changes its color and brightness. The Rhone does not become the Arve, but the Arve becomes the Rhone. The Rhone is the more powerful nature; besides which, he has passed through a purifying bath,—a new baptism. He is calm and clear. Thus he hastens on to meet the new destiny on the soil of France, and receives into his bosom the Leuth, the Saone, and the wild Durance, fertilizing vineyards along the French Rhone-valley, to Avignon, where he abruptly turns south, hastens on to the Mediterranean, and
Speeds on, without tarriance, till he casteth
Himself into his father's breast, and dies.[1]
March 24th.—A glorious day, after some clouds. Read, amongst other books, Père Girard's excellent “Methode Maternelle,” and in the afternoon took a long ramble in the direction of Mont Salève and the highlands on the Arve. The whole of this side, between Geneva and Mont Salève—the boundary between Switzerland and Savoy—is cultivated like a garden, full of beautiful plantations, country-villas, and small farms. The air was warm, the sky deep blue, the larks sang, and many little flowers were out upon the verdant meadow-turf. Yellow auriculas are here common brookside flowers. Arve roared loudly, and numbers of little becks hastened along, singing, to increase his waters. It seemed to me that the earth was indeed beautiful!
And the hero of the scene—hast thou, my R——,
- ↑ The River, by Tègner.
