time on the cheerless prospect of leafless trees and blighted blossoms, and a chilled withering earth. I have often seen the ground covered with snow in the middle of May; that delightful month of which the poets sing in such raptures! I like London then. There is no society equal to London society. Its pleasures are inexhaustible.'

'And yet, Caroline, between ourselves, I do think the envied people who take the lead and give the tone to London society, are far from happy. They affect gaity and vivacity, to be sure, but they cannot conceal their real unhappiness and discontent.'

'O! people that live as they do-entirely for display-must be unhappy every where. The fault is not in London, but in themselves. They seek society as they do a glass-not for itself, but for the image it gives them back of themselves. London is delightful for those who only want to enjoy it, but miserable for those who want to shine in it. Delightful for those who wish to see; miserable for those who live only to be seen. They force themselves on the stage, and fatigue themselves by representation, and fret their little hour,' for the amusement of the others; and perhaps are assailed by hissing and hooting, and derision. There is Lady

The conversation here turned, (as conversation often does), from general observations into a more piquante dissection of individual characters ;-which, no doubt, would afford great amusement to the fair friends, but would prove very dull to the fair reader. We therefore hold it unnecessary to record it.

It may be observed that Miss St. Clair's spirits

did not seem much affected by Mr. Lindsay's absence. Whether or not she did feel any sensation of disappointment at his rapid flight to England, without uttering one expression of regret at departure, or wish to return, we dare not presume to guess ;-but certain it is, if she did feel it, she had too much spirit to shew it— too much pride to own it---and far too much sense to indulge it.

CHAPTER X.

CHAMOUNI.

It was a chosen plot of fertile land
Emongst wild hills set-like a little nest,
As it it had by nature's cunning hand
Been choycely picked out from all the rest,
And lay'd forth for ensample of the best.

Musing meditation most effects

The pensive secresy of desert cell,

Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds.

SPENSER.

AFTER many delays and changes of plan, the day was at last fixed for the excursion to Chamouni by way of Geneva, and the party accordingly set off, in an open barouche, in high spirits, for that celebrated valley of mountains. So wonderfully has nature hidden this secluded recess, that it is said actually to have remained wholly undiscovered until the middle of the last century-unknown even to the

Swiss themselves. Two enterprising English travellers were the first who penetrated its unexplored depths, and proclaimed the sublimity of its unparalleled scenery to the world.*

We deeply regret that the irrecoverable loss of Caroline St. Clair's letters to her sister, during this little tour, obliges us to supply the blank with our lame and imperfect history, since it is impossible for us, with all our ingenuity and knowledge, to know so well what the travellers saw, and what they thought, as they did themselves; - although we ought to blush for our deficiency in this respect, since certainly many writers seem much better acquainted with the thoughts and feelings of those whose histories they relate, than the said personages were themselves--and indeed it is quite common in this well-informed age, to find that your neighbours know far more of your affairs than self.

you do

your

It had been settled that Mrs. Cleveland and Lord Lumbercourt-neither of whom could undertake any of those adventurous exploits of Alp hunting usually performed at Chamouninor yet scale the sublime passes which divide its upper extremity from Martigny, should quietly return to Geneva together, by the road they came, after visiting all the accessible wonders of the valley-while Colonel Cleveland, with Miss St. Clair and Mademoiselle Delemont, were to explore every Alp and glacier accessible to human or mulish foot--and crossing the Col

*So says M. Ebel---Vide Manuel du Voyageur en Suisse. Pococke the traveler, and Mr. Wyndham, were the English gentlemen who first visited it, in 1741.

de Balme, return by Martigny to Lausanne. Nothing can be more opposite (in character) than the opposite shores of the Leman Lake. On the Swiss side, where Vevey and Lausanne stand, there is an endless succession of vineyards,―invariably the most tame and unpicturesque of all scenery of towns and villages, and campagnes, and gardens, and stone wall enclosures, while not a tree is to be seen.-On the Savoy side, the Alps-'the' pyramids of nature,' rear their crystal 'needles' to the skies ;rocks piled upon rocks are strewed around, and ancient woods of oak and chesnuts, the most picturesque of all trees, now climb the dark sides of the hills-now bend their drooping foliage over the waters of the lake.-Consequently, the ugliest side is much the prettiestI mean to travel or live upon ;-for while Savoy beholds only the homely hard-working face of her opposite neighbour, -the Canton de Vaud, happily losing sight of her own plain visage, contemplates the fine features of the opposite beauty.

It may easily be imagined, therefore, that the attention of our travellers, during their first day's journey, which terminated at Geneva, was continually drawn to the mountains of Savoy -more especially towards its close, when their eyes were incessantly rivetted upon the ultimate object of their excursion, still far distant, yet alone distinctly seen-the mighty Mont Blanc -his awful heal, hoary with the silver whiteness of age, outstretching his giant length far along the opposite side of the lake, and piercing with his hundred heads the bright blue arch of heaven;-as if, like another Atlas, his lofty

-

pointed pyramids were the pillars of the firmament, and he the Colossus of this world, stood alone, looking down on the Alps themselves, his children, surrounding him in seeming reverence ;--while man--to whom the whole earth, and all that it inherits,' are subject-is compelled to gaze like a humble worshipper, at the footstool of his throne, nor ever presumes, in the madness of his ambition, to lay claim to one inch of that undisputed territory which the monarch of mountains calls his own.

The travellers, on their way to Geneva, stopped at Coppêt, the residence of Madame de Stael, but as she was not there, and as it possesses no intrinsic interest, their curiosity was soon satisfied-if not gratified ;-though there is always a charm in seeing the habitation and apartments, which are the home of genius. They proceeded a few miles beyond Geneva, to visit Ferney, the celebrated abode of Voltaire— where all the traces the philospher has left behind him, serve but to mark consummate vanity, bad taste, and bad feeling.

Next morning they set off on their way to Chamouni, at an early hour-for even Lord Lumbercourt could be early, when roused by a powerful stimulus,-whether that stimulus was the sight of the frozen glaciers, or the sunny smiles of Miss St. Clair, we pretend not to decide.

Leaving on their right the broken perpendicular sides of Mount Salêve, they reached the Sardinian Douâne-at the frontier of Savoywhich was already crowded with the carts and anxious faces of the poor peasants-waiting the vexatious examination, and dilatory permit of