In the Jura [pp. 765-776]

IN TILE JURA.
le Lon-, both of whom resided here for some time. Mahaut was
a princess of inexhaustible charity, and spent her widowhood in
good works, according to the apostolic injunction. She founded
here a hospital for the poor, and another at her neighboring castle
of Bracon, gave a hundred ells of cloth annually to the destitute
at Arbois, and fed the needy in every direction. Her granddaughter, Margaret of Burgundy, after her husband was slain at
Cr6cy, also resided here a part of the time. She was very energetic in defending the country from the ravages of the Free Companies, and was remarkable for her generous style of living.
The crumbling ramparts of La Chatelaine afford a magnificent
view over the surrounding country. Directly beneath is the
beautiful Val d'Amaous, or Amour-a deep basin hollowed out
among the mountains, into which you look down as through a
veil of golden green, so brilliant is the verdure lit up by the noondaiy sun. Through this emerald valley flows with ceaseless
melody the Cuisance, one of the purest streams that ever issued
with strotng, impetuous dash from the innermost heart of a mountain. Towards La Bresse and Burgundy the undulating hills are
covered with vines, and at the east are the jagged peaks of the
inner Jura, looking as wild and solitary as when St. Romain
sought a hermitage in their pine-forests nearly fifteen hundred
years ago.
Descending into the Val d'Amour, you see far up in the side
of the precipitous mountain of La Chatelaine a yawning baume,
or cavern -a double cavern, in fact, bearing traces of its ancient
consecration to Druidical rites. In its remotest depths is a dark,
subterranean pool, restless and seething, and sending out deep
sighs as of a soul in pain. This is the source of the Cuisance,
which comes pouring out of the two openings with an awful
roar, forming a double cascade that unites in the valley below,
and goes winding off over a rocky bed through meadow and nar row defile, from one beautiful valley to another. The basin it
first waters merits its poetical name of Val d'Amour, or Valley
of Love, for it is, in truth, "hallowed with loveliness." It would
be difficult to find a spot that appeals more strongly to the ima gination. The precipitous mountains that wall in the valley, the
hanging woods on their sides once sacred to the Druids, the
mysterious cave devoted to their secret observances, the strange
torrent that issues from the mountain as if impelled by some
giant force, and the wonderful verdure of the basin it waters,
make up a picture of singular fascination.
In the centre of the basin is the village of Planches, at one
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