watched for some time in hopes of seeing a most stupendous fall; for there were, I dare say, ten acres of snow and ice, and the middle of the mass was not less than 100 feet thick,—but I watched in vain. These avalanches are only from one bed of snow to another, or on to ground kept naked by frequent falls, and consequently do no harm. It is those formed of the snow of the preceding winter, and falling in the spring, on or near the cultivated ground, which do so much mischief. They destroy all the hopes of the farmer, and bury his cottage, or overturn and carry it along with them; and even sweep down the woods before them. The wind produced by them is said to be so violent, as sometimes to throw down large trees, which are not touched by the snow. Descending into the valley, I stumbled upon another waterfall; perhaps the most beautiful of any, though less astonishing. It is only about 120 feet high, and is therefore no subject of interest or admiration to the inhabitants, who see so many of much greater elevation.