Obrazy na stronie

long, and a variety of dishes so disguised as to be name. less; with fresh prunes, pears, and grapes for a dessert. Delicious fresh prunes and grapes may be had here almost for the taking, but apples, pears, and melons, are scarce and dear.

At eight A. M., on the 17th, we entered Lyons, the second city in the kingdom, celebrated for its silk and other manufactories. A great portion of all the French finery which you wear, comes from Lyons. This city is built between the Rhone and the Soane, which are here about an eighth of a mile apart, and both very rapid; so there are abundant facilities for water-power machinery. The bridges and quays are of stone, and very handsome. Lofty heights, surmounted with fortifications, flank the city on either side, and give it an air of strength and importance. Eagerly looking forward to Italy, there was little to detain me here. I was disappointed, however, in not finding any conversible travellers here, on their way to the sunny land; and ten minutes were allowed me to decide whether I would go alone to Marseilles, and take the steam-boat for Genoa and Naples, in the face of the cholera, and at the risk of horrible quarantines; or turn off to Geneva, with the chance of finding a companion across the Simplon. The safer alternative was adopted; and taking leave of the pretty danseuse, with a promise to call on her at Milan, I mounted the banquette, and had another uncomfortable night ride.*

* Geneva is about one hundred and fifty miles from Lyons; and yet the fare was but ten francs.

Lyons-Frontiers of France.

The next morning, however, was beautiful, and we already began to have a taste of Swiss scenery, which appears to extend forty or fifty miles into France. The remainder of the journey was over long hills and dales; and we walked a considerable portion of it, enjoying occa. sionally a noble view of rough mountains and green valleys. At every hamlet and village, our passports were examined by epauletted officers. Near the frontiers of Switzerland, the Rhone comes tumbling down between two steep and lofty hills; those referred to, probably, by 'Childe Harold :'

"Where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between

Heights which appear like lovers who have parted
In haste-whose mining depths so intervene
That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted."


This is the only pass to this quarter of France, and is rendered impregnable by a strongly-fortified castle, lately built on the side of the crag, over the road; so that all travellers must pass through the court-yard, and submit to close examination. At five P. M., our passports were received by an officer in more simple uniform than usual; and this was the first intimation that we had left the domin. ions of Louis Philippe, and entered those of his republican neighbors. We soon saw other changes. The neat and comfortable cottages, and the taste and industry displayed in the adjoining grounds and gardens, in approaching Geneva, form a striking contrast to the miserable huts and farm-houses of the peasantry of France. Verily, the lower classes of the French are a filthy people. They seem

to have no idea of neatness, propriety, or comfort, in any thing. As farmers, and in nearly all the useful arts, they are a century behind the English. Madame Trollope, methinks, might here indulge her satirical pen, to her heart's content. But we were entering Geneva.


It was on a 'soft and lovely eve,' at six, when this pretty town and prettier lake, with the charming walks and gardens of the environs, first greeted our admiring vision. The frowning Jura looks down upon the lake on one side, and the distant snow-capped Alps, with Mont Blanc duly conspicuous, bound the horizon on the other. At the gates of the town, which is strongly walled, those impor tant documents, our passports, were again given up for inspection at the Bureau of the Confederation Fedérale.' The diligence passed round the famous great Hotel des Bergues, and over the pretty bridge which you see in the pictures, and set us down at the Hotel de l'Europe, where I was favored with a bit of a room on the fifth floor, for the hotels are all crowded. The Bergues, by the way, is considered the best public house on the continent. There you may mix with the lords, princes, pretty ladies, and handsome equipages, from all parts of Europe. This place being the head-quarters for tourists to Italy, and noted for its delightful situation and pure air, is always a favorite resort, especially for the fashionable and wealthy English.

I was so fortunate as to find a vacant room at Monsieur W's beautiful place in the environs, where I have the society of two or three English and American


families, besides the Misses W- who are intelligent sensible girls, and speak English 'like a native.' It is a most interesting family-uniting the simplicity and strength of the Swiss character with the refinement and grace of the French.

Geneva, you know, traces her origin far back into antiquity. It is mentioned by Julius Cæsar as a place of strength and importance. It now contains twenty-four thousand inhabitants. The city cannot boast much of architectural beauty. There are few public buildings of elegance, and the houses generally are antique and grotesque. The cathedral, (the same in which Calvin used to preach,) is the most conspicuous edifice in the town; but there are some large and substantial modern buildings on the banks of the lake. The Rhone, which enters the lake at the other end, leaves it here, and, as if refreshed by its expansion, again contracts itself, and rushes through the city in two branches, with the impetuosity of a torrent.' On the little artificial island adjoining the bridge, is a bronze statue of one of Geneva's gifted sons, JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU. Besides CALVIN, she can also boast of BEZA, CALDERINI, and PICTET, among her theologians. SISMONDI, the distinguished historian, now resides here. The library of the college, (which has twelve professors, and six hundred students,) was founded by BONNIVARD, the 'prisoner of Chillon.'


After rambling about to the Hotel de Ville, Botanic Garden, and the beautiful ramparts, from whence there are charming views, I walked along the banks of the lake

toward VOLTAIRE'S Villa, at Ferney, but by mistake took the road to Lausanne, equally noted as the place where GIBBON wrote the 'Decline and Fall.'

"Lausanne and Ferney! Ye have been the abodes
Of names which unte you bequeathed a name."

In the course of this solitary stroll, I found a retired little cove, and had the luxury of a bath in the lake, from the bottom of which I obtained several rather curious pebbles. After dinner,

"Lake Leman wooed us with its crystal face,

The mirror where the stars and mountains view

The stillness of their aspect, in each trace
Its clear depths yield of their far height and hue;”

and a small party of us, therefore, took a small boat, and rowed a few miles over its glassy surface. The lake is literally as clear as crystal; the bottom is distinctly seen in every part of it; and you recollect Byron says in a note, that he once saw the distant reflection in it of Mont Blanc and Mont Argentiére, which are sixty miles distant! We pushed out into the centre of the beautiful expanse of water, and 'lay on our oars' to enjoy a scene which must be almost unique in its loveliness, especially at this hour, when the distant, snow-white peak of the mighty Blanc is tinged with the rays of the setting sun. The picturesque buildings of the town rise above each other at the head of the lake; the banks on each side studded with villas, embosomed in trees, on green and verdant lawns; while the


dark frowning Jura' forms an effective back-ground of the picture. In our sail, we passed the villa at Coligny,

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