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The guides rightly conjectured that this would be the last water we should find unfrozen, and, being very thirsty, we halted to take a copious draught, mixing a little sirop de vinaigre with our beverage. As we stood in a group at the bottom of this little dell, the view on every side was exceedingly odd and beautiful. In one direction, the outline of the icy circle was wildly rent down and cleft; in another, curiously jagged and contorted; in another rising into lofty pinnacles, or jutting out into promontories of a pale azure green, and dripping fast under the powerful rays of an afternoon sun. I attempted to take a few hasty outline sketches in my note-book, as the guides were finishing their libations; but neither words nor pencil can convey a clear conception of the wildness and singularity of the forms. We were now approaching the junction of the Glacier de Taconnai with the Glacier des Buissons, and not very far from Saussure's line of march. The disorder and confusion in the masses were evidently produced by the lateral pressure of these huge frozen seas on each other. As we were plodding quietly along the snow, absorbed in silent wonder, or only exclaiming from time to time, How very odd!” and finding out, or fancying, the most whimsical resemblances, our footsteps were suddenly arrested by a loud roar, like that of distant heavy artillery. Every eye was instantly turned towards the sound; and, not without emotion, we saw the dust of a vast avalanche of tons of ice and snow, that had fallen from the base of the Aiguille du Midi, and part of which seemed to have fallen not very far from the spot where we halted to breakfast. Coutet and the guides appeared a good deal moved at this accident, saying that, had it fallen earlier in the day, some of us would probably have advanced no farther. This circumstance naturally brought to mind the fatal disaster of 1820, and for some short time we talked less, but perhaps thought the more. It was comfortable, however, to see that no summits impended over us at present; we were on an open slope of broken ice, covered with a pretty thick stratum of snow; we had nothing to fear but concealed chasms, from which, with our ropes on, there was no very great reason for apprehension. We marched on rapidly; and, about 3 o'clock, we saw with great pleasure, over the summit of the Breven, the quiet lake of Geneva, shining like a vast mirror in the low hazy distance. In about an hour more we began to draw nearer to the Grands Mulets rocks. The snow was now become deeper, occasionally to the knee, and commonly about half that depth. We crossed three or four natural bridges of ice, lightly spanning a dark gulph. The guides bade us carefully tread in their footsteps, and every one passed as gently and as quickly as possible, holding his ice-pole under his arm, that, should the crust break, he might still have the chance of being borne up by the strength of his baton, resting at each end on the edges of the hole. The crevices round the base of the Grands Mulets had always been represented as the most formidable in the whole passage; and, as the cracks on entering the glacier were unusually deep and numerous, it was anticipated that we should perhaps find it impossible to mount on the rocks at all, and so be compelled to encamp on the snows. Simeon said this disagreeable necessity had happened to him on a previous journey; that they had lighted a chafing-dish of charcoal on the ice, and fallen asleep round it; upon waking, they found the chafing-dish sunk into a hole, which it had melted for itself, and one of their party, who had slept over the fumes, was actually rendered insensible by the carbonic acid; they took him in their arms, rubbed him, and kept him moving till his recovery, which, however, was by no means immediate. We were all of course anxious to examine these chasms: on a first view their appearance was not very prepossessing, but we were encouraged by Coutet's remark, that, upon the whole, they were less formidable than he had feared, and that he had passed them when they were worse. Thus animated, we advanced slowly along the slippery margin; but, after several awkward passages, suddenly came to a complete stand-still, upon a sort of corner of ice, projecting into a chasm of fearful depth and width. This seemed at first an insuperable barrier to further progress. A council was called, and we stood, in anxious debate, nearly up to our knees in snow, on the edge of the gulph, but a little sheltered by a snow-bank above us.

Cou

tet said, that when the crevices proved bad, he preferred making a considerable circuit, so as to avoid the principal chasms, and also escape a very steep and difficult passage of rock at the base of the Grands Mulets. He proposed to despatch a party to see whether we could pass the crack, by steering a little more to the right, towards the base of the Dôme-du-Goûté. Simeon and Julien immediately set out on the errand, for we had no time to lose. They were soon hid from sight, having descended some distance into another branch of the chasm to reconnoitre. In no small anxiety we watched their return, for the service was no trifle, as they were obliged to separate too widely from each other, to prevent the consequences of a slip. Simeon and Julien were concealed from us till we began to be quite uneasy, and were right glad when they re-appeared, though with somewhat long faces and reporting that the crack rather widened, so that it would be absolute madness to think of crossing it in that direction. Coutet still seemed rather of opinion that it might be as well to return on our steps, and make a yet wider circuit, to avoid passing the crevice; but his opinion did not seem generally popular; our feet too were now getting so bitterly cold, from standing still in the snow, that the prospect of reaching solid rock, and getting our feet off the ice, was exceedingly alluring. From the spot where we stood, the steep passage at the base of the Grands Mulets did not appear very difficult, but we afterwards found it far more so than we had reckoned upon; and on another occasion I would certainly make a wide circuit, and not attempt to scale the base of the Grands Mulets.

