f the lake and of Mont Blanc. It was a surprise
to Miss Edgeworth to find how much she was impressed with the beauty of
the scenery about her:--

I did not conceive it possible that I should feel so much pleasure
from the beauties of nature as I have done since I came to this
country. The first moment when I saw Mont Blanc will remain an era
in my life--a new idea, a new feeling, standing alone in the mind.

Geneva was at that time enjoying what has been termed its Augustan age.
An unusual number of distinguished persons resided there, and it was
besides largely resorted to by eminent men and women from all lands,
most of whom Miss Edgeworth met at the house of her host. Besides,
Monsieur Pictet and Monsieur Dumont, these old, faithful friends, were
also domiciled at Geneva, and strove to do the honors of the place.
Among temporary residents were such men and women as Dr. and Mrs.
Marcet, Arago, De Candolle, the botanist, Freiherr von Stein, Madame
Necker de Saussure, and Sismondi. They also met Bonstetten, the poet
Gray's youthful friend, then an old man, who spoke with enthusiasm of
Madame de Stael.

This mixture of persons from all parts of the world gave a piquancy to
the reunions that were held at Geneva. Sometimes the guests met in the
evening at a house in town, sometimes at breakfast in the different
country villas in all the freshness of the sweet Swiss morning,
sometimes by moonlight on lawns sloping down to the lake; when they
would sit under trees or stroll about, while tea and ices and the famous
varieties of Geneva cakes were handed round. It was at one of these
evening assemblies that Miss Edgeworth, while talking to De Candolle in
her most brilliant strain, attracted a crowd five deep.

Several short excursions into the lower Alpine regions were made from
Geneva by the sisters and their friends; but though Miss Edgeworth
enjoyed the beauties of nature beyond her expectations, she yet, as
before in her letters, mentions persons and matters of intellectual
interest more frequently than scenery. It was a keen gratification to
her that M. Dumont spoke well of the now published memoirs. She cared
more for this than for the many compliments that were paid to herself,
only a few of which she modestly records, and then only because she
knows they will please the dear ones at home. At Coppet the party
breakfasted with M. de Stael, who showed them all the rooms once
inhabited by his mother,