between our souls and the sublime and beautiful in nature, which even a glance awakens. We gaze on such scenes with a pleasure, that the finest work of art never conveyed; we feel reluctant to leave them; and often recur to them in memory, with a regret like that which we give to a friend we may never again behold.

LUCERNE, 4th.-From Schaufhausen back through Zurich, to Lucerne, a lovely, but confused mass of woods, mountains, lakes, and vineyards, with cottages, of the most picturesque forms, present themselves, like the varying images in dreams; and like them, leaving but indistinct though pleasant recollections in the mind. I must except some magnificent forests of pine and oak, which stand forth so pre-eminently in the scenery, as to form distinct features in it; and the pretty village of Egliseau, with its bridge, which commands a varied and beautiful prospect.

Lucerne, rising from its lovely lake, as if at the command of a magician, surrounded by its fortifications of the seventeenth century, which look insignificant compared with those natural ones, formed

by the Almighty hand, some of which rise as if to join the clouds that float over them, constitutes one of the most interesting views I have yet seen. On the right and left are the Righi and Pilate mountains; the first, covered with verdure and hamlets, and the second, sterile and arid, with only a few stunted tufts of brown and withered vegetation, scattered over its naked and gloomy surface.

The town is peculiarly clean, and the picturesque costumes of the female inhabitants add much to the beauty of the general effect.

5th.-The Fountain of the Lion, which we visited to-day, is a simple but sublime monument, erected by the Swiss to the memory of their countrymen, who fell on the memorable 10th of August, in defence of a monarchy, whose subversion their devoted bravery could not retard. It represents a lion of colossal dimensions, cut out of a solid rock, and admirably executed. The lion is pierced by a lance, the point of which rests in the wound, and in expiring covers with his body a shield, decorated with fleurs-de-lys. The inscription is, Helvetiorum fidei ac virtuti. The names of the officers and soldiers

who lost their lives, the first, twenty-six in number, and the second, seven hundred and sixty are inscribed.

This monument, with the limpid lake, which bathes the rock of which it is formed, and the bright verdure surrounding it, presents a most striking picture. Its guardian dwelt with no little self-complacency on the bravery and fidelity of his countrymen, and more than insinuated the wisdom, if not the necessity, of Louis the Eighteenth retaining a few regiments of them always near his person, in case of "accidents," as he quaintly expressed himself; "for he, like his good, but unfortunate brother, may yet require their aid, in a nation so fickle in its attachments, as the one where he reigns."

SECHERON, 8th.-We are again at Geneva, which has as yet lost none of its beauty, although the autumn has tinged the foliage all around with its golden tints, and given a coldness to t' air, that renders warm shawls a necessary accompaniment in all excursions. We went on the lake to-day, and were rowed by Maurice, the boatman employed by Lord Byron, during his residence here. Maurice

speaks of the noble poet with enthusiasm, and loves to relate anecdotes of him. He told us, that Lord Byron never entered his boat without a case of pistols, which he always kept by him; a very superfluous ceremony, as Maurice seemed to think. He represented him as generally silent and abstracted, passing whole hours on the lake absorbed in reflection, and then suddenly writing, with extreme rapidity, in a book he always had with him. He described his countenance, to use his own phrase, as "magnifique," and different from that of all other men, by its pride (fierté was the word he used.) "He looked up at the heavens," said Maurice, "as if he thought it was his proper place, or rather, as if he accused it of keeping him here; for he is a man who fears nothing, above or below. He passed whole nights on the lake, always selecting the most boisterous weather for such expeditions. I never saw a rough evening set in, while his lordship was at Diodati, continued Maurice, "without being sure that he would send for me; and the higher the wind, and the more agitated the lake, the more he enjoyed it. We have often remained out eighteen hours at a time, and in very bad weather.-Lord Byron

He

is so good a swimmer, that he has little to dread from the water.-Poor Mr. Shelley," resumed Maurice, "ah! we were all sorry for him!—He was a different sort of man; so gentle, so affectionate, so generous; he looked as if he loved the sky over his head, and the water on which his boat floated. would not hurt a fly, nay, he would save everything that had life; so tender and merciful was his nature. He was too good for this world; and yet, lady, would you believe it, some of his countrymen, whom I have rowed in this very boat, have tried to make me think ill of him; but they never could succeed, for we plain people judge by what we see, and not by what we hear." This was, in language somewhat different, the sentiment of our boatman's account of Byron and Shelley, two of the most remarkable spirits of our age. He seemed to admire the first,

but it is evident he loved the second. How intellectual must the intercourse of two such minds have been; and how advantageous to Byron must have been the philanthrophy, and total freedom from bitterness of Shelley. Even the unworldliness of Shelley's mind must have possessed an additional charm in soothing the irritability of Byron's too sensitive and misan