The prevalent opinion therefore was, to make at once for the rocks, which were but a few hundred yards from the corner of ice on which we stood in consultation. After diligent search, a sort of narrow bridge of ice was found, which facilitated the passage considerably, although it was still somewhat nervous. The leading guide, attached to a cord, descended with the hatchet, and cut holes as he passed. When he had secured himself a pretty secure footing, another guide cautiously followed to the same slippery landingplace. In like manner we had to make our way; and with a little sliding, crawling, and jumping, we were all on the other side of the principal crack. This manoeuvre we repeated two or three times, but it was not altogether comfortable; anxiety was on every face; worthy Simeon's chin hung low, and the conversation was monosyllabic. By the way, it is very important, not only to have a cord between each two men, but also one, if not two spare cords. After about twenty minutes scrambling, we stepped with great satisfaction, from the surface of the glacier, to a projecting mass of rock.

The first sensation, on placing the foot upon the solid and comparatively warm surface of the rock, was quite luxurious; and the muscles were relieved from that incessant tension necessary in walking upon ice. Some notion of this feeling may be formed by recollecting the effect upon the ancles, of 4 or 5 hours skaiting, the first day of the season. Having all reached the base of the Grands Mulets, the next affair was to ascend them; and this was a work of time and fatigue. Coutet and Simeon estimated the height of the steep part, at about 250 feet. It did not appear to me by any means so much, but it was certainly the most rapid ascent I ever crawled up. Perpendicular, of course, it was not, else, of course, we could not have got up at all; but it was steeper, for instance, than La Cheminée on the Breven, with the additional comfort, that if you slipped off, you would have descended directly into the blue yawning crevices beneath. The masses of rock were sometimes loose, and it was necessary to examine with great care the stability of a block before trusting your weight to it, for the dislodgement of one large stone would have been no very pleasant salutation to the party below, two or three of whom it must infallibly have swept down into a chasm. The guide in advance endeavoured to direct you where to place your hands or foot; and, in very ticklish parts, he let down the end of his rope, which you tied round the breast, then crept forward, and were now and then dragged upwards by sheer muscular effort. There was necessity, however, for caution, lest a sudden jerk should bring the guide toppling on your head; or, had he retained his footing, still the cord might not have prevented your getting so violent a swing against the rocks, as to have

incapacitated you for prosecuting the excursion farther. Our progress up this steep was slow enough. I apprehend it was not much less than half an hour before we found ourselves all safe and sound, on the upper part of the Grands Mulets; with only a long, broken, but not dangerous slope, to ascend to the place of halt for the night. Long faces were now shortened, and anxious silence exchanged for gaiety and joke. Coutet, a natural wag, was in high glee, and Michel, the youngest of the guides, one of the four who had never been to the summit, was the incus of Coutet's wit. "Vite, Michel! courez à l'hotel! diner de suite; nous aurons un dindon! Feu dans le petit Salon, No. Vingt-un ! Les meilleurs lits pour neuf, voyez vous? Allez ! Vite, mon cher!"--In ten minutes we drew up to this hotel, which is certainly as well ventilated as any in Europe.

It consisted of an uneven ledge of rock about five feet wide and twenty long. One side toward the Aiguille du Midi was well defended by a solid natural parapet, rising as a back to it; on the other three sides was a little wall of loose stones piled one on the other, half a foot high, so as to form a sort of oblong parallelogram. There was nothing like roof, nor any projection of rock to shelter you above, so that on entering the petit salon, we found what we did not find in the petit salon below, the luxury of a carpet, for it was covered by a deep stratum of snow. The first business was to scrape out most of this snow with a flat stone, and then to turn up the dry sides of the other flat stones, which served as a mattress; a single blanket was then spread, and, having put on dry shoes, gaiters, &c., we sat down very sungly. When we arrived at the sleeping shelf, a little after five o'clock in the evening, the barometer was exposed, to cool the middle portion of mercury, probably heated in carrying. It then stood at 19 inches

