in English, to accommodate emigrants resident in the city. One wing of the Hospital is appropriated to foundlings. Its spacious rooms had not at the time of our visit a single inmate. The average number does not exceed eight or ten a year--a fact strongly illustrative of the morals of the Genevese.

Our friends took us to the Athenæum. It is very much upon the plan of the Cercle des Phoceens at Marseilles. The apartments are spacious, neatly furnished, and supplied with all the appurtenances of such an establishment. Its code of by-laws is more severe than the creed of Calvin. A person is not allowed to walk, except upon tip-toe, nor to whisper above his breath. I observed among the books upon the tables, the North American Review, and other publications from the United States.

At evening we strolled across the Rhone, to a charming promenade on its right bank, to see another bright sun throw its last beams upon the snows of Mont Blanc. We here saw a panorama of the whole of Switzerland, in which the relative altitudes of the mountains and the dimensions of the lake, are accurately preserved. It is sixty feet square. Every village and hamlet, with the paths connecting them, are laid down. By the magic of the show-man's long wand, we were transported in less than an hour to every part of the country; crossing its beautiful waters, climbing its loftiest glaciers, and descending into its deepest vales.

In this excursion, we visited the old house, in which Jean Jacques Rousseau was born. It is a shattered, mean building, standing on an obscure street. Such is its decrepitude, that props are necessary to prevent it from falling. The front bears the following inscription:

"Ici fu né J. J. Rousseau, en 1712."

Brief as it is, no other was needed. The chamber of his nativity is on the second floor, with two small old-fashioned windows in front. It is of the humblest kind, corresponding with the obscurity of his birth. Such was the cradle of a man, who shook thrones and empires by the influence of his

pen.

Our last afternoon at Geneva was occupied in an excursion, with our friends, to the junction of the Rhone and Arve, several miles below the city. The latter torrent flows through

the vale of Chamouni, and drains the glaciers of Mont Blanc. It is of course an irregular and furious stream. Its waters are turbid, and of a much lighter complexion than those, with which they here mingle. Two separate currents are distinguishable for some distance below the junction. The Rhone hugs the lofty and romantic cliffs, which beetle above his green waves, and appears to scorn a tribute, though it comes from the monarch of the Alps.

At 4 o'clock on the morning of the 21st, we took our seats in the Diligence for Paris. We pursued the shore of the Lake to Rolle, and thence began to climb the hills of the Pays de Vaud. The route traverses a rough country; and the morning was so thick, even after daylight, as to circumscribe our horizon to narrow limits. The ascent of the Jura

is extremely arduous. All the passengers were obliged to walk for miles. This long range of mountains does not exceed three or four thousand feet in height, covered with deep forests, which had now assumed the rich and varied hues of autumn. The rocks are secondary, with an intermixture of loose fragments of granite, which do not appear from their localities to be natives of the ridge, but to have been thrown hither, in some of the great revolutions of nature.

Our zig-zag progress up the acclivities was slow, and the summit was not reached till noon. From the topmost crags, on the right of the road, we had a last and enchanting view of Mont Blanc, the long line of Alps, and the glaciers of Switzerland, glittering in a meridian sun; whilst the vast amphitheatre, in which the Lake of Geneva is embosomed, was filled nearly to its brim with a dense mist, rising to as perfect a level as the expanse of the sea. Some regret was felt, that a parting look could not be given to the blue waters of Le man slumbering beneath; though its image had already been indelibly impressed upon the mind. At our feet, on the opposite side of the mountains, spread another kingdom, making the third in sight at the same moment. But the frontiers of France looked uniform, dull, and uninviting, in compa rison with the romantic regions of Savoy and Switzerland, to which we now bade farewell for ever.

CONCLUSION.

UPON the summit of the Jura, with the frontiers of a country once traversed in sight, my readers and myself must part, so far at least as it regards a journal in detail. If circumstances permitted, serious doubts are entertained, whether the little incidents of another visit to France and England, necessarily bearing a strong resemblance to scenes already described, could be made interesting to the reader. In the mean time, as I am anxious to approach somewhat nearer my country and my friends, than the bleak ridge of the Jura Alps, before taking leave of those, who have had the patience to follow me in my rambles abroad, a brief outline of my homeward passage will be traced, noting a few of the more prominent objects, which fell within the sphere of my ob

servation.

