Lausanne And Geneva.

Dear Charley:—

We are staying in one of the most romantic and beautiful spots that I ever had the pleasure to visit. The population is seventeen thousand, and on the increase. It is the favorite resort of the English; and no wonder, for here are displays of the glory and of the power of the Creator rarely to be seen. The town stands on a mount, and descends gradually to the lake. On every side are most precipitous ravines; and the streets are the most break-neck-looking highways I ever saw. Putnam's Leap would be thought nothing of at Lausanne.

Our hotel overlooks Gibbon's garden, and we saw his trees and seat. Here he composed his eloquent work on the Roman empire. His portrait is in the hotel dining-room. The prospect surpasses in richness all that I had fancied. Before us lie the Alps, with snowy tops; between us and these is the glassy lake, and on its waters we notice a regatta, the boats all adorned with flags and the crews with ribbons. There are, I should think, from fifty to seventy-five boats in sight. Up in the Alps there is a fire in the woods; and the volume of smoke and flashing of flame form a fine addition to the scene.

The temperature of the climate is very favorable to health; and now, in June, it reminds us of our finest clear days at Newport.

On Sabbath morning we repaired to a charming little Episcopal church, near the lake; and the walk of a mile down hill was delightful. On both sides of the road were fine villas, and on the left one estate had its long wall defended by a hedge of roses in full bloom; such a hedge is rarely to be witnessed. We heard a prosy sermon from the old gentleman who has officiated there for some years. I noticed a lady and four sweet little girls who sat in the next pew to us, and was convinced that she was an English lady; and when we overtook her ascending the hill, on our return, I took the liberty to ask a question about the church. She very politely gave me the information, and a conversation commenced. She told me, as a stranger, what I ought to see; and when we were leaving her, she politely offered us an invitation to join her family in the evening, to take a walk to the mountain overhanging Lausanne, known as the Signal, and from whence, in olden time, the watch-fire used to be kindled when the cantons were called to arm for liberty, or danger was expected. This kindness we accepted; and when she gave me her address, I found I had to call at the Hotel de Ville. Well, at half past six, the lads and I repaired to the mansion, a very venerable pile, and we found that our kind friend was no less a personage than the wife of the syndic, or mayor of the city. We were most kindly received and introduced to his honor—a fine-looking, elderly gentleman, who spoke no English; but his family conversed generally in our language. We sallied forth, and took a walk up, up, up,—never will the boys forget that tramp; indeed, Charley, it was the hardest affair I ever went through; but after the ascent was achieved, the recompense was ample. Such a survey of lake, shore, Alps, city, villages, vineyards, cannot be enjoyed elsewhere. It was very cold in these upper regions; and as we descended, the shades of night were over us, and a beautiful moon made its appearance. When parting from our friends, they urged our joining them at seven o'clock to visit the Cathedral, with the mayor as our guide. I accepted the polite offer, but the boys were frightened at the thought of another ascent; for the minster is perched upon a cliff, and you ascend some hundreds of steps to reach the platform.

At seven we were on hand, and with the syndic and his sweet little girl we visited the finest Gothic pile in Switzerland, which was built in 1275, and consecrated by Gregory X. The form is that of the Latin cross. Formerly it had two towers; but one was destroyed by lightning, in 1825. Here are several fine monuments and tombs of interest; one an effigy in mail armor of Otho of Grandeson, and another of Pope Felix V., who resigned the papacy and became a monk, and a very beautiful one to the wife of Stratford Canning; the figures of which are eight in number, and two of them are by Canova; also the tomb of Bernard de Menthon, founder of the St. Bernard Hospice.

We returned to the Hotel de Ville and took breakfast with Madame Gadaud, for whom and her kind family we shall long cherish grateful recollections.

From Lausanne we took boat for Vevay. The port of Lausanne is the little village of Ouchy. I ought to tell you that John Philip Kemble, the great tragedian, is buried two miles from this place. We found the excursion on the lake very agreeable, and passed many pretty villages on the left shore till we came to Vevay, a sweet little town, of five thousand inhabitants, and is embowered in vineyards. It is about one mile and a quarter from the foot of the Alps. Here we had a view of the Castle of Chillon, and Byron was on our tongues at once. My great object in coming here was to see St Martin's Church, for here are buried Ludlow, the regicide, and Broughton, who read the sentence of Charles I. Charles II. could never get the Swiss to deliver these patriots into his hands. In the afternoon we took another boat and went to Geneva in about five hours, and stopped at Ouchy, Morges, Rolle, Nyon, and Coppet. At Morges is a fine old castle, in good condition. Nearly opposite Rolle we saw the hoary head of Mont Blanc, towering above the giant brotherhood of Alpine heights. We did not see Lake Leman in a storm, and though certainly beautiful in its adjuncts, not more so than Lake Erie. At Coppet was the residence of Madame De StaËl.

We reached Geneva in the evening at seven, and went to the Hotel L'Eou. Here we were delighted to meet again with the Rev. Dr. Murray and Dr. Chetwood, and also to find the Rev. Mr. Chickering and Rev. Mr. Jacobus, with his family, and other valued friends.

The approach to Geneva from the lake is very imposing; but I was less pleased with the town itself than I expected to be. Its position is very grand. Its history is every thing, however. The Cathedral Church of St. Peter is a fine specimen of the Gothic of the eleventh century. The sounding board is the same under which Calvin preached.

