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LETTER III.
September 25th, 1770.
WE quitted the neighbourhood of Geneva to-day at noon. Do not expect from me a defcription of this famous city and republic; I am neither qualified nor inclined to defcant upon the merits of their form of government, laws, &c. – nor is the town at all to my tafte; I mean its ftreets, architecture, &c. It is very dirty, and I fhould imagine trade flouriſhes prodigiously by the number of carts and drays with which the ftreets are crowded. Our hoft was not unreafonable, and we parted without any difpute. I write this from Friangean. a little village called Friangean, situated in a bottom, furrounded by high mountains. Our inn has a dangerous appearance, but that is all; for the poor people do every thing in their power to oblige us. They have dreffed an elegant little fupper, confifting of a fine young turkey, a-tongue à la daube, two fallads, one of anchovy, the other of lettice; a dessert compofed of cheefe, biſcuits, Maspinerie, almonds in fhell, butter churned fince our arrival, and very good wine both white and red. Is not this a fumptuous repaft for fuch a favage place? And what do you think they charge us, including our courier? Only five livres, five fols, French. I dare fay you thought Savoy af forded nothing but acorns and goat's whey. – From Geneva to this place, our road has not been abso-
