the geology of man, with human relics
subterrene or subaqueous. In the midst of
their full life they were suddenly and utterly
destroyed; if not by a volcano or an earthquake
that engulphs or overwhelms them,
by man's own rage. The excavations of
Wroxeter display a people suddenly crashed
by some other people. The conquered are
gone: the conquerors themselves have passed
away. Similarly, the Swiss lakes are now giving
up their records of hasty catastrophes,
and nations blotted out for ever. But why so
sudden? Why so complete these
destructions? Here, the doombook is silent and
decipherless.

I can only glance at later eras to be read in the
contents of Professor Troyou's museum.
Arranged with infinite knowledge, this complete
collection rises from the age of stone and wood
to that of bronze (which composite material,
though imperfectly mixed, does, singularly
enough, precede any demonstration of simple
iron), and so on to periods, still remote, but
which, like the Eocene and Pliocene of Geology,
are assimilated to our own time by form and
material; periods in which the luxury of the
precious metals, and the beauty of gems, far
from being unknown, were displayed in works
of human fancy, then young and vigorous, which
modern art but feebly imitates.

There is, however, one group of relics of the
ante-Roman period, evidences of an event that
probably occurred two centuries before Christ,
which I cannot pass over in silence, since these
evidences contrast most strikingly with any
revelations that we obtain of the harmless, childish,
and in all respects—except the poniards—peaceful
people of the Lakes.

The time had grown warlike: as the bronze
spear-heads and swords demonstrate. The
human beings had grown larger: I could almost
insinuate my hand into the inflexible bronze
circle without a clasp, which was called
a woman's bracelet, while a woman's bronze
girdle, with clasp, gave no wasp-like idea of
the women's waists of the period. Society had
left the lakes, as too tame, in order to dwell in
the hills and forests: living, to construct bloody
altars; dying, to be burnt and potted in tumuli.
The relics I was now surveying came from a
tumulus opened some years ago, under the
direction of Professor Troyon, of course in a
forest, on a hill. The hill and the forest
are about five miles inland from Lausanne.
The relics are three earthen pots which are
filled with a calcined-looking stuff; then,
sundry small bones of animals; then a number
of warlike implements, and a still greater
number of female ornaments, consisting of
glass-bead necklaces and bracelets, that have
an Egyptian character, and a very curious
appendage, like a little bronze cage with a
round white stone loose in it—a child's rattle,
in fact.

These objects were found in the following
order: Lowest were the earthen pots that held
all which had once been a hero, or heroes.

Above these, came a vast assemblage of
bones, supposed to be those of the warrior's
favourite animals, which were slain in order
that they might accompany him into Hades.
At the summit of the tumulus—crowning the
terrible interest—were four skeletons of females,
supposed to be the warrior's four wives, also
sent after him to Hades.

Concentrating the interest, I take the
professor's account of the uppermost skeleton.
It was that of a young female, in an attitude
of supplication and wild agony. The knees
were bent, as if she had implored for life; the
arms were cast on high, as if in frantic deprecation
of her fate. She had evidently been tossed
upon the top of the pile, and her limbs yet
retained the very posture in which she died.
Then earth and stones had been thrown hastily
over the corpse, to crush out the remains of
life, if any remains of life there were. A large
stone had shattered one of her feet; another
lay across her arm, the bone of which it had
broken.

"Was she stoned to death?" I asked: "No,"
replied the professor: "she was probably
slaughtered at a stone-altar, which was close to
the tumulus, and in which the customary blood-
basins of the heathen are still to be seen in
situ—for, the altar, as we had others of the same
kind, we did not remove from its place.
Besides, it was the wish of the owner of the
wood that the relic should remain on his property."

"Did you preserve the skeleton?"

"I could not. It fell into a thousand pieces
in being removed from the pile. But here is
the young creature's skull; and you see by the
teeth (magnificent are they not?) that the poor
thing was young."

I was struck by the preservation of the small
and perfect teeth; and moreover by the fact
that the skull was beautifully and intellectually
formed.

"Ay!" said the professor, "it was an affecting
sight to see that skeleton uncovered, telling
its own poor history of two thousand years
ago! Several ladies, who were present at the
exhumation (the whole search into the tumulus
took four days; and, as it excited great interest,
was attended by many people), shed tears as
they looked at the remains."

I felt how possible it was, even for a man,
to have wept at such a drama; and the thought
occurred to me, "Eras do not always rise
to better things! The poor gentle savages
on their artificial islets would not have
done the deed which the nation of the forest,
capable as it was of higher arts, arms, and
manufactures, so fanatically perpetrated. Was
there ever a priest upon the tethered rafts of
the Lakers? We find no trace of him! But
here was evidently a grand Sacrificator, and an
unexceptionable Altar. Blessed be the Faith
which has overturned every sacrificial altar save
that of the loving heart!"

Here, according to all the laws of climax, I
should end; but I cannot help throwing out