ious tourists, and what can I add thereto?

_Geneva, Saturday Night, 11 o'clock._--Can it be the "blue rushing of
the arrowy Rhone" I hear from my window? Shall I hear it to-morrow,
when I wake? Have I seen, have I felt the reality of what I have so
often imagined? and much, _much_ more? How little do I feel the
contretemps and privations which affect others--and feel them _only_
because they affect others! To me they are nothing: I have in a few
hours stored my mind with images of beauty and grandeur which will
last through my whole existence.

* * * * *

Yet I know I am not singular; others have felt the same: others, who,
capable of "drinking in the soul of things," have viewed nature less
with their eyes than their hearts. Now I feel the value of my own
enthusiasm; now am I repaid in part for many pains and sorrows and
errors it has cost me. Though the natural expression of that
enthusiasm be now repressed and restrained, and my spirits subdued by
long illness, what but enthusiasm could elevate my mind to a level
with the sublime objects round me, and excite me to pour out my whole
heart in admiration as I do now! How deeply they have penetrated into
my imagination!--Beautiful nature! If I could but infuse into you a
portion of my own existence as you have become a part of mine--If I
could but bid you reflect back my soul, as it reflects back all your
magnificence, I would make you my only friend, and wish no other;
content "to love earth only for its earthly sake."

I am so tired to-night, I can say nothing of the Jura, nor of the
superb ascent of the mountain, to me so novel, so astonishing a scene;
nor of the cheerful brilliance of the morning sun, illuminating the
high cliffs, and throwing the deep woody vallies into the darkest
shadow; nor of the far distant plains of France seen between the hills,
and melting away into a soft vapoury light; nor of Morey, and its
delicious strawberries and honey-comb; nor of that never-to-be-forgotten
moment, when turning the corner of the road, as it wound round a cliff
near the summit, we beheld the lake and city of Geneva spread at our
feet, with its magnificent back-ground of the Italian Alps, peak beyond
peak, snow-crowned! and Mont Blanc towering over all! No description
had prepared me for this prospect; and the first impression was
rapturous surprise; but by degrees the vastness and the huge gigantic
features of the scene pressed like