scenery is between Villeneuve and Ouchy. It has been sung about, written about, preached about; and to select Byron is always quoted, and deservedly, as he is, par what has been said and sung would fill a large volume. excellence, the poet of the Lake. Everybody knows the

lines

"Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake
With the wild world I dwelt 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 distraction."

And the lines

"Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face,

The mirror where the stars and mountains view
The stillness of their aspect in each trace

Its clear depth yields of their far height and hue."

A delightful hour or two in the evening may be spent in rowing on the lake in a good English boat (to be hired for two or three francs an hour on the Quai du Mont Blanc), or to take a place in the steamer for a short trip, and if so inclined, select one that has a company of Swiss singers on board to give a promenade concert.

As we shall return to the best part of the Lake of Geneva after visiting Chamouny, we will describe the celebrated spots as we visit them. Therefore for Vevey, Chillon, Clarens, Villeneuve, see pages 131, 132.

FROM GENEVA TO CHAMOUNY.

It will be well to remember that our coupon for the journey must be given up to the clerk in charge of the diligence office as soon as possible, lest the places should be previously taken. The diligences of the Messageries Impériales are arranged for affording the best views of the country,

the after part being open, and there being also two seats in front. When places are taken, they must be described and entered in the register of the office, and on the pay-bills of the conductor. This prevents all grumbling and confusion, as parties can only take their allotted places. Diligences start from Geneva at about seven o'clock in the morning, but this must be ascertained at the hotel or at the diligence office.

The route of the diligence from Geneva is through Chêne. Annemasse, about four miles from Geneva, is the first French (formerly Savoyard) village, and the office of the French customs was here; but there is no detention of the diligence for the examination of passports and baggage: we are "all right," and go on without any interruption. The Castle of Etrambière is passed on the right, at the foot of the Petit-Salève. The road approaches the Arve, and crosses the Menoge by a handsome bridge. At every stage the country increases in beauty, and objects of interest invite our attention. The Môle, a high conical mountain, is right on our front. On a small fir-clad eminence, beyond Nangy, stands the Château de Pierre, the property of an Englishman. Contamine is passed on the left, and two ruined towers of the ancient Castle of Faucigny stand out conspicuously.

Bonneville is one of the most considerable towns on the road, having a population of 2,127. At the foot of this town the Arve is passed by a new bridge; and on the river side is a monument ninety feet in height, erected in honour of Charles Felix, of Sardinia, as an expression of gratitude for favours conferred on the town, by the execution of works to prevent inundations of the Arve.

We pass on through flat meadows to Vougy and Scionzier, where the romantic Reposoir Valley lies. The ruins of the

Castle of Mussel are seen on an eminence to the left. The village of Cluses, newly built since the fire of 1844, is chiefly inhabited by watch-makers. Beyond Balme, two small cannons are planted, for the purpose of sounding the echoes; but it is hardly likely the coachman will wish his horse to be amused by the performance. The entrance to a grotto is seen on the side of the rock to the left, which is said to penetrate into the heart of the mountain to the extent of 1800 feet. Passing Magland and on to St. Martin, several fine cascades and waterfalls attract attention on the left; the rocks are exceedingly fine, and the low flat on the right shows signs of the effects of the overflow of the Arve, to which the country is subject. We pass on to Sallanches, where the diligence used to terminate its course, and passengers were transferred to small carriages, because of the hilly and stony roads before them. Now there is a new good road all the way, but it is not so interesting as the old. From the bridge here fine views of Mont Blanc are obtained, and we call in the aid of a well-known writer to describe the scene:

"It was now drawing towards evening, and the air began to be sensibly and piercingly cold. One effect of this mountain air on myself was, to bring on the most acute headache that I ever recollect to have felt. Still, the increasing glory and magnificence of the scenery overcame bodily fatigue. Mont Blanc, and his army of white-robed brethren, rose before us in the distance, glorious as the four-and-twenty elders around the great white throne. The wonderful gradations of colouring in Alpine landscape are not among the least of its charms. How can I describe it? Imagine yourself standing with me on this projecting rock, overlooking a deep piny gorge, through which flow the brawling waters of the Arve.

On the other side of this rise

mountains whose heaving swells of velvet-green cliffs and dark pines are fully made out and coloured; behind this mountain rises another, whose tints are softened and shaded, and seem to be seen through a purplish veil; behind that rises another, of a decided cloud-like purple; and in the next still the purple tint changes to rósy lilac; while above all, like another world up in the sky, mingling its tints with the passing clouds, sometimes obscured by them, and then breaking out between them, lie the glacier regions. These glaciers, in the setting sun, look like rivers of light pouring down from the clouds. Such was the scene, which I remember with perfect distinctness as enchanting my attention on one point of the road."

The road continues along the picturesque banks of the Arve, and soon the glaciers are visible, and peeps of the great Giant of Mountains are obtained.

CHAMOUNY.

(Hotels, D'Angleterre, and six others under same management).

Within the last few years the character of the village has much changed; it was a quiet secluded spot, and now, in the busy season, it is full of business and bustle. The valley is twenty-eight miles from north-east, traversed the whole length by the river Arve, and abounding in scenes of unrivalled magnificence. Here is a description from the pen of the writer just quoted :—

"The village of Chamouny itself has nothing particular to recommend it. The buildings and everything about it have a rough, coarse, appearance. Before we had entered the valley this evening, the sun had gone down; the sky behind the mountains was clear, and it seemed for a few moments as if darkness was rapidly coming on. On our

right hand were black, jagged, furrowed walls of mountain, and on our left Mont Blanc, with his fields of glaciers and worlds of snow: they seemed to hem us in and almost press us down. But in a few moments commenced a scene of transfiguration, more glorious than anything I had witnessed. yet. The cold, white, dismal fields of ice gradually changed into hues of the most beautiful rose colour. A bank of white clouds, which rested above the mountains, kindled and glowed, as if some spirit of light had entered into them. You did not lose the idea of the dazzling spiritual whiteness of the snow, yet you seemed to see it through a rosy veil. The sharp edges of the glaciers, and the hollows between the peaks, reflected wavering tints of lilac and purple. The effect was solemn and spiritual above everything I have ever seen. These words, which had often been in my mind through the day, and which occurred to me more often than any other while I was travelling through the Alps, came into my mind with a pomp and magnificence of meaning unknown before: 'For by Him were all things created in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers: all things are by Him and for Him; and He is before all things, and by Him all things consist.'

"In this dazzling revelation I saw not that cold, distant, or unfeeling fate, or that crushing regularity of power and wisdom, which is all the ancient Greek or modern Deist can behold in God; but I beheld as it were, crowned and glorified, One who had loved with our loves, and suffered with our sufferings. Those shining snows were as His garments on the Mount of Transfiguration, and that serene and ineffable atmosphere of tenderness and beauty, which seemed to change these dreary deserts into worlds of heavenly light, was to me an image of the light shed by His eternal