Note B

At this moment, the churches in the sequestered valleys of Dauphiny are in a deeply interesting state. Christianity and human nature are still to be found there in their most primitive condition. The wild and sterile magnificence of this mountain region does not possess for the traveller, the attractiveness of the rich and picturesque valleys of the Waldenses; and consequently the beautiful native simplicity of character of these “tenants of “the rock,” has not suffered the contamination which intercourse with strangers is often found to produce. Their dress, their appearance, their manners, their mode of life, are quite unique. The old men still retain the cumbrous cocked hat, and pig-tailed quieu, the short coat, knee breeches, and other relics of patriarchal simplicity, which, to a Scotchman, would almost point them out as the prototypes of the Covenanters of other days. Their food is a brown bread of unsifted rye, baked annually, and serves for the whole season; and their miserable hovels contain within their mud walls, in exemplary harmony, goats, mules, cows, poultry, and human beings. Yet all is peace and contentment. The stranger who enters these humble cots, will not be long of discovering the compatibility of intelligence, domestic happiness, and an elevated tone of piety, with much outward wretchedness, poverty, and filth. We cannot resist this opportunity of recommending the perusal of Dr Gffly’s interesting “Memoir of Felix Neff,” a young Swiss, who consecrated his life to the noble task of ministering to the spiritual and temporal comforts of these secluded mountaineers. His perilous labours among snows, glaciers, and wintry tempests, were worthy of the spirit of a martyr. Often, for months together, would he domicile himself amid the gloomy wilds of Dormilleuse, the highest inhabited spot in Europe, with nothing but a stable for his home; or travel for twenty or thirty miles on foot, to impart instruction or consolation to his scattered flock, although that could frequently be accomplished only by having steps cut in the ice, or by passing through defiles overhung by the avalanche. He fell a sacrifice, in the prime of youth, to his unremitting toils; but there are hundreds in these lonely glens, who still speak of him as their spiritual father, and whose children “rise up and call him blessed.”