doing any thing, he is apt to say little or nothing in regard to it; and so my Mon Blanc fever was never mentioned. I at once, however, put myself in training for the escapade, by climbing a mountain daily. If a friend was about doing his worshipping in the highplaces, I joined him; if not, I went alone; but always with a horse and guide, mounting and riding as soon as fairly fatigued, as my object, of course, was to increase my strength as rapidly as possible, not to lose it by over-exertion.

Sometimes a lady-friend was willing to forget her city habits, and look at life from a higher level. I was her ready companion in her outlook for a wider horizon and her approach to the clouds. During one of these exhilarating ascents, some unknown practical wag forced a laugh from the guide and myself, somewhat at the expense of my fair friend, and I feel inclined to share the laugh with the reader.

Taking a carriage at the hotel, and putting a side-saddle in charge of the driver, with one of Eve's fairest, blackeyed daughters at my side, we drove off through the dew, which the earlier sunbeams were taking to themselves again, and were soon at the foot of Beatenberg. There the carriage-way ended, and the bridle-path up the mountain began. The carriage was drawn under the trees at the road-side, the side-saddle, with its little railing half round the seat, was placed on the horse, and the lady was about mounting. Alas! short skirts, large hoops, and a side-saddle do not "work together for good;" so we made a graceful little chamber of the carriage, retired, and the offending member was removed and hidden under the seat. At last the lady was mounted, and I, with my alpenstock, trudged on at her side. The day was a poem; the air champagne; the scene, the point-lace on the neck of Nature; and Nature looked lovingly into the eyes of her worshippers. We whiled away hours at the summit; took a midday breakfast at the chalet there, which was enlivened by

the French chat of the German Ganymede, and finally descended. As we approached the resting-place of our innocent carriage, I noticed a broad grin on the face of our German guide, and looked in the direction of his stare. Alas for human care!-our sanctum had been violated. In front of the carriage had been planted a long pole, and from the top, in all its native grace and nudity, hung the hoopskirt we had left so snugly hidden. The lady's face, as e came towards the scene, proved that the pole we were approaching was not the Arctic one.

Well, I climbed the Beatenberg and the Schinige Platte, the Wengern Alp and the Roth-horn-names well known to Swiss tourists; and, after three weeks at Interlachen, walked up the Brunig Pass, and so on to Lucerne, where, after doing the Rigi on foot three times in four days, I began to think I might possibly be able to see the cathedral ycleped Europe from the giant Dome itself.

Bidding good-by to my friends, without telling of my intention to try the ascent, I took another look at the Jungfrau and its avalanches from the Wengern Alp, had a hard walk up to the Hospice of St. Bernard, and a frugal dinner with its monks, and thence, in one day, by foot, mule, and horse-power, via Martigny and the Tête Noir, reached Chamouni and the base of the pedestal, on whose dizzy height I was perhaps to be mounted for a moment, or in whose chasms to lie buried, unchanged and undecaying, for generations, the snow for a winding-sheet, the mountain-shadows as mourners, and the star-candles round my bier.

The sky was clear for an hour or two on the Thursday morning of my arrival at Chamouni, and there, far away in the blue ether, rose the grand snowdome, in attempts to reach which so many have fallen by the wayside, so many have had limbs broken and eyes blinded, and whence not a few souls have been hurried to the judgment-seat.

To hear one who had been to the Grand Mulets assert that he would not

do even that again for forty thousand pounds-to hear of another who had made the attempt to ascend, and was confined three weeks in a dark room to regain his eyesight; and the thousandand-one stories, ludicrous or fearful, unfortunate or fatal, which are told of the adventures in the snow-regions, only made the venture to me more weirdly fascinating.

Making the necessary inquiries about guides, I selected, as companions for the feat, Pierre François Favret, one of Albert Smith's guides, strong, gentle, bold, and cautious, and whom I cordially recommend to tourists in that region; Jean Carriez, who has probably made the ascent more frequently than any other man; Louis Venance Favret, who had not been up that year, but was strongly recommended, and proved himself to be a good man and true; and Joseph Coutêt, who had never been up at all.

