sometimes high above the foot of the
valley, and sometimes by the river's bank. It is towards the end of
January, and snow has been falling for several days on end. All the
country is quite white, and the small villages in the valley are almost
hidden.

Now we come to three lakes in a row, the Lake of Bienne, the Lake of
Neuchatel, and the great Lake of Geneva, which we reach at the town of
Lausanne. Here the snow has ceased to fall, and the beautiful Alps of
Savoy are visible to the south. The sun is hidden behind clouds, but its
rays are reflected by the clear mirror of the lake. This view is one of
the finest in the world, and our eyes are glued to the carriage window
as the train follows the shore of Geneva.

In outline the lake is like a dolphin just about to dive. At the
dolphin's snout lies Geneva, and here the river Rhone flows out of the
lake to run to Lyons and debouch into the Mediterranean immediately to
the west of the great port of Marseilles.

Geneva is one of the finest, cleanest, and most charming towns in the
world. Between its northern and southern halves the water of the lake,
deep blue and clear as crystal, is drawn off into the Rhone as into a
funnel. There the current is strong, and the river is divided into two
by a long island.

The finest sight, however, is the view south-eastwards when the weather
is clear. There stand the mighty summits and crests of the Alps of
Savoy, now covered with snow, and glittering in white, light blue, and
steely grey tints. There also Mont Blanc is enthroned above the other
mountains, nay, above all Europe, awesome and grand, the crown of the
Alps, the frontier pillar between Switzerland, France, and Italy.

From Geneva we go eastwards along the northern shore of the lake. The
air is hazy, and the Alps of Savoy look like a light veil beneath the
sun. In this light the water is of a bright green like malachite. Beyond
Lausanne the mist disappears, and the Alps again appear dazzling white
and steep as pyramids and towers. Towns, villages, and villas cast
reflections of their white or coloured house-fronts and their light
balconies on the lake. The shore is lined by a row of hotels surrounded
by gardens and promenades. Travellers come hither from all countries in
summer to feast their eyes on the Alps and strengthen their lungs by
inhaling the fresh air.

We leave the lake and mount gently up the Rhone valley between wild
rocks. It becomes narrower as we ascend