We examined the two apartments in the basement, which emain precisely in the state he left them. The floors are omposed of wooden pannels; and instead of neat hearths, uch as a recluse would choose to cheer his solitude, are ubstituted gloomy earthen stoves, crowned with small terraotta busts of the philosopher, which looked as if they might ave been baked in the same kiln, that spread its noxious umes through the room. A profusion of brass and tawdry ilt ornaments render the pottery still more uncouth in its 1ppearance.

The paintings and decorations of the walls are in much he same character, as the other ornaments. Over the door s a picture, designed and composed, though not painted, by he philosopher of Ferney. It is as little creditable to his aste, as it is to his judgment and common sense. It repreents himself, in the attitude of presenting his Heriade to Apollo, who descends from Parnassus, attended by the Muses and Graces, to receive the offering of the self-complacent poet, and bear it to a temple which is seen in the background.

One apartment contains a portrait of Voltaire, which was taken at the age of forty-four. Here also are likenesses of Washington, Franklin, Frederic the Great, Sir Isaac Newton, Milton, and some of the distinguished men of France, intermingled with queens, actors, mistresses, and favourite

servants.

The exterior appendages of the Chateau are in much better taste. In its rear is a beautiful garden, looking upon the Jura Alps. The grounds are laid out in the style of English parks; shaded with groves of maple, beach, elm, limes, and other stately forest trees, overhanging walks for exercise and meditation. In the midst of the woods is a pretty fountain, filled with gold-fish, that came up in swarms at the whistle of the old valet, who says they know him, and will eat bread from his hand. To this villa belonged a thousand acres of excellent land, finely wooded, well cultivated, and productive. Such a tract, bordering upon the lake, and in the vicinity of Geneva, was of itself a fortune more splendid, than literary men generally realize.

We went to the tomb which Voltaire caused to be constructed for himself. It is a Gothic, misshapen pyramid, daubed with stucco, standing by the side of the public road, naked of foliage, instead of being hidden, as it ought to have been, among the woods, at the side of his fountain. It is of

course a cenotaph, as he died at Paris; but there has been no loss of brick and mortar, as the rude structure is much fitter for a hen-coop, than for the sepulchre of a man of taste.

Last of all, we were invited into the humble residence of the aged valet, who was for many years in the service of Voltaire, and has a little cabinet of curiosities, given him at sundry times by his old master, and preserved with religious care. Among the rest are the morning cap and walnut cane of the philosopher. Also the seals of all his correspondents, pasted in rows on the leaves of an album, with the characters of some of them briefly expressed beneath-such as, a dunce in Lyons," "a fool at Paris," "a German coxcomb." He was in correspondence with nearly all the great men of the age.

The gallery of the servant clearly surpasses that of his master. We recognised the portrait of Madame Duchesnois; though it is quite too pretty for her coarse, ugly, yet expressive face. The most amusing article in this collection is a print, representing a comic scene, in which Voltaire appears in the attitude of introducing a guest, at one of his dinner parties, and saying to the company, "Gentlemen, this is Mr. Adam-though not the first man in the world." Even the waiters seem to relish the joke, and are smothering their laughter, like Diggory and his associates, at the stories of Mr. Hardcastle.

On the following morning, we set out on another excursion up the northern shore of the lake, making a pilgrimage to the tombs of Necker and his daughter, Madame de Staël, at the village of Copet. It was ascertained on inquiry, that their tombs were in a garden, in front of the house. Admittance was sought in vain. With Corinne in our hands, we begged permission to look but for a moment at the tomb of its authoress. Two special messages were sent to the house; but the Cerberus, who holds the keys of the garden, was inexorable. Word came back, that not even the most intimate friends of the family are allowed to look at the sepulchre.

Repulsed in this object, we continued our excursion to Nyon, a pretty village on the shore of the lake, a few miles above. It has a large old castle, in the French style, occupying an eminence, and rearing aloft four Gothic towers upon its corners. At 10 o'clock, one of the half dozen steamboats, plying upon the lake, took us to Vevay. Mr. Church

has wrought the same wonders here, as upon the waters of France and Italy; and the improvements, which he has introduced, have greatly facilitated the commercial and social intercourse between the different cantons and towns, border

ing upon the lake. His boats though not large, are fleet and

fitted up with much neatness and comfort.

The deck and cabins were filled with passengers of both sexes, who would be taken for French, from their language, dress, manners, and customs. In the habits of the ladies, one striking peculiarity was observed, which formed a strong contrast to the indolence of the country, that we had just left. Every female on board was employed in knitting or sewing. Even the cabin-maid, who provided us an excellent dinner, sat down by the table, and was engaged with her needle, in the little intervals, when her menial services were not re=quired.

Its

Late in the afternoon we made the harbour of Vevay, which is small, but neat and much frequented. The town stands low, and does not appear well from the water. size, business, bustle, and the aspect of its streets, much exceeded my expectations. It has an active population of 4000; and next to Geneva and Lausanne, is the most important town on the lake. Merchandise is tastefully displayed at the shop-windows, and a semblance of fashion prevails where only rusticity was anticipated. It has a spacious public square, and a market supported by Doric columns, finished in good taste. The buildings are generally new in appearance, and exhibit many specimens of handsome architecture. A remarkable degree of neatness was observed in the dresses of the inhabitants, and no squalid images of poverty here offend the eye of the traveller.

