We passed through Carouge, which has become a town, and has nothing picturesque; but houses with green shutters and verandas, and neat gardens, like an English watering-place. Entering Geneva by the Porte Neuve, we rode before its strong fortifications, now perfectly repaired, (in consequence of the threats of France last year, when Switzerland sheltered Louis Bonaparte,) and the ramparts, which form beautiful and shady promenades. Near the Porte Neuve is the botanic garden, terribly celebrated; as the spot that it occupied was that where in 1794 took place the fusillades and executions which decimated the respectable citizens of Geneva under the direction of a member of the Comité du Salut Public, from Paris. We crossed the Rhone, which is here so deep and bright a blue, that I at first looked to see whether any dyeing establishment were near, and then smiled at my folly in supposing it could act on the rapid river for a further space than a few feet. As we took the steep streets pointed out to us as the shortest way to the Porte de Cornavin, and the road to Lausanne, our first impression of Geneva was less favourable than it would have been choosing the longer and better way by the quays and new bridge, which affords a view of the lake. The hôtel du Secheron is about a quarter of a mile from the gate on the Lausanne road. The heat when we arrived was already excessive, though it was hardly nine o'clock, and we felt the luxuries of its quiet and cleanliness. These windows command a splendid view of the lake, framed by the fine trees of the park which stretches down to its shore, of the mild green hill on the other side, dotted by villas, among which is Lord Byron's; and the mountains of the Salève, near Geneva;--those of the Voiron, and the blue pointed Mole farther away; and between them, and though far beyond, seeming to stand forth before in its brightness and purity, Mont Blanc. The Secheron is a better inn than any I have met with even in England, and, notwithstanding its expensive reputation, is more reasonable, as well as more comfortable, than the Bergues, according to the account of an acquaintance we met in Geneva. I do not comprehend how any stranger can prefer the stifling streets and their noise to the shade and quiet here, particularly as we find every facility for making excursions. Monsieur Dejean supplies the town with carriages, and keeps thirty horses in his stables, and the hôtel having its own boat and boatmen, we are landed on the quay in five minutes.