. One
day, a heavy thunderstorm burst over the valley, and sent down an
avalanche of mud, debris, and boulders, which rolled quite across the
valley and extended to the river. The news of the circumstance reached
Etienne when in school at Violens; the road to Les Ribes was closed;
and he was accordingly urged to stay over the night with the children.
But thinking of the anxiety of their parents, he determined to guide
them back over the fall of rocks if possible. Arrived at the place, he
found the mass still on the move, rolling slowly down in a ridge of
from ten to twenty feet high, towards the river. Supported by a stout
staff; the lame Baridon took first one child and then another upon
his hump-back; and contrived to carry them across in safety; but while
making his last journey with the last child, his foot slipped and his
leg got badly crushed among the still-rolling stones. He was, however,
able to extricate himself, and reached Les Ribes in safety with all
the children. "This Etienne," concluded Mr. Milsom, "was really a
noble fellow, and his poor deformed body covered the soul of a hero."

At length, after a journey of about ten miles up this valley of the
shadow of death, along which the poor persecuted Vaudois were so often
hunted, we reached an apparent _cul-de-sac_ amongst the mountains,
beyond which further progress seemed impracticable. Precipitous rocks,
with their slopes of debris at foot, closed in the valley all round,
excepting only the narrow gullet by which we had come; but, following
the footpath, a way up the mountain-side gradually disclosed itself--a
zigzag up the face of what seemed to be a sheer precipice--and this we
were told was the road to Dormilhouse. The zigzag path is known as the
Tourniquet. The ascent is long, steep, and fatiguing. As we passed up,
we observed that the precipice contained many narrow ledges upon which
soil has settled, or to which it has been carried. Some of these are
very narrow, only a few yards in extent, but wherever there is room
for a spade to turn, the little patches bear marks of cultivation; and
these are the fields of the people of Dormilhouse!

Far up the mountain, the footpath crosses in front of a lofty
cascade--La Pisse du Dormilhouse--which leaps from the summit of the
precipice, and sometimes dashes over the roadway itself. Looking down
into the valley from this point, we see the Biasse meandering like a
thread in the hollow of the mountains, becomin