“Where the thickly-spreading branches of the elm trees present the slightest opening, the spectator enjoys one of the most beautiful views that can be imagined.  In the distance, that giant of the hills—­Mont Blanc, crowned with its eternal snows, rises majestically.  At the base of the mountain the eye is gratified with the sight of variegated plains, smiling with verdure, and cultivated with the most industrious care.  The Rhone with its silver stream floats through the beautiful country that surrounds Geneva, which may be said to describe an amphitheatre just above the lake.

“A spacious park, not far from the chateau, usually formed the termination of Voltaire’s rambles:  in its cool shades he delighted to indulge his poetic meditations.  To this place he was in the habit of driving daily in a little open caleche, drawn by a favourite black mare.  The space which separates the park from the chateau, and which forms a gentle acclivity, is planted with vines.”

* * * * *

THE GATHERER.

  “A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.” 
      SHAKSPEARE.

* * * * *

A WELSH RABBIT.

Colonel A——­ baiting for the first time in his life at a Welsh inn, thought he would order for his dinner, a dish which must be perfection in its own country:  viz. a Welsh rabbit.  The dinner hour arrived, and the colonel lifting up the cover of the dish next him, exclaimed in angry astonishment to the waiter, upon beholding a large, dry-looking, fleshy animal before him.  “What the d——­l d’ye call this, a Welsh rabbit?” “Why, noo, noo, Sir!” replied the man, perfectly cool, and unconscious of the error, “Noo, it certainly an’t exactly a Welsh rabbit, but ’tis a Monmouthshire one!”

J.R.

* * * * *

ODD MEAL.

The celebrated David Hartley entertained, at his apartments in Merton College, of which he was fellow, a party of his friends; they all dined well, comme de raison; and there was every likelihood that the evening would conclude with the utmost festivity, when a letter was brought to the naturalist; after due apology, he opened and read it; then starting up, he rushed out of the room.  He soon returned, with horror on his face and a basketful of feathers in his hand; “Gentlemen, what do you think we have been eating?” Some of the guests began to fear they had been poisoned; even the boldest felt qualms.  “Oh! that the letter had but arrived before the bird!” Then holding up some of the feathers, and letting them fall into the basket to display them to the company, he relieved their apprehensions, while he revealed the cause of his own grief, “we have eaten a nondescript.”  Though no blame could attach to him, there was something in all appearance so disreputable in the untoward accident by which, under his auspices, a scientific object had been treated in so vulgar a manner, that Hartley did not quickly recover from the mortification.