the same hour at night. You may take these two meals, good or bad, as you find them, or go without.

When, after ascending the Jura mountains all night, the summit is at length reached by ten the next morning, no language is adequate to the view that bursts upon the eye of the Lake of Geneva; the Pays de Vaud; the distant Alps, and Mont Blanc.-Suffice the feeble effort I have made to describe the view at Lausanne.

At Dôle where we took a meal, I witnessed, for the first time, with indescribable emotion, the horrors of war :-those horrors so frequent on the continent; so totally unknown in England.

This secluded, romantic, village was unfortunately within the line of march of the allied troops at the period of the Battle of Waterloo. Placed on the very frontiers of France, the hostile, invading, army, elated with success, here chose to show their savage superiority. They not only possessed themselves of every cottage and house in the village, but plundered and destroyed all before them. When all that the house contained was utterly gone, then, to complete the havoc, they burnt it to the ground. The wretched inhabitants fled with their infants, to the woods, and, for four days, had nothing to support life, save the milk of a few cows. The world was all to begin again. Little succour or redress, to the hapless

peasantry! No punishment to the merciless soldiery!

At Geneva I had the singular good chance of arriving at an inn, and of going into the same room, at the very hour with three young English friends who each had left London at different periods; had taken different routes; had met on the road by accident, and now met with me on the same route as themselves. A quartett, instead of a trio, was instantly formed, for sociality, safety, and economy, equally combined.

Geneva, all peaceful as its tranquil lake and retired situation unite to make it, has, nevertheless, like its more potent neighbouring kingdoms, been torn by dissensions and revolutions, civil, religious, and political. It was known to the Romans, was serviceable to Cæsar; and subsequently formed part of the wide-extended dominion of Charlemagne.

In the fifteenth century, the Genevese suffered greatly from the contests with their implacable foe, the Duke of Savoy, and with their own bishops. It was about the year 1540 that Calvin came to Geneva, having, after infinite difficulty and much animosity, established that Reformation in religious tenets which had already spread over the best part of Europe. Calvin died here at the age of 55, in the year 1564.

About 1590, the Genevese were so reduced

long wars that our Queen Elizabeth remitted to

them the then great sum of 5000l. In December, 1602, the Duke of Savoy made a most daring, and wily, attempt to take Geneva by assault; but it failed, after trifling loss on both sides, by one of the strange chances of war :-the accidental sweeping away by a cannon-ball of three of the assailants' scaling ladders. In 1790, the influence of the French Revolution extended hither; and in 1794, Geneva was desolated by confiscations, condemnations, and bloodshed. In 1798, Geneva was annexed, per force, to France, and in the subsequent wars of that kingdom with Austria, Switzerland, generally, from her geographical position, and as being the great pass for the armies of either power, has been cruelly invaded, over-run, and oppressed.

Geneva and Lausanne have ever been noted for the rigid laws by which every species of luxury and indulgence are absolutely repressed. Many of these enactments of the present day trench so forcibly upon the liberty of the subject, as to make residence little suitable to the privileges of a freeborn Englishman.

The gates of the town being closed at a certain hour, entrance may be paid for during the first hour, or so, after this time; subsequently, admittance is totally denied. All parties and soirées are expected to be terminated before midnight. Permission for a ball is hard to obtain, and the

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Sumptuary Laws.

master of the house is liable to a fine if his company stay beyond the prescribed hour.

There are some curious ancient documents of the council of Geneva of this tendency. In 1649, no person was allowed a carriage, unless going into the country. In 1651, all dancing-masters were forbidden to teach dancing to any one of that city; followed by reflections on the horrors of dancing, which had caused the death of John the Baptist.

In 1669, dancing being still considered as contrary to the honour of the state, the use of a violin was forbidden, under penalty of ten crowns. In 1681, all lace was forbidden. In 1684, people of the first rank were not allowed to invite more than thirty guests to their wedding feasts; those of the second rank, twenty; the third, fifteen and in 1744, one ball only was ever allowed, and that on occasion of marriage. The company were prohibited from riding to the ball, and from displaying any jewels or gold; even the furnishing the good things of the table had its

restrictions.

Lake of Geneva.-We have made the tour of the Lake of Geneva, proceeding from Lausanne to Vevay and Clarens, immortalised by the pen of Rousseau, thence to Chillon (of which hereafter), crossing the Lake to St. Gingo, and back to Geneva, a distance of about sixty miles.

At Lausanne, a primary object with me was to see the house where Gibbon lived and wrote his history. It is a spot fitted for inspiration; now the private property of another family, and unexpectedly proved to be occupied by my banker, Mons. de Molin, to whom I have introductory letters.

The ancient Lausanne was destroyed more than 1200 years ago, by a fall of rocks into the Lake of Geneva, which raised such a swell of water that it burst upon the town, though at a distance of fourteen miles across the lake, and in a moment overwhelmed it.

The Lake of Geneva is swollen by the Rhone, whose muddy streams rush in with such impetuosity that they may be traced distinct from the clearer waves of the lake for nearly half a mile. It was at Lausanne that we embarked to sail amidst that scenery, where Nature has been so prodigal of beauty, and which the pen of Rousseau, Nature's own child, has, if possible, embellished. Much of the picturesque and romantic that he has dwelt on exists now but in his writings; but what man could not spoil still remains. There are still the peaceful, tranquil, shades of Clarens and Vevay-a land for lovers and for poets; a land to suit all temperaments; a fairy fertility and softness for hours of ease and peace; and, if the gloomy mind seek kindred horrors, here are the rugged, awfully frowning