not larger than a mere speck, and its motions were only to be distinguished by the aid of an opera-glass. The climber -surely possessed of some evil spirit-was a young soldier, for whom lofty eminences had a special attraction, and who loved his cathedral of Strasbourg as much as Quasimodo loved the towers of Notre-Dame in Paris. He mounted up to the steeple as soon as he had a moment of liberty, and remained as long as he chose, for military discipline has little terror at 142 mètres above the level of the sea, the elevation at which this soldier indulged in his awful amusement.

One particular day the wind blew with a violence which gave one some idea of what must be its force in the higher regions, and especially round the spire. There it was not merely a gale but a hurricane, and the spectator shuddered to see the clothes of this daring climber blown about by the squall. In order to arrive at what is known as the platform, it is only necessary to have good legs and strong limbs, but above that point, one feels so much carried away by the air that surrounds him, that the greater number of strangers cease their ascent at the platform. Enthusiasts, however, with good lungs and strong limbs, work their way into the four turrets leading to the base of that octagonal pyramid, so bold and light in design, which really constitutes the spire. Those who are not over stout, and who do not fear dizziness, may clamber up still further by ladders to the lantern. Goethe accomplished this ascent more than once, for the purpose of getting rid of a constitutional tendency to vertigo, and carved his name upon the stone walls of the turrets, but time has already worn away some of the letters.

It is with difficulty that one passes the crown, and with still more that other architectural wonder the rose. Here the spire appears like a needle crossed with horizontal bars,

the arrangement forming a sort of cross. This part being passed, there is, in the absence of cross bars of metal or projecting corners of stone, but little support for the adventurous climber, who is compelled to creep up by his hands and feet. Finally, the spire terminates in a button which is less than a foot and a half in diameter. Formerly it served as a pedestal for a statue of the Virgin, but it is now merely the end of the lightning conductor that terminates the edifice. But it was here, upon this button, at the height of 466 feet above the level of the cathedral square, that the soldier used to take his gymnastic exercise. The people assembled in the cathedral close watched him with the most painful excitement, holding their breath, and trembling with horror, while the man at the time was standing on his head on the button, his legs in the air, announcing to the two banks of the Rhine, to France and Germany, that his feat was successfully acccomplished.

This was not the first time, however, that it had been done; for in the eighteenth century, according to the chronicle of the cathedral, a German chimney-sweeper climbed up to the button, and stood upright upon it. At that time there was no lightning rod running up at the sides, and the attempt was considered a most daring one. RoseMarie Varnhagen, a romance writer, has made the event the crowning incident of a very excellent novel. On the day of the inauguration of the Strasbourg Railway, the feat was repeated, and in this instance the amateur saluted from his lofty perch the balloon which was set off in honour of the occasion, and which passed quite close to him.

In earlier times a gentleman made a bet that he would walk round the balustrade of the platform, at which, as we said, all prudent persons with ordinary heads will first rest a

short time, and then retrace their steps. To walk on the parapet of the platform at this dizzy height was a terrible undertaking. The man, who was accompanied by a faithful dog, proceeded on his march, but being suddenly seized with giddiness he made a false step. His dog, faithful to him in death, sprang after him; and in memory of this act of devotion, the image of the generous animal is carved on one of the sides of the monument which the friends of the foolhardy man erected to his memory. Further, we read of a young man of a good family in Strasbourg, who indulged in similar dangerous diversions. He tied his feet together, and thus fettered, and helpless in case of accident, amused himself by leaping from the platform up to the parapet, at the imminent risk of being precipitated head foremost upon the pavement below.

"Love laughs at locksmiths," and Love never laughed more heartily at them than in the case of the daughter of the Earl of Gowrie, whose castle was in the north of Scotland. The Earl had made a young man prisoner, and held him in bondage in a tower which stood isolated by a space of about ten feet from the main buildings of the castle. The young lady regarded the prisoner, whom she saw daily at the barred window of his chamber, with that compassionate sympathy, which, on Dryden's authority, "melts from pity into love." An intimacy soon sprang up between the youthful pair, messages were exchanged, and in the course of time there were frequent interviews-the young lady obtaining access to the tower through the help of the old Highlander who kept the keys. One evening, before the castle-gates were closed, she contrived to glide round to the tower. The old nurse, who had not been taken into confidence, observed her, and went at once to betray

the love affair, which, had she only been consulted about it, she would have been but too happy to promote. The Countess of Gowrie at once went in search of her daughter. The young lady, who received timely warning of her mother's approach, would certainly have been caught had she attempted to return by the usual way. It was now evening also, and all the back entrances were locked and guarded. There was only one course open to her. She mounted up to the summit of the tower, and from its battlement made the splendid leap of nine feet four inches across the space which divided the tower from the castle, and landed safely within the main building. She at once repaired to her room, and lay down on her bed to await the event. Meanwhile, her mother, after searching all over the tower and the castle, came to her daughter's sleeping room, and found her peacefully reclining on her pillow. The young lady was of course astonished at a visit at that untimely hour; and the Countess was overcome with confusion for having for a moment entertained unwarrantable suspicions. The "Maiden's Leap," as it is called to the present day, was over a space sixty feet deep. It may be added that at their next interview, the lovers decided that the leap was too dangerous to be repeated, and that their only resource was to run away together-which second feat was achieved with success equal to that which attended the first.

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CHAPTER VII.

ROPE DANCERS IN ANCIENT TIMES AND IN THE MIDDLE

AGES.

Fêtes of Bacchus-Varieties of Rope Dancing-The most accomplished Dancers-The Caracalla Medal-Terence-Elephants on the Tight Rope-Rope Dancers of the Lower Empire-The Voleur under Charles V.-The Genoese in the time of Charles VI.Progresses of Sovereigns-Dancers at Venice.

JUMPING depends not merely on suppleness; it is necessary that the ground on which the leaper stands should furnish a sufficient support, for without this the projection which is the result of the sudden extension of the lower members could not take place, or at least its effect would be much weakened. Leaping, then, demands a sufficient basis; upon shifting sand it is impossible, while on the other hand, if the material be elastic, the reaction caused by the effort of jumping favours the movement of projection, as for instance, when a leap is taken from a spring-board. The same is the result when it is taken from a tight-rope. Evolutions on the tight-rope have been performed from the very earliest times, and their origin is hidden in the darkness of ages of which we have no record. Some historians refer us to the times immediately succeeding the Deluge for the commencement of this practice, but we content ourselves with the first mention of it among the Greeks. We read of rope-dancing shortly after the time of the institution of the feasts of Bacchus (B.C. 1345).