n sight of the corner in which we knew my companions
must be. As we saw one weather-beaten man after another raise the
telescope, turn deadly pale and pass it on without a word to the next,
we knew that all hope was gone. We approached. They had fallen below as
they had fallen above--Croz a little in advance, Hadow near him, and
Hudson behind, but of Lord Francis Douglas we could see nothing.[50] We
left them where they fell, buried in snow at the base of the grandest
cliff of the most majestic mountain of the Alps.

AN ASCENT OF MONTE ROSA[51]

BY JOHN TYNDALL

On Monday, the 9th of August, we reached the Riffel, and, by good
fortune on the evening of the same day, my guide's brother, the
well-known Ulrich Lauener, also arrived at the hotel on his return from
Monte Rosa. From him we obtained all the information possible respecting
the ascent, and he kindly agreed to accompany us a little way the next
morning, to put us on the right track. At three A.M. the door of my
bedroom opened, and Christian Lauener announced to me that the weather
was sufficiently good to justify an attempt. The stars were shining
overhead; but Ulrich afterward drew our attention to some heavy clouds
which clung to the mountains on the other side of the valley of the
Visp; remarking that the weather might continue fair throughout the day,
but that these clouds were ominous. At four o'clock we were on our way,
by which time a gray stratus cloud had drawn itself across the neck of
the Matterhorn, and soon afterward another of the same nature encircled
his waist. We proceeded past the Riffelhorn to the ridge above the
Goerner Glacier, from which Monte Rosa was visible from top to bottom,
and where an animated conversation in Swiss dialect commenced.

Ulrich described the slopes, passes, and precipices, which were to guide
us; and Christian demanded explanations, until he was finally able to
declare to me that his knowledge was sufficient. We then bade Ulrich
good-by, and went forward. All was clear about Monte Rosa, and the
yellow morning light shone brightly upon its uppermost snows. Beside
the Queen of the Alps was the huge mass of the Lyskamm, with a saddle
stretching from the one to the other; next to the Lyskamm came two
white, rounded mounds, smooth and pure, the Twins Castor and Pollux,
and further to the right again the broad, brown flank of the Breithorn.
Behind us Mont Cervin[52] gathered the clouds more thickly round him,
until fina