Rollo in Geneva

by Jacob Abbott

"There, father!" said he, "there! We are coming to the Arve."

"Yes," said Mrs. Holiday; "and I don't suppose that we can go much farther."

Indeed, it would have been impossible to go much farther, if there had not been a small embankment made to serve for a pathway. The party, though expecting every moment to be obliged to turn back, still went on. At length the whole expanse of the Arve opened before them as it came in from the left—its waters boiling, whirling, and sweeping in great circles as it came on, and the whole surface of it as gray as the sand on the shores. On the other side was the Rhone, blue, and pellucid, and beautiful as the sky above.

"What an extraordinary spectacle!" said Mr. Holiday.

"Come, mother," said Rollo, "we can go on a good deal farther yet."

Rollo was right; for the walk, instead of coming to an end at the extremity of the point which separated the two rivers, was continued along a little dike or embankment which seemed to have been made artificially some distance down between the two streams. This dike was very narrow, being just wide enough indeed for a narrow footpath.

In advancing along this path it was very curious to observe the totally different aspects of the water on the two sides of it. On the one side it was turbid and gray, and perfectly opaque. You could not have seen the pollywogs in the shallowest places along the margin. On the other side it was so clear and transparent that you could have seen fishes swimming where it was ten feet deep. It was of such a rich and beautiful blue color, too, as if it had been tinted with a dye, and the color was of so rich and brilliant a hue, that Mrs. Holiday was continually admiring and praising it.

This narrow path, dividing thus the waters of the two rivers, continued several yards; but at length it came to an end. The party all went on till they reached the extremity of it, and there, looking still farther on, they saw the line of demarcation between the gray water and the blue extending itself before them as far as they could see. The two rivers remained for a long distance perfectly distinct, though struggling and contending against each other, as it were, all the way. The line was broken and indented all along by the strife of the waters—the gray for a moment penetrating into the blue, and then the next instant the blue forcing itself into the gray. The waters went on struggling against each other in this manner as far as the eye could follow them.

The party remained on the extremity of the point a long time, observing this singular phenomenon. At length it began to be pretty warm there; for the narrow tongue of land which projected so far between the two currents was exposed to the sun, which had now risen so high that there was a good deal of heat in his rays.