As soon as the selection had been made, and the men were together, I said: "My friends-and true friends we shall be to each other for a few days, bound together by the same danger as well as the same rope-your association of guides has a tariff of charges which, in my case, cannot be used. I must make my own rules, and a special bargain. Your tariff reads, that any one attempting to reach the summit, and failing, shall, if he reach a certain locality, pay so much; if he reach another point, another sum; and if he reach another place near the summit, and still fail, yet another sum. I decline being bound by this tariff, and wish to make a bargain more to your interest if we succeed, more to your loss if we do not. My offer is this: I will give you a handsome premium (naming the sum) over your highest tariff, if we reach the summit, nothing, if we do not; but will try with you again as soon as whatever fatigue, storm, or other lion in the way may be avoided or overcome. I came here to make the ascent-to fight it out on that line if it take all summer; and I wish you to be partners in my success or

failure. I do not fear for my head, lungs, or stomach; as to my limbs, I have already told you of my training, and you must judge for yourselves. If you decline my terms, I must choose other guides." They talked over the matter for a few minutes, and decided to accept.

Awaiting the day and the hour when the sunshine and the barometer should beckon us on, we passed the time in ranging to the Mer de Glace, the Cascade des Pélerins, and so on, to keep my limbs and lungs in good condition, and in preparing alpinstocks, goggles, hob-nailed shoes or half-boots, ice-hatchets, and whatever could be thought of as useful in case of any possible contingency. So passed Thursday and Friday, damp and unpromising, misty and cloudy, as it had already been for the most part of the season. Saturday came, however, "glorious as an army with banners; "the sunshine sparkled on the snow-dome and in the valleys, and the foliage and flowers looked up with bright smiles of welcome and assurance. Alas! our "things" were not ready; the previous day had been so unpromising, that the workmen had not hurried, and we had to lose a day, which was a brilliant among pebbles. Sunday was another day seemingly made for happier and better spheres-so calm, so clear, so cloudless, so exactly the day the most cautious guide would have voted for, that, although we had postponed to Monday our climb into the blue ether, I could not resist the temptation. Sending hurriedly for the guides, our preparations were hastily made. Those whose shops were closed, were searched for through the village and found. Knapsacks were buckled on two of the guides, and a good-sized coil of rope, ice-hatchets, poles, and wrappers, divided between the shoulders of the other two. For my own part, anxious, of course, to succeed, and thinking of that often-quoted ounce which had such an unfortunate effect on the spine of a certain camel, knives, keys, pocketmoney, whatever I could dispense with, and so avoid carrying weight, was laid

aside. The outlook was promising at all points save one. My training-shoes, within a day or two, had rubbed the skin from one of my heels, and it pained me, and looked threatening. I threw the shoes aside, put some pomade on the offending member, and packed the snow-boots in the knapsack, then put on a pair of dress-boots which I had with me, thin and easy, and stood ready to start for the snow-regions, with this rather unusual covering, more suitable for a dance on a spring-floor, than for wading through the snow-drifts in the dance of all the winds.

Writing out a memorandum of what I wished to be done in case the ice-gods put a veto on my return, I gave it to the proprietor of the hotel; and finally, at 10 A. M. of August 18, 1867, amid the usual groups of gaping and curious idlers, and with many wishes for our success, we started on our perilous and not over-wise adventure.

The note of our coming had evidently preceded us; for men and women, as we passed the different cottages, came to the doors and wished us good-speed. So we passed on to the foot of the mountain, and thence up, up, up, on the zigzag bridle-path, amid the rocks, the forests, and the wild-flowers, catching fair glimpses of the valley, the village, and the opposite mountains, with their ever-varying beauty, as we saw them from different elevations. Three hours thus of unresting, ceaseless trudging, and we reached La Pierre Pointue, and the comfortable and well-appointed châlet there, hanging, as it were, in the air. To climb to this rock, which might well form an eagle's eyry, is one of the ordinary excursions of tourists at Chamouni.

Mountains were about us in shoals, showing their jagged tops in all directions. The houses in the village looked like children's toys, and the cornfields like the squares of a chess-board; yet we had not reached the snow-line, though the Flegère and the Mer de Glace were far below us.

