372 LETTERS FKOM A CONTINENTAL TOUKIST. 



LETTER V. 



Geneva. 



THE impression made on me by Geneva on my entrance was that 

 of a toy- town. The small space it occupies, the varied colour of the 

 materials, the irregular position of the streets, the reflected light from 

 the glazed tiles seen through a perfectly clear atmosphere, with dark 

 mountains for a back-ground, all enhanced the effect. The popula- 

 tion amounts to 30,000. But from their mode of living in tall houses 

 of six and even seven stories, each family occupying but one floor or 

 part of a floor, the area on which it is built is not, I think, greater 

 than that of an English town containing a third part of the number 

 of inhabitants. The quais, which are quite new, and the houses on 

 them, are very fine, and bear the test of a close examination, which 

 is not the case with the other streets. But the beautiful lake pours its 

 waters through the town in a blue limpid stream, which retains the 

 name of Rhone, though it is hard to conceive that it has any con- 

 nection with the muddy torrent which flows into the upper end of 

 the lake. Before it reaches Lyons, the Rhone, passing over beds of 

 chalk or receiving other troubled waters which augment its volume, 

 becomes again discoloured, but for many miles the blue crystal of the 

 lake is unsullied. Even the muddy Arve, which is the offspring of 

 the glaciers in the valley of Chamouni, cannot stain its pure waters. 

 Nothing can be imagined more perfectly transparent than the Rhone 

 as it leaves the lake. Looking down on it from the Pont des Bergues 

 you might count the 'pebbles in its bed or the fish that sport in its 

 stream. By the way, this bridge of the Bergues is a wooden bridge 

 of such slight materials that carriages are forbidden to cross but at 

 a very slow pace, and the arches tremble under the steps of a foot- 

 passenger. A small island in the river, a few yards to the east of it, 

 has been planted as a summer walk for the Genevese, and the centre 

 adorned with a statue of Rosseau in bronze. It is connected with 

 the bridge. And here I must not omit to notice the difference of 

 feeling in the Genevese and French. This new bridge, built at the 

 expense of the town, is passed without payment. At Lyons I was 

 in the habit of crossing six bridges, and at every one paid a liard, or 

 half farthing, for the privilege. 



In the evening we drove round the environs of the town. From 

 an elevation to the south we had a magnificent view of Mont Blanc. 

 Though fifty miles distant, the gigantic mass was distinctly visible, 

 the outline as clearly pencilled against the sky as if it had been in the 

 immediate neighbourhood. The afternoon was cloudy, and during 

 the early part of the drive the great mountain was absolutely invi- 

 sible, but at last the vapours dispersed, and the view was magnificent. 

 The snow-capped summit and the inferior peaks, or rather bosses, 

 for they are not pointed, appeared towering above other vast moun- 

 tains, whose ridges were clad with perpetual snow, though so much 

 inferior in elevation. As the sun descended towards the hori- 

 zon the tints of the mountain varied from a light pink to a lighter 

 yellow, and as the evening closed in the lofty peak was again enve- 

 loped in clouds and lost to view in short, he put on his nightcap 

 and went to bed. The lake was gray : indeed, I was told the even- 

 ing was as unfavourable as possible for the water, which is usually 