Our journey to Paris, through Dole and Dijon, was extremely tedious, occupying four days, during which time the Diligence was constantly under way, though it made but tardy progress. The road is uniform, heavy, and dull, leading through a flat country appropriated almost exclusively to corn and vines, with scarcely a shade of variety in the scenery. Dijon, is the capital of the Department of the Cote D'Or. It is a town of some importance, the seat of the old Dukes of Burgundy. We rode several miles by the side of a new canal, which is about to be opened between the Seine and the Saone, connecting the waters of the Atlantic and Mediterranean. The work reflects credit upon the country. One of the passengers pointed out the native village of Buffon.

We found Paris agitated by three events, which excited more attention than the state of the country. These were the death of Talma, and the visits of Mr. Canning and Sir Walter Scott. The latter was still in town at the time of our arrival. A fair view of his person was obtained, in a walk through the Champs Elysées, at the celebration of the birth day of St. Louis. The crowd seemed to care less for him, than for wine, which flowed from vats gratuitously, the ascent of balloons, and the fiddlers and jugglers at the temporary theatres. He was plainly dressed, and passed unnoticed through the throng, with his daughter hanging upon his

left arm, while his right was used in supporting his infirmity. His heavy face was instantly recognized, from the bust that had been seen at Constable's, as well as from other likenesses and descriptions. The life of Napoleon absorbed most of his attention, and he was received with much less eclat, than Mr. Canning.

Talma's death shed a gloom, not only over the theatres, but through all classes of society, except the ecclesiastics. He was universally known, and much respected for his talents and acquirements, aside from his professional eminence. The shops were full of memoirs and eulogies, both in prose and verse.

The literary corps of Paris is sufficiently numerous, and not wanting in industry; but a majority of the number are employed in periodical publications, and in those departments, which can hardly be considered as falling within the province of regular authorship. Genius and learning are not sufficiently concentrated, to produce any of those splendid luminaries, which arose in the incipient stages of the Revolution, and were quenched in the blood of its concluding scenes. But if the thunders, which could shake thrones and kingdoms, are no longer wielded, the light artillery of wit and humour, the shafts of satire, and the weapons of political warfare, are managed with great dexterity. Reviews and newspapers have greatly multiplied within a few years, and are conducted with increased ability and spirit.

The Revolution had the effect to make the French more of a reading, inquisitive, and reflecting people, and to augment the demand for periodical literature, as well as for politics and useful information, The consequence has been, that intelligence is scattered over a wider surface, as in the United States; instead of being confined to particular classes or professed authors, as in England and some other European countries. To the Editor of the Revue Encyclopedique, the first work of the kind in France, I had the pleasure of an introduction, and met an agreeable circle of the literati at his table. His review is conducted with much talent, united to indefatigable industry; and some of the most distinguished men in Paris are among the contributors to its pages. Its contents are of a miscellaneous and practical character, precisely such as would suit an American community-one illustration among a thousand of the foregoing remarks.

During a second visit to Paris, much attention was given to politics. The journals were read daily, and we attended the debates in the Chamber of Deputies. But what can be said on this topic, which would be new or interesting in the United States, where the acts and views of the French government are almost as well known, in a month after they transpire, as are those of our own Administration?

I had the pleasure of being introduced to the leader of the opposition, who is now advanced in years, and venerable in his person. Such is his influence in society, and the interest which is felt in politics, that at an evening party, I have seen a circle of fifty gentlemen about him at the same moment, listening to his conversation. A subject must be very attractive, to withdraw the politeness and gallantry of a Frenchman from a devotion to the ladies.

The recurrence of the Holydays, and of the gay season of the Carnival, afforded us an opportunity of seeing more of the public and private amusements of the Parisians, than my limits will permit me to describe. On Christmas eve, the greatest religious festival, I joined a friend and his family, in making a circuit of the principal churches. But their decorations, as well as the ceremonies, appear tame, dull, and gloomy, in comparison with the pomp and splendour of Italy. The Carnival was not witnessed in the latter country. Its scenes were sufficiently gay, animated, and noisy at Paris. A bœuf gras, decorated with garlands, was led through the principal streets, followed by triumphal chariots, in which rode Cupids and other divinities of a maturer age, with half of the metropolis at their heels. The show was worth looking at, rather from its novelty, than from its intrinsic merits. Troops of both sexes, disguised by an interchange of dresses, were seen coursing the Boulevards, personating all manner of characters, and indulging in rude levities. Some

of them underwent a metemsychosis, and appeared at the windows, in the shape of bears and wild beasts. Balls were given every night, both in public and private, masked and unmasked.

We attended one or two at the French Opera, and half a dozen at the houses of our acquaintances. At the former, a thousand persons perhaps assembled each evening. Gentlemen of all ranks in society attend; but ladies of respectability are more particular, except occasionally, as mere spectators.

In the round of hospitalities, the dinner parties, soireès, and social circles of our friends, we found enjoyments of a