On a breakfast of a little fruit I had done this portion of the day's labor,

and, with a famous appetite, sat down to a hearty lunch, or "second breakfast." Here, also, were secured and packed in our knapsacks the cold chickens, eggs, fruit, wine, &c., which the guides thought necessary for our well-being until our return, and which are always ready at this little hotel, where many excursions to various parts of the eternal snows have their beginning.

It was warm, but not oppressively so; a few little white clouds, bathed in sunshine, looked like messengers of peace, beckoning us on; and the faraway snow domes of the mountain in the glitter of the afternoon sun seemed to look down lovingly upon us. Certainly there was no frown in their aspect, though, perhaps, they were playing the role of syren, and luring us to ruin.

All being ready, on we started again towards the "innermost " of Alpine madness, where the avalanches are born, and the snow for all time hides the victims they have crushed. Up, up, with a path at times safe, again along the face of the mountain, with the steep rocks on one side, the precipice on the other; and still again where a chamois might have looked doubtingly before he ventured up, and where the guide of surest foot and steadiest head was put forward to gain a frail footing, and thence reach down his hand to the next. A slip here would have sent us to depths double the reach of our highest steeples, where we would have been dashed to pieces on the broken masses of ice at the foot of the glacier. An hour of this labor, and with panting hearts, and faces on which the perspiration stood in large drops, we reached the snow-line, above which the mountain is covered now and forever. It has taken the white veil, and is waiting for the final judgment to release it from its vows.

It was the first time I had reached the snow-line on any mountain, and being less steep than the previous rockpaths, not disagreeable to walk on. Between the action of the sun and frost, daily and nightly, it had become solidi

fied without being hard, resembling somewhat the walking on loose wet sand, or a mass of fine hail. I still kept to my dress-boots, preferring wet feet and a foothold less sure, to the chances of irritating my sore heel, so that it might have prevented my progress altogether. Poor boots! the first pair of the kind, probably, that ever reached that altitude. They were not made for such a cold world, and their soles gave way in the day of trial and tribulation.

Our way now for a time lay over a mass of snow nearly level; and as the previous hour's labor had been quite severe, I proposed stopping for a breathing-spell; but the anxious looks of the guides, the quick, nervous shake of the head, their hurrying footsteps, and the pas ici! pas ici, monsieur! made me look about me more carefully. On the left, some hundreds of yards from us, rose a perpendicular mass of rocks, which, standing alone in any plain, would have been called a mountain. The gigantic front of this mass faced the south, and our pathway; and heated, often intensely, by the noon day sun, frozen by the night-wind and the cold, rained upon, hailed upon, blown upon, the work of disintegration, of course, goes on rapidly, and from time to time a boulder is split off, loosened from its mountain-hold, and down it comes with the speed of light, the sound of thunder, and flashes across the plain. Woe be to the unfortunate in its way. There they lay, scattered about the snow-plain, some in our pathway, some beyond it ;, most of them freshly fallen, or they would have been snowed over and hidden. A bit of real danger has a curious effect on fatigue. I felt nothing of mine; and as we hastened on, sometimes running, we kept a sharp outlook at the face of the rock-wall, that we might try and dodge, as soldiers sometimes do a cannon-ball, if the spirits of the mountain had made a discharge at us-which they did not, fortunately, and so we passed on. Catholic guide thought, St. Peter kept off la maudite pierre. At last we sat down in the snow, beyond the reach of that danger, until our hearts beat a

As a

little more calmly, and the perspiration ceased forming on our brows. A few minutes sufficed for this, and we were soon again on the "war-path." The ascent became steeper, rougher-then an opening in the ice at our feet; at one part of it the snow and ice had lodged and packed, so as to form a sort of bridge, and we crossed there. Again, an icc-crack-we sprang over it. Then the way became still steeper and rougher; a hillside of frozen snow, too steep to climb without slipping or falling. Carriez at once, with his thin ice-hatchet fixed on the end of an alpenstock, began cutting steps for our advance; while I looked on with much curiosity at the process, which was to be the only means which would enable us to climb miles and miles of steep ice and snow mountains. This rise was not high, however, and we soon surmounted it.

