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The junction of the Arve with the Rhone is worth visiting, and is best seen from the grounds of a countryhouse, called Chatellainie, or Campagne Matthieu, on the rt. bank of the road, about 1 1/2 mile beyond the Porte de Cornavin. On the way to it, Les Délices, a country-house of Voltaire, is passed.

The Arve, a furious torrent, fed by the snows and glaciers of Mont Blanc, looks like a river of mud. The pellucid blue waters of the Rhone, though driven on one side by the furious entrance of its new ally, for a long time refuse to mix with it, and the line of separation between the blue and white water is most distinctly marked. At length the Arve gains the mastery, and the Rhone, once polluted, does not recover its purity before reaching the sea.

On the S.E. side of Geneva rises the Mont Salève, a long line of limestone precipices, seeming to impend over the town, though it is in reality miles off, and within the Sardinian territory. Those who are acquainted with Edinburgh may be reminded of Salisbury Crags in looking at it. The S. side of this mountain is a gentle slope, covered with verdant pasture, and sprinkled with houses. The whole of this vast inclined plane facing the Alps is strewn over with fragments of rock (protogîne), identical with that of which Mont Blanc is composed. By what agency they have been transported hither -a distance of 50 miles, as the crow flies-let the geologist explain. The largest of these masses is 7 ft. long.

The summit of the Salève, more than 3100 ft. above the lake, is frequently scaled by the inhabitants of Geneva, who make picnic parties to enjoy the view from its summit. The shortest road to it is by Carouge and Veyrier, 3 miles; whence a very steep path, practicable only on foot, leads up a gap in the mountain, partly formed by steps cut in the rock, and called Pas de l'Echelle, to the village of Monetier (pronounced Monte) 2 1/2 miles. Those who cannot walk may reach Monetier by a carriage-road, which makes a detour of 8 miles from Geneva, through the beautiful village of Mornex, at the back of the mountain. The pleasantest way is to be driven to Monetier, thence to ascend the Petit, or the Grand Salève, on foot, and to descend the Pas de l'Echelle on foot to Veyrier, whither the carriage may be sent round to wait for the party. R.

From Monetier to the top is about two miles. The view extends S. up the valley of the Arve over the Mole to Mont Blanc; E. over a vast expanse of the lake; N. to the town of Geneva, the Rhone, and the Jura behind; W. the eye follows the valley of the Rhone as far as the gap in the Jura Mountain, through which the river forces its way into France.

On the S. shore of the lake, about 2 miles from Geneva,

and a little to the 1. of the high-road to Thonon, is the Campagne Diodati, Lord Byron's residence in 1816; where he wrote the greater part of his "Manfred," and the 3rd canton of "Childe Harold."

The object of the greatest attraction to travellers, however, near Geneva, is, commonly, Ferney, the residence of Voltaire. It is situated within. the French territory, about 5 miles N. of Geneva, on the road to Paris by Gex. On the way thither, near Grand Saconnex, an eminence presents one of the best points of view of Mont Blanc.

Voltaire resided for nearly 20 years at Ferney, from 1759 to 1777. He may be said to be the founder of the village, which, before his time, consisted of but 6 or 8 hovels. He collected industrious colonists, introduced useful manufactures among them, and improved his estate of about 900 acres by draining, etc., besides building on it the Château which still exists. On the 1. hand, as you enter the gates, stands the Church, originally inscribed with the words "Deo erexit Voltaire;" the Theatre stood opposite, in which his own tragedies were acted by amateurs, but it no longer exists. The Château was never handsome, and is now somewhat dilapidated. Two rooms are still preserved, nearly in the state in which Voltaire left them. The furniture is faded by time, and decayed principally from the depredations of mischievous, relic-hunting visitors. The curtains of his bed are reduced to one-third of their original length by such thefts, and, if the practice be not arrested, will soon disappear altogether. On the walls of his bedroom hang some bad prints, but selected and placed there by himself; and worse paintings of his friends, Frederick the Great (a present from himself), Le Kain the actor, Catherine II. of Russia (executed in needlework by her own hand), and Madame du Châtelet. The Russian Empress, it will be remembered, sent an embassy from St. Petersburg to Ferney to compliment the Nestor of poets. On one side of the room is a monument, intended to hold his heart, inscribed, "Mes manes sont consolés puisque mon cœur est au milieu de vous:" it was set up by his adopted daughter, the Marquise de Vilette, and bears a strong resemblance to a German stove. By the side of it hang portraits of his seamstress, of the Savoyard boy, his servant, and of Pope Ganganelli. In the ante-room is a singular picture, painted by some artist of sign-post calibre, but designed by Voltaire himself. On the 1. hand he appears in the act of being introduced to Apollo by Henry IV., who holds in his hand a copy of the "Henriade." On the opposite side, the same Voltaire is seen conducted in triumph by the Muses to the temple of Memory, while his enemies and detractors, prostrated before him, writhe in torments beneath his feet.

