ran off, and gathering an armful of ferns and Alpine roses, he came back, and shortly had a garland made, with which he decorated the pioneer mule. He now could not find ordinary words to express his pleasure, and apologizing, he said, "By the sacred name of thunder, I will astonish the people of Chamouni.” Just at this moment the mule he was leading broke out with the bray peculiar to this animal in all countries, and he said how much pleasure it would afford him if the whole of the forty seven mules would join in chorus at the same time, and in that manner herald their approach. We were not anxious to make our entry after this fashion, and on our arrival, I must say, we did not create quite so great a sensation as our guide had anticipated, or as we should have created, had he had the management in his own hands.

We dismounted; and thoroughly tired, more so, in my own case, than ever I remember to have been before, we entered our hotel, the D'Angleterre, and finding an excellent repast spread out, lost no time in "falling to;" but, of what we saw in Chamouni and the neighbourhood, we will speak in our next chapter.

CHAPTER IX.

"Above me are the Alps,

The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls,
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,
And throned Eternity in icy halls

Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls,
The avalanche, the thunderbolt of snow!
All that expands the spirit, yet appals,
Gather around these summits, as to show

How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below."

After dinner at table d'hote, we adjourned to the terrace in front of our hotel, and seating ourselves on a rustic seat, had an opportunity of gazing full upon the royal mountain. Montgomery says of it :

"So when night, with rising shade,
Climbs the Alps from steep to steep,
Till in hoary sleep array'd

All the giant mountains sleep

High in Heaven their monarch stands,
Bright and beauteous from afar,
Shining into distant lands,

Like a new created star.

While enjoying this prospect, we heard a party discussing the propriety of venturing the ascent of the mountain on the morrow, but their enthusiasm was nipped in the bud by the landlord, who, on being informed of their intention, acquainted them with the fact that the same afternoon five gentlemen had returned to Chamouni, after spending two days in a vain attempt.

We sat, watching with intense delight the setting sun upon the mountains, the glory and splendour of the scene causing us, for the time, to forget our bodily fatigue. It realized the following beautiful description:" On either hand were black, jagged, furrowed walls of mountain, and right before us, Mont

Blanc, with his fields of glaciers and worlds of snow; they seemed to hem us in and almost press us down. The cold, white, dismal fields of ice gradually changed into hues of the most beautiful rose colour. A bank of white clouds, which rested above the mountains, kindled and glowed, as if some spirit of light had entered into them. You did not lose the idea of the dazzling spiritual whiteness of the snow, yet you seemed to see it through a rosy veil. The sharp edges of the glaciers, and the hollows between the peaks, reflected wavering tints of lilac and purple. The effect was solemn and spiritual above everything I have ever seen. The wonderful gradations of colouring in these Alpine sunsets are not among the least of their charms.”

Having rested, we strolled into the village, and entering the diligence office, secured our places for the next day. We then crossed the bridge and entered a field, intending to take the road which would lead us to a glacier that seemed about a mile distant. We traversed several fields, crossed two or three streams, through one or two woods, and then enquired of a peasant how far we were from the Glacier des Bossons. He answered that it would be about two miles, but we were close upon the Cascade du Dard, if we should like to see it. As the shades of evening were gathering around us, we preferred taking the advice offered, instead of going the whole journey. We went up the hill a short distance and saw this beautiful cascade, the appearance of which was very grand as it plunged into the narrow gorge in the valley. An hour's smart walking brought us to the village again, and as we passed through the streets we encountered little groups of our tourist party, as well as other pleasure seekers. They were talking over their

past experiences and future projects; some eulogizing the weather, which there is a matter of some moment, as upon it depends the enjoyment or disappointment of the traveller. Some thought Chamouni delightful, others tiresome, and amongst one party, was "the countess," who expressed her appreciation of the scenery in language of unbounded admiration- 66 Nothing can be finer, unless it is Rome; I should so much like to see Rome." Some of our party would not have been sorry could she have been, by some magical process, transferred there at once. One of our number was endeavouring to speak in French to a guide; making enquiry about the practicability of some ascent; but, though our friend gesticulated in a manner which would have graced either bar or pulpit, his listener failed to understand him. I was often amused at the mixture of French and English I heard, but I have no doubt my own endeavours to make myself understood gave equal amusement to others.

After spending an hour in the reading-room of the hotel, I retired to rest, the femme de chambre appropriating to my use a room exactly over the one occupied on several occasions by the late lamented Albert Smith, of Egyptian Hall celebrity. The horn of the cow-herd, summoning his flock all through the village, woke me at daybreak the next morning. I looked out of my window and saw scores of the sleek smooth animals trotting past, jingling the bells hung from their necks so merrily as almost to make one fancy they rather enjoyed the music. I lay down again, seeing no reason for being up so early, but I had scarcely to my own thinking, fallen asleep again, when the garçon rapping at the door, informed me that it was six o'clock, and breakfast was waiting. I rose and looked out of the

window again, and saw with feelings of unbounded delight "the Monarch of mountains," and to my recollection came instinctively, Coleridge's unrivalled and majestic "apostrophe to Mont Blanc."

Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the vale!
O struggling with the darkness all the night,
And visited all night by troops of stars,
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink:
Companion of the morning star at dawn,
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn
Co-herald: wake, O wake, and utter praise!
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth?
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light?
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?

*

Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow,
Adown enormous ravines slope amain-

Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,
And stopped af once amidst their maddest plunge!
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!

Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven,
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?
God let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice!
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God !
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost!
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest!
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm!
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds !
Ye signs and wonders of the element;
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise!
Thou, too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks,
Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard,

Shoots downwards, glittering through the pure serene
Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast-

Thou too again, stupendous mountain! thou

That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low

In adoration, upward from thy base

Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears,
Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud,

To rise before me-rise, O ever rise,

Rise a cloud of incense, from the earth!

Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills,

Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven,
Great hierarch! tell thou the silent sky,
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun,
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God!

Coming down stairs, one of my friends said, "we have a hard day's work before us, so be sure and make a good breakfast," and certainly it was my own fault if I