8 lines, French measure. The thermometer of the baronieter, at 8° Reaumur. The exterior air, 8 Reaum. The guides now fell to work to light up a fire of some pieces of wood, which were found at the edge of the glacier, and had been brought up for the purpose. An old ladder was found on the rocks, left here exposed since last year, and no longer serviceable. Julien cut up part of it into shavings, as dexterously as an old seaman would have done, and we soon had a wreathing column of smoke, and a cheerful blaze that enlivened the whole scenery. No water was found any where on the rocks; the great black copper saucepan was therefore piled up with snow, and this when melted filled half the vessel. Some wine and sugar greatly improved the potion. The knapsacks were hastily unpacked, and we began supper with much appetite, and peals of laughter at the oddness of our situation and personal appearance: night-caps, Welsh wigs, drying shoes, green veils, broadbrimmed hats, the great black kettle, smoking negus, excoriated faces-it was altogether a comical scene. My friend's night-cap deserves a few words. On the evening before our departure, an English gentleman, full of the milk of human kindness, came to Captain Sherwill, saying, "So you are going upward, Sir?” "Think of it, Sir." You'll be very cold." "So they say, Sir." "Wish I could be of any service!" Sir, I thank you." "Afraid I can't; but stop! stay two seconds." The worthy gentleman vanished for an instant, and then re-appeared with a superb flannel night-cap. "There Sir," said he, holding up the night-cap with much benignity, "take that, Sir; will be very serviceable, I assure you!" My friend hesitating a moment, having never seen the gentleman before, he said smilingly, "Come, Sir, no refusing, I have a particular wish that you should accept my night-cap; will keep your ears so warm, Sir, I shall have pleasure in thinking about it." There was no resisting such an appeal; accordingly the night-cap was gratefully accepted, displayed at supper on the Grands Mulets, mounted to the summit of Mont Blanc, and is now carefully preserved as an invaluable relic.

Coutet, who had the arrangement of that business, ordered the cold fowls to be reserved exclusively for to-morrow, observing that, however keen our appetites might be now, we should become far more fastidious, when we got a few thousand feet higher, and that we might be able to eat a pullet when the other provisions were nauseated. After supper, the guides concocted a mixture of melted snow, brandy, lemons, sugar, &c., which by courtesy we

denominated punch; but the increasing chilness of the evening made it agreeable, and it served to drink the health of the distinguished Author, as we amused ourselves with repeating stanzas of the immortal ode, 'Needy knife-grinder! whither are you going," &c. Julien, too, cheered his jocund circle with some mountain ballads, as they sat munching toasted cheese round the glowing embers.

Evening was drawing on apace, when, on a sudden, we were all roused to our feet by the loud roar of an avalanche, which fell very near us; a prodigious mass of soft, loose snow slipped from the impending heights of the Mont Maudit into the deep narrow valley at the foot of the Grands Mulets. Standing on the height above, near our sleeping shelf, we could watch the rapid motion of the mass, for it continued falling several seconds, and a large cloud of snowy dust rushed nearly half across the valley. We were highly delighted, and even the guides shouted, and seemed vastly pleased, for so large an avalanche, and seen so close, and under so favourable circumstances, was not an every-day occurrence, even to them. It was decidedly one of the grandest I ever saw, but though larger and more sublime, perhaps not more beautiful, than one which we saw gliding down like a stream of liquid silver, from the heights of the Jungfrau, as we stood on the opposite heights of the Wengern Alps. The deep valley between the Grands Mulets and the base of the Mont Maudit is filled with those immense cubes of snow, which have been called seracs, and a wilder scene no fancy ever pictured.

