k me as greatly to be desired.
With all her simplicity she had the true Wisdom: and her good motherly
face went with me long after I left Erwald in Chamouni.

A few miles from Geneva, we entered Savoy. Here the scenery of the
Alps began to open before us. On the right the Arve was seen winding
through a cultivated and luxuriant valley; on both sides, hills and
rooks rose to a considerable elevation, and behind, the mountains of
the Jura range closed in grandeur the delightful view. We passed
through a succession of peaceful villages, and at length reached by a
long avenue of elms the little town of Bonneville on the Arve. The
town is embosomed in the mountains, and watered by the river. It
has a fine old bridge over the river from which the country is viewed
to great, advantage. On the right the mole is elegantly formed, and
terminates in a peak, a complete contrast to Mont Brezon on the left,
wild and savage in its aspect, and little more than a bare and rugged
rock with occasional pitches of verdure.

[Illustration]

From Bonneville the road passes over the bridge to the foot of the
mole, and traverses a lovely valley, hemmed in by lofty mountains, and
rich in scenes of pastoral beauty. The road is lined on each side with
walnut-trees, which afford a grateful shade. Passing the village of
Sigony, Erwald pointed to the remains of an old convent far up the
mountain, whose inmates were wont to welcome the traveller, when these
valleys, destitute of good roads and inns, were explored with
difficulty and with danger.

From this place the mountains closed upon us; rocks began to overhang
the road, and the Arve was rather heard than seen. At length we
crossed a romantic looking bridge and entered the little town of
Cluse, enclosed on both sides by rocky ramparts, and sheltered equally
from sunbeams and from storms. Following the various windings of the
valley, the Arve seemed to spread itself into a series of lakes, each
presenting its own peculiar loveliness and majesty. The sides of the
mountains were occasionally bare and rugged, but for the most part
they were clothed with forests of fir; while above, pointed summits
and fantastic crags everywhere met the eye, and filled the beholder
with admiration and awe.

A few miles up the valley, Erwald called our attention to the entrance
of the cavern of Balme. It is a natural gallery in the rock and well
worth a visit. The valley now becomes more spacious; while its
bound