ng pointed specks could be
seen on the snow, the lower being the Grands-Mulets rocks, the upper the
Aiguilles a Pichner. Lower yet are the Glaciers des Bossons and
Taconnaz, on either side of the Montagne de la Cote, their delicately
green tinted surfaces becoming more rugged and sparkling as they neared
the valley. Apparently within rifle range the Aiguille du Midi raised
its mitred summit 12,600 feet above the sea, the precipitous naked rock
contrasting with the snow which here and there found lodgment, or lay in
detached fields some 5,000 feet above the valley. On the right of the
"Monarch of the Mountains" the Dome and Aiguille du Goute with their
silver robes completed the scene.

On our way down the following arrangements were made for the next day's
excursion:--We were to visit the Grands Mulets, and in order to be back
for dinner were to start at six in the morning. A porter was to be
engaged, not to carry us or our belongings, but to act as the rear-guard
when the rope was used in dangerous places, and Francois undertook to
find a suitable man for that purpose. A mule was to be hired, Francois
remarking "you shall have the same mule and the same boy you had to-day;
you know them both."

_CHAPTER II._

"Around his waist are forests braced,
The Avalanche in his hand."

"Friend! have a care,
Your next step may be fatal!--for the love
Of Him who made you, stand not on that brink!"

The day broke bright and clear, and at six we were introduced by
Francois to his friend, Jules Tairraz, who looked very business-like
with a knapsack on his back and carrying an ice-axe and a coil of rope.
The mule having overslept himself, we went on without him, and awaited
his arrival under the trees at the foot of the mountain. At last the
lazy brute hove in sight, walking in his usual style; then our coats,
the knapsack, rope, etc., were strapped on, and by way of adding to his
comfort I got into the saddle, and thus the ascent was begun.

The route lay through the forest des Pelerins, and for some distance ran
parallel with the Arve, crossing the torrents which flow into that
river, over picturesque wooden bridges. Then, on approaching the lower
extremity of the Glacier des Bossons, it wound to the left and
zig-zagged up the base of the mountain.

As we ascended the steep and narrow track an occasional gap in the trees
afforded a sight of the glacier and enabled