Behind us the view was extending. Fresh mountain-peaks by the hundred were visible, while in front of us Alps on Alps arose, and the outlook was becoming more formidable, the way steeper, with huge ice-masses of strange shapes in our path. Here we halted to breathe; here, also, the long rope was lifted from the guides' shoulders, and uncoiled. First, the end was tied round Carriez, who, with his ice-hatchet, was to lead the way; then, some seven feet of loose rope, and Favret, strong as a young Hercules, was tied in. He had nothing to carry, I being under his more immediate care. Again some seven feet of loose rope, and I was tied in, as the central figure of the group, and in what was considered the safest place. The rope was put round me well up on the waist, with a hard-knot under the right

impossible as we approached. At times we went along the top of these icemasses; again upon their sides, in steps cut by the first guide, and with perdition below us if we slipped. Again, as they were wide or narrow, stepping or leaping over ice-cracks, crevasses, chasms; or, if they were too wide for that, skirting the side until it was narrower, or we found a bridge formed by the drifting snow-for we took no ladder with us. At every advance the scene became wilder, more chaotic. It looked as if Nature might have been insane when she formed it, or as if the demon had been turned loose, and here was the débris of his mad riot; or as if the lightning had been playing there. But what do I say-playing? It looked like the hard work of a thousand thunderbolts. What a scene--the statue of Madness done in ice by Omnipotence! In the past æons the world was "without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep," and the voice of the Almighty called it to order, to form, to beauty; but here was a space which seemed to have been deaf to the call, or not to have heeded. It looked as if the archangels and the demons might here have had their last battle for mastery in heaven. What form, chaotic; what power, inert; what eloquence in silence; what stillness in the poetry of motion! And there were we, five mites of humanity, toiling wearily over the battle-field, where the horrible and beautiful lay about us in such weird confusion. How little and how utterly alone we were amid it all, climbing, creeping, leaping, over the icemasses, over the chasms, and through the silence so almost startling, broken only by the word of caution, as the danger became more apparent or real.

It might reasonably be supposed that I was somewhat startled at all this-at the dizzy heights we had to climb, the unfathomed chasms to leap over; but I was not, and probably for two simple reasons. In the first place, I loved heights, and had been familiar with them from childhood; and in the next, I had read no detailed account of the

ascent-indeed, had avoided it, as, if the opportunity ever offered of making the ascension, I desired to have all the impressions fresh and my own. My imagination, too, had pictured it fully as fearful as it was; to say nothing of the fact that I took all this to be merely a preface to the real work ahead, and therefore went at it with a ready alacrity and aplomb, which the guides spoke of afterwards as unusual. I had yet to learn that we were doing, perhaps, some of our most dangerous work; the thought, however, would obtrude at times, If this be the preface, what can the body of the book be?

However, I had pleasant, genial guides, frank, simple, honest-hearted, and manly in their bearing, and almost tenderly solicitous about one's comfort and safety-well-informed, too, at least in their own occupation, and about the mountains; and being well, and in good spirits, for the time, I thoroughly enjoyed what was to me a new sensation.

'Double, double, toil and trouble " at last, however, brought us to the final steep; and working our way to its summit, we are on the little rock platform, sheltered from the avalanches by the perpendicular rocks at its side. On this platform, three or four times the height of the Catskill Mountains, stands the little hut where we must spend some part of the night, and begin the ascent of Mont Blanc proper before the dawn; for no one who comes thus far, and returns, is considered to have had any thing to do with the noted mountain itself.

The sun was sinking-its glory was haloing the world. A few little clouds far below us, still and motionless, were bathed in a golden light. The snowdome, increasing in size as we approached, reminded one of the great dome at St. Petersburg on a gigantic scale, as the setting sun gilded and burnished its surface. The sun, at the angle from which we looked, was seen through a depth of atmosphere twice as great as we ever see it from below; and it was apparently four times as large—its hue, a strange purplish red. One could