MISS B----, one of the American ladies at Monsieur W----'s, has resided four years in Italy. Among other anecdotes, of which she has an entertaining and extensive fund at command, she was telling us one, illustrating the reputation of our great republic with the common people of Europe. Near the Hotel de Secherons, on the banks of the lake, one mile from Geneva, she met a small boy at the gate of a cottage, and amused herself by a little talk with him. He seemed much surprised on learning the two facts, that she was an American lady, and that she boarded at the Secherons, 'where they paid more money for one dinner than he ever had in his life.' 'Did you ever hear of America?' 'Oh yes, father told me all about it. There was a famous Frenchman, Monsieur Lafayette, went there once, and conquered the country.' 'Indeed!' well, what did he do then?' 'Why, they wanted him to become king, but he wouldn't.' 'Why not?' 'Because,' said the boy, hesitating, lest he should give offence, '_because the Americans are so poor_!' And thus he marvelled that one of them should be rich enough to patronize the Hotel de Secherons. SUNDAY.--Attended the English Episcopal chapel, to hear the celebrated REV. J. W. CUNNINGHAM, author of the 'Velvet Cushion,' etc. He enjoined upon his audience, mostly English travellers or residents, to conduct themselves abroad as best became 'British Christians.' There are chapels of this kind for the English, in nearly all the large cities of Italy, and throughout Europe. * * * * * CHAMOUNI, (FOOT OF MONT BLANC,) AUGUST 23.--Those who describe Swiss scenery, with a feeling sense of its beauty and grandeur, are apt to incur the charge of coloring the picture under the influence of an inflated imagination; but I am sure of one thing, that no mere words ever did or could give me a correct and full impression of the scenes I have passed to-day, or of the one now before me. To say that I am in the valley of Chamouni, at the very base of the stupendous Mont Blanc and his gigantic neighbors, on a moonlight evening, is to say enough for your own imagination to fill up the picture. Well does Rogers remark of the distant view of the Alps from the Jura, where they are scarcely distinguishable from the vapors: 'Who first beholds those everlasting clouds, Seed-time and harvest, morning, noon and night, Still where they were, stedfast, immovable; Those mighty hills, so shadowy, so sublime, As rather to belong to heaven than earth, But instantly receives into his soul, A sense, a feeling, that he loses not, A something that informs him 'tis an hour Whence he may date henceforward and for ever.' It certainly is a school, where the egotist may learn humility.