As evening advanced, the scene around became increasingly beautiful : not merely the round head, but a considerable portion of the snowy side of the Buet, appeared towering far above the line of the Aiguilles Rouges. We saw a considerable part of the Lake of Geneva looking increasingly bright as the surrounding hills grew grey in the shades of evening. On its northern side we could distinctly make out the town of Nion. The horizon was bounded by the long dark line of the Jura. Beneath us lay the quiet valley and village of Chamouni, but we were far too high to hear the slightest sound from below. On the side of the Breven hung a cultivated patch, called, I think, the village of Merlet: then beyond, the valley of Sallenche, and thick masses of mist resting on the bold turrets of the Aiguille de Varens. But the finest point of view was, perhaps, that towards Aix-les-bains in Savoy, or nearly in that direction; it was beautifully clear. I counted, distinctly, no less than eight ranges of mountain-tops, one behind the other, gradually fading away, shade after shade, and at last surmounted by a fine bright evening sky of a very peculiar tinge, between crimson and flesh-colour. It seemed to me that I had never seen precisely that tinge of sky before. Nearer the eye was the summit of the hill that overtops the broken line of the rugged Glacier de Taconnai. Under our feet was the vast plain of snow extending toward the base of the Dôme-du-Gôuté, in various parts of which we could discern immense dark caverns in the snow, near which our morning's path would lie. Far, far above us, the snowy summit of the mountain still receded in distant majesty, so that after a day's progress we really seemed not to have come much nearer the top. Then turning round, you saw several dark rocks deeply embedded in snow, to the whole of which has been given the somewhat indistinct name of the Mont Maudit. Then, directly in front, rose the immense Aiguille du Midi, whose summit had just ceased to reflect the glow of sunset. There was hardly a breath of wind; all was hushed and still as death; we gazed round and round, till the scene grew dim in twilight, and then sat down on our stony couch. A second blanket was spread as a covering; three poles were placed in an inclined position against the rock, and to them was attached a sheet so as to form a rude tent over our heads; yet it was so loose that, had it snowed in the night, we should have been well nigh covered before morning. The song of the guides had ceased; their evening prayers were said, and we all betook ourselves to sleep, as best we could, dozing at intervals: every now and then the low distant roar of an avalanche roused our attention. The stones that formed our couch were uneven and angular enough, and the air was very chill,

was

;

though less so than we had expected. About five o'clock, on our arrival, the thermometer was at 84 Reaum.; at half-past seven it had sunk to 3o Reaum. and at a quarter after eight it was at zero, Reaum., and probably not many degrees lower during the night. My amiable companion slept little, being much distressed by continued nausea. During the night I rose, left our rude tent, and reconnoitred the appearance of the weather. The guides were all sleeping, some near the end of the tent, others in a small cavity in the rock below. The dark sky was perfectly clear, and the stars sparkling in the ebou vault. To complete the sublimity of the scene, the bright moon shining on the top of Mont Blanc, and throwing strong masses of light and shade over the wide waste of snow. This scene alone was worth a pilgrimage! No words can convey an adequate impression of the solemnity and awful wildness of this moonlight picture! Far above, the cold beams were playing on that fatal spot where rest the bodies of the three brave guides embalmed in ice. Yet it was not certain that, from the annual movement of the glacier, the bodies might not be slowly descending toward the valley, and perhaps much nearer us than we were aware. With this thought another insensibly mixed itself. Did not these men sleep the night before on this very ledge? Were they not as full of alacrity and hope as ourselves? What, if to-morrow evening's rising moon should find us as they are? If it should be so, what is beyond?-When long chained down to the tiny, contemptible vanities of men, the contracted spirit shrinks from the vast contemplation of Eternity, and fears to think itself immortal. The majestic truths of Revelation are too mighty for its puny grasp. But here, amidst the awful monuments of a Power that works unseen, escaping away from man and all his futilities, the dreams of infidel philosophy seduce no more: they are no longer congenial to the heart. Man feels himself a worm, an insect, an atom; but he bethinks himself that Heaven's wide regard still rests individually on him, a speck in creation. Then he is not afraid.

SANDOVAL, OR THE FREEMASON.*

THERE is a combination of attractions in the title of this historical novel, which will very rarely be found in works of the class to which it belongs. It is a Spanish tale, written by a Spaniard, who has already made a successful début in our literature with another novel, "Don Esteban." It gives us reason to expect that our curiosity will be gratified, by the history of freemasonry in Spain, (about which so little is known,) of its influence over her risings and revolutions-the display, in their real colours, of the characters that figured in them, which derive an additional interest from belonging to our own day; and, combined with all this, the right we have to expect from a Spaniard, those lights and shadows of Spanish life which nong but a native is qualified to give us. We have been so much accustomed, in Spanish novel-writing, to the insipidity of pastoral life, to impossible adventures, or to the absurd and disgusting feats of beggars and Picaros, that we are somewhat surprised, on opening Sandoval, to find the Author talking so much like folks of this world, and the authors of our own generation. Our Spaniard writes in English, and in singularly good English too, which is more than can be said of many worthy authors whom we could name.

Sandoval is a young Spanish officer, belonging to the third Spanish army, which, after the battle of Toulouse, has received orders to return to Spain. Previous to the departure of the army from France, letters

* Sandoval, or the Freemason; a Spanish Tale. By the Author of " Don Esteban." 3 vols. 12mo. London, 1826.