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to this array of natural beauty is added the associated 

 interest which clusters all about this paradisiacal valley 

 and lake. Near this spot, at Ferney, is the picturesque 

 old villa of Voltaire. At the left extremity of the lake 

 is the mediaeval castle of Chillon, redolent of historic lore, 

 and preserving still the footmarks of the chained prisoner. 

 Bonnivard, worn in his dungeon's stony floor. At the 

 right extremity of the lake is Geneva, the city of Cal- 

 vin, and Servetus, and Rousseau; and directly across the 

 lake is Deodati, once the residence of Byron, whose stormy 

 genius wrestled with the lightnings which leaped from 

 the peaks of Jura in the rear, while he heard 



" Jura answer from her misty shroud . 

 Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud." 



Or, let us ascend the cliffs which break the ocean 

 surges at Nahant, and look down upon the towering bil- 

 lows as they roll upon the shore frothing with rage and 

 sending up a continuous roar along the beach, or howl- 

 ing in the windings of the long clefts which split the 

 beetling escarpments of rock. 



Or, let us ride upon a ship at sea, when sunset gleams 

 illumine the summer sky, and the phosphorescent fires 

 mark the trail of the vessel till it blends with commingled 

 sea and heaven. The brave ship rises and sinks with the 

 dying swell of yesterday's storm, and steams onward 

 toward her port. There is no sound in heaven or earth, 

 but that which ascends from our little world. The infi- 

 nite depths of space are populous but voiceless. The un- 

 searchable depths of ocean are populous also, and voice- 

 less. There disport the mute monsters whose dominion 

 has never yet been invaded by man. There swarm the 



