a weight upon "my amazed sprite,"
and the feeling of its immense extent fatigued my imagination till my
spirits gave way in tears. Then came remembrances of those I ought to
forget, blending with all I saw a deeper power--raising up emotions,
long buried though not dead, to fright me with their resurrection. I
was so glad to arrive here, and shall be _so_ glad to sleep--even the
dull sleep which laudanum brings me.

_Oct. 1._--When next I submit (having the power to avoid it) to be
crammed into a carriage and carried from place to place, whether I
would or not, and be set down at the stated _points de vue_, while a
detestable laquais points out what I am to admire, I shall deserve to
endure again what I endured to-day. As there was no possibility of
relief, I resigned myself to my fate, and was even amused by the
absurdity of my own situation. We went to see the junction of the
Arve and the Rhone: or rather to see the Arve pollute the rich, blue
transparent Rhone, with its turbid waters. The day was heavy, and the
clouds rolled in prodigious masses along the dark sides of the
mountains, frequently hiding them from our view, and substituting for
their graceful outlines and ever-varying contrast of tint and shade,
an impenetrable veil of dark gray vapour.

_3rd._--We took a boat and rowed on the lake for about two hours. Our
boatman, a fine handsome athletic figure, was very talkative and
intelligent. He had been in the service of Lord Byron, and was with
him in that storm between La Meillerie and St. Gingough, which is
described in the third canto of Childe Harold. He pointed out among
the beautiful villas, which adorn the banks on either side, that in
which the empress Josephine had resided for six months, not long
before her death. When he spoke of her, he rested upon his oars to
descant upon her virtues, her generosity, her affability, her goodness
to the poor, and his countenance became quite animated with
enthusiasm. Here, in France, wherever the name of Josephine is
mentioned, there seems to exist but one feeling, one opinion of her
beneficence and _amabilite_ of character. Our boatman had also rowed
Marie Louise across the lake, on her way to Paris: he gave us no very
captivating picture of her. He described her as "_grande, blonde, bien
faite et extremement fiere_:" and told us how she tormented her ladies
in waiting; "_comme elle tracassait ses dames d'honneur_." The day
being rainy and gloomy, her attendants