GLIMPSES 0>’ WESTERN EUROPE. 
117 
and color in the thousands of looms—all worked by hand and foot. Visit the 
Veterinary School. Spend the Sunday. Grand military review. * * * 
A delightful ride along the banks of the wild blue Rhone has brought me 
well nigh to Geneva, gem of the Mountain Republic. 
Well, my tour through France has been exceedingly satisfactory—has given 
me enlarged views of her resources and progress, and probably a juster idea 
of both people and government. The empire is alive and resolute. A nation 
wdth a Napoleon at the head, infusing and diffusing his own ambition and 
fiery energy everywhere, could not long be a dozing nation if it would. 
The aspect of the country is remarkably diversified ; the sections through 
which flow her four great rivers, (the Seine, the Loire, the Garrone, and the 
Rhone), presenting some of the finest scenery in the world—])road cultivat 
cd fields, with here and there groves and heavy bodies of timber, beautiful 
sloping vineyards, and grand old mountains, crowned with evergreen forests? 
or never-melting snows. Her climate, too, is unsurpassed,—cool in the north? 
adapted to the growth of the cereals; mild and equable in the central 
portions, where the vine flourishes best; dry and hot in the olive regions of the 
south. Her industry bears evidence of progress in every department. Agri¬ 
culture here, as everywhere, is behind, yet advancing. Yankee implements 
and a little Yankee gumption are needed. Still, a country that produces an 
annual crop of 225,000,1)00 bushels of wheat, 85,000,000 of rye, 50,000,000 
of barley, 14,000,000 of oats, 250,000,000 bushels of potatoes, 900,000,000 
gallons of Wine, 300,000,000 lbs. of beet sugar, $20,000,000 worth of silk 
and honey, together with much else, and that numbers 3,000,000 horses, 12,- 
000,000 cattle, 35,000,000 sheep, 1,000,000 mules, 5,000,000 swine and 1,000,- 
000 goats may justly claim pretty respectable rank among the producing king¬ 
doms of the world. 
But the whistle of the locomotive and the shout of “ Geneva !” from the 
train attendants, put an abrupt termination to my calculations and reveries. 
* * * Up with the rising sun, I sally forth to see whether I am to be dis¬ 
appointed. * * No. With Lake Leman (Geneva) on the north, the moun¬ 
tains of Savoy (late a part of Sardinia) and the picturesque valley of the 
Rhone on the south, the Jura mountains on the west, and the mnjestic Alps, 
crowned by Mont Blanc, on the eastj there is probably no city in Europe of 
superior natural interest and attractiveness. After a stay of two days, 
climbing the Jura, riding on the lake, w'atching the dashing heaven-blue waters 
of the river which divide the city and furnish power for its mills and manu¬ 
factories, and last of all looking into the mysteries of watch-making, I am 
every hour more loth to leave. But Mont Blanc is beyond, standing majestic 
behind the veil of clouds which unhappily obscure his face, and provokes me 
to the task of climbing the mountains which lie between. 
ACROSS THE ALPS TO MARTIGNY. 
* * * * Day-dawn found me just entering the beautiful valley 
of Clu«?es—one of the most charming little garden vales I ever saw. Rich 
crops of wheat, barley and grass were bending under the weight of fruit and 
dew, the morning birds were carolling their sweet songs, the matin bell of the 
village church, by a mysterious echo chimed its anthem as it were from the 
clouds, and the finger of Aurora was upon the tops of the mountains. Oh, it 
was a morning to be remembered forever ! 
Arrived at Cluses—a very little town of perhaps 50 houses, immediately at 
the entrance of a narrow defile, which separates two converging ranges 
of the Alps—I halted, bathed, slept; breakfasted and dined together, and at 
noon resumed my journey. The day was one of God’s best—the way as en¬ 
chanting as imagination could picture—smooth as a floor, shaded by trees on 
either side, winding along the banks of the milky Arve, and overhung by 
rocky ribs of the mountain, more than two thousand feet above. Near the 
little village of Maglan was passed the cataract of Arpenaz, which leaps from 
a projecting rock 800 feet high, touching but once in its way and, then 
only to fill the air with its jeweled, snowy spray and set a rainbow of glory on 
its front. 
