We reached Dole about the French hour of dinner:  here our company separated, and, accompanied by a friend, I continued my journey to Geneva.  The road which we took is only practicable during four or five months in the year, on account of the snow which is drifted from the mountains of Jura.  Near Auxonne we passed a plain, where a battle had been fought between the French and the Allied forces.  Many houses had been destroyed, but the agriculture of the country did not seem to have suffered by the contest.  We passed through the village of Genlis, and within sight of the Chateau, the property of the lady of that name, well known by her numerous writings and compilations.

We arrived late at Poligny, a small town, surrounded by lofty mountains.  On leaving the place, one hill occupies three hours in ascending; but the road is as good as the uneven surface of the country will permit.  The people here begin to have quite a different appearance from the French:  wooden shoes are generally worn; and the projecting roofs of the houses shew that the climate is more rainy and severe than in the countries we had passed.  In this vicinity are some of the finest forests I had yet seen in France, and the views from the road are occasionally interesting.  About two leagues from Poligny is Arbois, famous for its white wine.  We had a bottle by way of experiment, and thought it not undeserving of the reputation it had acquired.  A Frenchman observed, “Le vin nest pas mauvais,” which phrase may be taken for a commendation, as they seldom carry their praise so far as to say a thing is positively good.  The country between Poligny and Moray exhibits a continued succession of fir-trees, unmixed with any thing to give variety to the scene.  The woods, however, seemed to afford shelter to but few birds; and in most parts of the continent, even the singing-birds are not spared, but included in the general proscription to gratify the palate of the epicure.

We arrived to an English breakfast at Moray; they told us its honey was in great repute throughout France, and we thought it deserved more than the ordinary commendation of a Frenchman.  Every thing here was neat and clean, and both the town and appearance of its inhabitants brought North Wales strongly to my recollection.  This being a frontier place, the French custom-house officers put seals on our portmanteaus, for which favour we paid two francs for each seal; these were cut off with great formality on our arrival at Geneva.  After having travelled for many hours amongst a succession of gloomy mountains, which afford nothing that can either interest or enliven, I never recollect feeling a greater sensation of delight and astonishment, than when, from the summit of one of the mountains of Jura, I first beheld the lake and city of Geneva, backed by the mountains of Savoy, and by the Alps, which, even at this vast distance, made all the other mountains we had passed appear but trivial.