The situation of Ferncy is most charming, in full view of the lake and of Mont Blanc; but of its beauty Voltaire seems to have had no idea, or at least no taste for it, as the windows of the house are turned directly away from the landscape. In the garden is a long berceau walk closely arched over with clipped horn beam-a verdant cloister, with gaps cut in it, here and there, to admit a glimpse of the prospect. Here he used to walk up and down, and dictate to his secretary. Among the trees of the grove round the house is an elm, planted by his own hand in 1763: it was struck by lightning in 1824. The old gardener of Voltaire, who was living within a few years, related some curious particulars of his master. He was always addressed by the people of the village as 'Monseigneur :" he drove out every day in a gilt coach, drawn by 4 horses, and he was a terror to all the little boys he met in his walks. Ferney, at present, belongs to the family of M. Budé de Boissy.

Perte du Rhône.

For travellers who are unacquainted with the route from Lyons to Geneva, the excursion to the Perte du Rhône at Bellegarde on the French frontier, may be recommended. The distance is about 16 miles, and by starting early it may easily be accomplished in a day. The road lies through St. Genix, where it turns off to the W., and skirts the base of the Jura to Collonges. A little beyond this village you enter

-"where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between

Heights which appear as lovers who have parted."

The lofty Vuache on the side of Savoy, and the huge mass of the highest part of the Jura chain, slope precipitously down to the torrent of the Rhone. The road hangs midway in this prodigious passage, and the celebrated Fort de l'Ecluse, the fortress which gives its name to the pass, commands this entrance of France. Infinite labour and expense have been used by the French Government to strengthen this position; additional batteries have been hewn in the rock above the lower fortress, and these communicate with the guard-rooms below by a broad staircase, more than 100 feet in height, hewn inside the solid mountain. Leave may sometimes be obtained from the governor to view the fortress; but at any rate the road passes through it, and enables the traveller to see something of its remarkable defences. From Collonges to Bellegarde (Hôtel de la Poste) the road sweeps along the wild gorge through which the Rhone pours. At Bellegarde it crosses the narrow and rocky bed of the Valseline. The traveller will walk from the inn to the Perte du Rhône (1/4

of a mile); he will find plenty of squalid guides to show him the spot where the 'river, which he has accompanied from the clear cistern of its waters through the rough mountain pass, plunges at once into the earth. When the waters are tolerably low, as in the spring or winter, the whole river is absorbed for a distance of 120 yards. No bottom has ever been found to the huge cavern which engorges the Rhone; nor has any substance or living thing thrown into it been known to come out again. The bed of the Valseline is more picturesque and scarcely less curious than the Perte. It is worth while to descend from the garden of the inn into the worn channel of this little river, which is almost dry in summer time, except where a runlet of its water burrows into the clefts and fantastic bends of the calcareous rock.

Another pleasant excursion may be made to D'Ivoune where the river Versoix takes its rise in a pretty grotto at the foot of the Jura; and people go to eat the small delicate trout which are taken in it. The view from the terrace of the Château D'Ivoune is very fine. The best road to go is by Coppet and Celigny (where the water-falls should also be visited), and to return by Ferney. The distance from Geneva to D'Ivoune is about 8 miles.



Lake Leman, in a Calm.

"Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake,
With the wild world I dwell in, is a thing
Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake
Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing

To waft me from destruction; once I loved
Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring
Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved,

That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.

It is the hush of night, and all between

Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear,
Mellow'd and mingled, yet distinctly seen,
Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear
Precipitously steep; and drawing near,
There breathes a living fragrance from the shore,
Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar,

Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more.

At intervals, some bird from out the brakes
Starts into voice a moment, then is still.
There seems a floating whisper on the hill,
But that is fancy,-for the starlight dews
All silently their tears of love instil,
Weeping themselves away.”

Lake Leman, in a Storm.

"Thy sky is changed!—and such a change! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud! Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between Heights which appear as lovers who have parted In hate, whose mining depths so intervene, That they can meet no more, though broken hearted! Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted, Love was the very root of the fond rage

Which blighted their life's bloom, and then departed,
Itself expired, but leaving them an age

Of years all winters,— -war within themselves to wage.
Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way,
The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand:
For here, not one, but many, make their play,
And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand,
Flashing and cast around: of all the band,
The brightest through these parted hills hath fork'd
His lightnings, as if he did understand,

That in such gaps as desolation work'd,

There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurk'd.
And this is in the night ;-Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be
A sharer in thy fierce and far delight,-

A portion of the tempest and of thee!
How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea,
And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!
And now again 'tis black,—and now, the glee
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth.
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye!
With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul

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