The population is about forty thousand, including the suburbs, and thousands of tourists are every year residents for a few days. We had a pleasant morning at the Museum, where are some good pictures and many curiosities. In the library are Calvin's letters in MS., forty or fifty volumes of MS. sermons, &c. This same Calvin and this old town of Geneva have had much to do with our own blessed country; and we feel the agency of this man and this town in all our ten thousand joys and comforts.

I could not forget that here was the home of Merle D'AubignÉ, the historian of the Protestant reformation, and that here, too, is the residence of the learned Gaussen, the author of Theopneusty, and of the venerable CÆsar Malan. Calling upon this last-named gentleman, I was delighted to find that the Evangelical Association of Geneva was in annual session. This is the great Protestant body with which the American Evangelical Union is in alliance, and for whose operations our friend Dr. Baird has awakened so lively an interest. I went to the church where the meeting was convened, and was introduced to Count George, a very pious Frenchman of fortune, who resides here and devotes himself to the cause of the Protestant religion. He is a Baptist, but is connected with the church which embraces several evangelical denominations. The count presided with great ability; he is a very elegant man, about thirty-four, I should imagine.

I had the pleasure to hear D'AubignÉ give a report of his visit to Great Britain. He spoke for two hours. He is quite the orator, and had entire command of the audience, who wept and laughed as he proceeded. The historian is a very noticeable man, and strongly reminded us all of President Wayland, to whom his resemblance is very striking.

Dr. Murray made a few remarks on behalf of his brethren, and we were all invited to a soirÉe at the assembly-rooms in the evening. Perhaps two hundred and fifty ladies and gentlemen were present. Several addresses and prayers were made. I was announced for an address, but came late on the list; and having no fancy to be translated by a man at my elbow, I quietly withdrew at the fitting time. I was much pleased with Professor Gaussen, who is a very accomplished gentleman. He looks about forty-five, but told me he was very much older.

The clergy present at this convocation were from various parts of France and all the Swiss cantons, and I never saw a finer set of men in any clerical assembly. Pastor Malan is exceedingly venerable in his appearance. He is about sixty-eight years of age, his hair gray, and worn long in the neck, with a good deal of curl to it. His gait is quick, and he has much the manner of the venerable Dr. Beecher. This patriarch of Geneva is very cheerful, knows every one, and has a word for every one. He told me that he loved Americans, but that they had spoiled his habitation by stealing two of his daughters, who, he explained to me, were married to excellent clergymen in the United States.

We met with great kindness in this city from Mr. Delorme, a gentleman who once resided in New York. He invited us to accompany his family on an excursion to the summit of the SalÈve, a mountain in Savoy, which is three thousand one hundred and fifty feet above the lake. We went in two carriages, and stopped at a village on the mountain side, where we had cakes, coffee, and wine. Here, in a sweet little arbor, surrounded with roses, we gazed at Mont Blanc, and on a near summit could very clearly trace the profile of Napoleon. He looks "like a warrior taking his sleep." The illusion surpasses in accuracy of expression any thing that I know of that is similar; there are chin, nose, eye, and the old cocked hat, while the eternal vapor over the summit of the peak forms the feather.

We looked down in a ravine and saw the Aar with its icy stream. The carriages went round to meet the party, and the ascent was made. The mountain seems to hang over Geneva, though several miles off. We were greatly pleased with a few good houses, in fine positions; but Savoy is not Switzerland. Here Popery is rampant and pauperism evident. Beggars beset our carriages, and the people looked squalid.

I forgot to tell you how much we were pleased with the cottages in Switzerland; they are quite cheerful looking,—some very fine affairs,—but many are not very unlike our western log-houses.

We returned to Geneva at about ten, and found at our friend's house a most sumptuous repast provided for our entertainment. I never sat down at a more elegant supper table. Every luxury seemed placed before us, including the richest wines of the Rhine.

The Roman salad, a peculiar kind of lettuce, which we saw in France, and here again, seemed to us all as quite different from our ordinary kinds; and I have at Genera obtained four or five varieties of the seed for home cultivation.

While at this city we procured some good specimens of wooden ware, Swiss cottages, &c., and the boys bought watches, jewelry, &c., for presents.

We were all delighted with a little island in the centre of a bridge which goes across the lake; it was a favorite retreat of Rousseau, and there is a statue to his memory.

Calvin's residence is still to be seen, No. 116 Rue des Chanoins. We saw the place where Servetus was burnt. The place and prospect were too beautiful for such a foul desecration. But Calvin's virtues were his own, and the faults he fell into belonged to the influence of the age. It was much so with those greatest and best of men, the New England Pilgrim Fathers. I know they had faults, but they were only spots upon the polished mirror. God reared them up, a rare race of men, for a rare purpose; and I do not like to hear them abused because they were not perfect. If Laud had come to Plymouth Rock instead of Brewster, Bonner instead of Carver, what kind of a community would have been established and handed down?

In Geneva, too, we had the pleasure to meet a valued friend, Mr. B., from Providence, who has been travelling extensively, and gathering up the treasures of other cities to enrich the one of his birth.

To-morrow we are off for Paris, and go by diligence to Dijon; thence by railroad.

Yours affectionately,

j.o.c.