athed in the blue ether of the heavens they
looked as if themselves ethereal, oftentimes exhibiting a play of
colors, having the appearance of transparent matter, of the purest
elements and richest hues, and when seen in the light of the setting
sun they were only more glorious. At the upper end of the valley we
came upon the cataract of the Chede. It is elegant in form. The
scenery that surrounds it is sylvan and sequestered. The torrent that
feeds it rushes down a succession of precipices, hurrying dashing
along to meet the waters of the Arve.

The path now became extremely difficult, and we continued to ascend,
till we reached the lake of Chede, whose water is famed as the purest
in the Alps. From this point we saw Mont Blanc--saw the clouds roll
off, and leave its rugged head white with the snows of ages--a
beautiful contrast with the deep azure of the sky it seemed almost to
touch. Looking, our eyes were dazzled by the vast and spotless object
before us; pure and fleecy as were the light clouds that lingered
round it, they were dark compared with its glittering brightness;
while the obscurity in which the lower scenes were wrapt gave it the
appearance of a crystal mountain in a sea of clouds. With Erwald
standing at my side, it seemed but a step from earth to heaven,
through those regions of the purest white, untrodden solitudes, meet
only for the visits of celestial beings.

Thus far our way had been comparatively safe. Now, we had need of
caution at each step; scrambling along ledges of lofty rocks, with
deep ravines beneath; then crossing mountain torrents where a single
misstep would have been fatal. Before night we passed the remains of
an avalanche, an enormous mass of snow crushing as it fell everything
in its path. We were now in the valley of Chamouni. At the sight of
the first glacier I felt some little disappointment. It is not itself
a mountain of ice, but lies in a deep sloping ravine between two
mountains, filling it up, and differing in height according to the
base. There are five of these glaciers in the valley. They usually lie
in a direction north and south, and thus deeply imbedded in the clefts
of the valley the sun rarely visits them.

From Savoy our numbers were greatly increased, and as the daylight
vanished we quickened our pace. Le Prieure was before us. This was
the place where I had promised to part with Erwald. There were plenty
of guides; but none of them with the sweet calm look of