We found excellent accommodations for the night at Vevay, and early on the following morning, we set out for Clarens and Chillon, at the head of the lake. It was a delightful excursion; for the day was as mild as summer, and the mountains, woods, and waters as bright as elysium. This shore, sheltered from the northern winds by a high ridge of hills, and enjoying a southern exposure, is said to possess a delicious climate for the greater part of the year. I could not perceive but the air was here as soft and balmy, as in the vales of Italy itself. Roses and other flowers were seen in bloom, while the peaks above were shrouded in snow. The road from Vevay to Clarens leads through a succes

sion of vineyards, cultivated in the French mode, and exhíbiting an infinite number of poles, forty or fifty feet in height, erected to break the violence of hail-storms and to shield the vines. It is a most unpoetical species of imagery. The shore of the lake towards its head is indented with rugged promontories and deep bays. Upon one of the latter, stands the hamlet of Clarens, consisting of some thirty or forty houses, hidden under the rocks, and looking out upon one of the most romantic regions imaginable. Behind it rise steeps hung with woods, intermingled with ranges of naked crags. We climbed an eminence to look at an old chateau, erected in the 15th century, and to search for the localities, consecrated by the genius of Rousseau. The former was not worth examination, except as a conspicuous object in the landscape; and not a vestige of the latter is to be found. A peasant at work in a garden pointed out the site of Julia's Bosquet, which was demolished by the monks of St. Bernard, and the ground appropriated to the cultivation of the vine. As the produce went to cheer the traveller amidst the snows of the Alps, the fraternity are pardonable for disregarding the minor considerations of taste and sentiment.

The information furnished by the aged Swiss agreed precisely with a minute description in a note to the Third Canto of Childe Harold, which the old man could never have read ; and the concurrent testimony of the two authorities was therefore as satisfactory, as either the nature or importance of the subject required. On the brow of the hill is a small buryingground, where the forefathers of the hamlet repose. A grave was opened, and the bier stood at its side. The decrepid and toil-worn peasant appeared as if he were ready to drop in, and be at rest. He told us that thirty or forty of his neighbours had emigrated to Vevay, on the banks of the Ohio, and that he had frequently read letters from them, descriptive of the country and of their own prospects. He shook his head at the idea, that the wine of the new world will ever equal the produce of the Pays de Vaud.

Our excursion was continued to the old Castle of Chillon, which was built by the Dukes of Savoy, in the 13th century. Commanding the pass of the mountains from the Valais to the Vaud, it has often been the scene of war, as well as the prison for state criminals. It rises out of the water, under a high and romantic cliff, thickly mantled with ivy. It formerly stood upon an island; but the moat has been choaked up,

though a draw-bridge and an iron gate still lead to its portals. The enormous structure is a mixture of stone, stucco, and wooden galleries, crowned with half a dozen rude Gothic towers. A female, who resides in one corner of the fortress, led us into the gloomy dungeons, which are nearly on a level with the water of the lake, and which are guarded from its irruptions by a massive wall. Narrow grated windows admit a dim light. The roof is supported by columns, springing out of the native rock. An iron ring is attached to each of the pillars, to which the prisoners were chained. The names of many visitants are inscribed upon the rocks; and among the rest, is that of Lord Byron. To indulge the propensities of scribblers, a sort of black-board has been placed against one of the columns, as a tablet, with a printed historical sketch of the castle pasted upon its top.

We climbed to the battlements, and had a wide view of the lake, the mouth of the Rhone, and the mountains rising on either hand. An islet, but just large enough to contain a fisherman's hut and a tuft of trees, emerges from the waves, between Chillon and the opposite shore. The wooden galleries of the Castle are shattered and seem ready to drop by their own weight. A small garrison is still kept up in the fortress, and the gate bears the arms of the Canton of Vaud "Liberté et Patrie."

Having thus made the circuit of the lake, we returned to Vevay, and rode thence to Lausanne, a distance of ten or twelve miles by land. The route is extremely hilly, leading through a series of small villages, comprising what is denominated the Vinoble of the Vaud, or artificial vineyards, hanging in terraces from the rocks, which rise from the water's edge to the heights above, Originally the whole district was little else than declivities, composed of naked crags, which Swiss industry has converted into a continuous garden. The soil has actually been created, not upon the locality itself; for it was brought from another kingdom-from Savoy, in boats across the lake--and deposited in the cradles, which had been hewn from the cliffs. Such was the expense of the work, and so productive has it been rendered, that the vineyards will now sell for three thousand dollars the acre! Immense quantities of wine are here made. We ate of the grapes, which are delicious, possessing a much higher flavour than those which ripen in the shady bowers of Italy. The peasantry were in the very midst of the vintage, and seemed