One would be tempted, if space permitted, to say something of the later literary luminaries of Geneva: of Amiel, the ‘virtuous Don Juan,’ as his friends called him, who, after living rather a futile life, acquired posthumous fame through his ‘Journal’; of Cherbuliez, the novelist, once very popular, though now somewhat out of fashion; of Marc Monnier, the sparkling and versatile father of Dr. Philippe Monnier who has inherited his wit; of Toepfer, author of ‘Nouvelles Genevoises,’ described by one critic as ‘a sort of Swiss Ally Sloper,’ and by another as ‘a sort of Swiss Max O’Rell, with just a dash of Mr. Barlow’; of Emile Javelle, who climbed the Alps diligently and wrote of them poetically; of MM. EugÈne Ritter and Albert de Montet, the pillars of historical research in French Switzerland. But space does not permit. What little space remains is claimed by certain distinguished strangers who have shed lustre upon Geneva by living in the neighbourhood. We must visit Voltaire at Ferney, and Madame de StaËl at Coppet. Let the patriarch come first.