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approached my native town. I discovered more distinctly the black
sides of Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blanc. I wept like a
child. "Dear mountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome your
wanderer? Your summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and
placid. Is this to prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?"

I fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling on
these preliminary circumstances; but they were days of comparative
happiness, and I think of them with pleasure. My country, my beloved
country! who but a native can tell the delight I took in again
beholding thy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovely
lake!

Yet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me. Night
also closed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, I
felt still more gloomily. The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of
evil, and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most
wretched of human beings. Alas! I prophesied truly, and failed only
in one single circumstance, that in all the misery I imagined and
dreaded, I did not conceive the hundredth part of the anguish I was
destined to endure. It was completely dark when I arrived in the
environs of Geneva; the gates of the town were already shut; and I was
obliged to pass the night at Secheron, a village at the distance of
half a league from the city. The sky was serene; and, as I was unable
to rest, I resolved to visit the spot where my poor William had been
murdered. As I could not pass through the town, I was obliged to cross
the lake in a boat to arrive at Plainpalais. During this short voyage
I saw the lightning playing on the summit of Mont Blanc in the most
beautiful figures. The storm appeared to approach rapidly, and, on
landing, I ascended a low hill, that I might observe its progress. It
advanced; the heavens were clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming
slowly in large drops, but its violence quickly increased.

I quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and storm
increased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crash
over my head. It was echoed from Saleve, the Juras, and the Alps of
Savoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating the
lake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instant
every thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itself
from the preceding flash. The storm, as is often the case in
Switzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens. The
most violent storm hung exactly north of the town, over the part of the
lake which lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village of
Copet. Another storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and another
darkened and sometimes disclosed the Mole, a peaked mountain to the
east of the lake.

While I watched the tempest, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on

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