it had formed this deep fissure in the solid rock; the ravine, at the bottom of which, roars and foams this turbulent little stream, is crossed by two wire suspension bridges, one of which is the longest, of a single curve, in the world; its length being nine hundred and forty-one feet. That over the Menai Straits is five hundred and eighty feet. The elevation above the water is one hundred and eighty feet. There is a slight oscillation felt on walking over this bridge, which was perceptibly increased by a high wind, which was blowing at the time we crossed it, causing it to vibrate considerably; producing an involuntary sensation of insecurity, which had quite an effect upon us all, and much to our amusement, on Col. D. in particular. Soon after we entered on the bridge, having left the carriage, to go over on foot, we observed the Colonel" making tracks," as fast as he could, for the other side, and, upon calling to him to know what was the matter, he only waved his hand and pressed on the faster. It was truly frightful in appearance, but there could not possibly be any real danger, as the strength of the bridge has been fully tested, by filling it with loaded wagons and heavy trains of artillery, from end to end. Nothing, however, would induce the Colonel to put foot on it again. In the Cathedral at this place, is a celebrated organ, second only to that at Harlaem; a truly wonderful instrument, of great capacity and power. Bulle, through which town we next passed, is the principal depot for the Gruyere cheese, made in this region of country.

Our next stage was to Vevay, on Lake Geneva.

VEVAY-CASTLE OF CHILLON.

93

Back of Vevay, the ground is very high and steep, and the road, descending, winds in almost endless curves to avoid the steepness of the descent; extending five or six miles, where, if a direct course could be pursued, the distance would not probably be over half a mile. We did not regret this, however, as the road is excellent, and is bordered, the whole distance, by a most luxuriant growth of vines, that made it seem like one vast garden. Great attention is paid. here to the cultivation and improvement of the vines, and the wine of this district is said to be of superior quality.

We are now on ground made classic by the pens of ROUSSEAU and BYRON.

66

'Clarens, sweet Clarens, birth-place of deep love,"

is about four miles from Vevay, and Byron writes of this part of the lake, that in the impassioned and glowing descriptions of Rousseau, he "could safely say there was no exaggeration."

""T was not for fiction chose Rousseau this spot, Peopling it with affections; but he found

It was the scene that passion must allot

To the mind's purified beings; 't was the ground
Where early love his Psyche's zone unbound,
And hallowed it with loveliness. 'Tis lone,

And wonderful, and deep, and hath a sound,
And sense and sight of sweetness; here the Rhone

Hath spread himself a couch, the Alps have reared a throne."

The scenery certainly is beautiful and grand, beyond the power of such poetry even as BYRON'S to describe. We visited the Castle of Chillon, which BYRON has also immortalized in the poem of "The Prisoner of

Chillon," and saw the cell where BONIVARD was confined six long years, "until his very steps have left a trace, worn, as if the cold pavement were a sod." The castle is situated on an isolated rock, a short distance from the shore, surrounded by deep water, on one side, said to be fathomless. My companions will smile at the recollection of the fair guide who showed us the curiosities, and at her constant reference to "the good old times." She enjoyed her own jokes exceedingly, and had unbounded faith in her knowl edge of the English language, which she persisted in using, much to our amusement, and, as she seemed to think it ought to be, to our astonishment, at finding her possessed of so many accomplishments. We gratified her harmless vanity, laughed at her jokes, and, I hope, left a deep impression upon her mind, that we were possessed of much discernment.

CHAPTER XVI.

Scenery on the Lake-Geneva-The Tire Federale-PickpocketsFerney-Beautiful sunset view of Mont Blanc, with the moon rising over it-The Arve and Rhone--Byron's Villa--Calvin--J. J. Rousseau.

HE sail up the lake, from Vevay to Geneva, is

one of the most delightful that can be imagined. On the southern side the shores are bold and mountainous, with a view of Mont Blanc and other snowcrowned peaks in the distance. On the northern shore are vine-clad hills, beautiful villages, and elegant country seats. The water is clear and deeply blue. The weather was lovely, and we could not help enjoying the sail. This lake, with the surrounding scenery, deserves all that has been said and sung about it. Its deep, wònder-working influence on the mind may be understood, better than by any description of mine, from the effect upon the turbulent, restless, and dissatisfied feelings of such a jaded, misanthropic spirit as BYRON'S, SO forcibly expressed in the following beautiful apostrophe:

"Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake,
With the wide 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; once I loved
Jorn 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."

I hope the frequent quotations from BYRON will not be deemed out of place. Poetry is, in sober truth, the only suitable medium whereby to describe these enchanting scenes, and their bewitching influence upon the feelings; and where can such poetry be found as BYRON'S, who had a "soul to make these (sky, mountains, river, winds, lake) felt and feeling?" Yet even his soaring wing of poetry, fluttered and failed in the attempted picture:

"Could I embody and unbosom now

That which is most within me--could I wreak
My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw
Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak,
All these I would have sought, and all I seek,
Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe--into one word,
And that one word were lightning, I would speak;
But as it is, I live and die unheard,
With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword."

We were delighted at meeting an old friend, J. T. BRADY, Esq., of New York, on board the steamer; he was on his way from Italy, and gave us an enthusiastic description of the wonders of Rome, Naples, &c., and much valuable information concerning routes, hotels, and other matters of interest.

Geneva is beautifully situated at the west end of the lake, and has a very lovely appearance as it is approached from the lake. We arrived just at the height of a grand national fete, " The Tire Federale,” which is an annual shooting match, attended by the people of the different cantons of Switzerland, in great numbers, to shoot at a mark with the rifle. The prizes consist of all sorts of manufactured arti