y spot: the ledge projects far out, and there is so little
shelter near it, that, from beneath, it has the appearance of
overhanging the waters. It is not an essential part of the route we are
about to suggest, and we would rather decline the responsibility of
recommending it to the attention of any one who is not a practised
cragsman. In the depression we have just mentioned will be found, unless
the elements have lately changed their arrangements and operations, the
largest of those fields of snow which, even in the heat of summer,
dispute with the heath and turf the pre-eminence on the upper ranges of
Ben Muich Dhui. If we were desirous of using high-sounding expressions,
we would call this field a glacier, but it must be at once admitted that
it does not possess the qualities that have lately made these frigid
regions a matter of ardent scientific inquiry. There are no icebergs or
fissures; and the mysterious principle of motion which keeps these
congealed oceans in a state of perpetual restlessness is unknown in the
smooth snow-fields of Ben Muich Dhui. But there are some features common
to both. The snow-field, like the glacier, is hardened by pressure into
a consistence resembling that of ice. A curious thing it is to topple a
huge stone down from a neighbouring precipice on one of these
snow-fields, and see how it hits the snow without sinking in it, and
bounds along, leaving no scratch on the hardened surface. A stream
issues from the field we are now alluding to, formed like the glacier
streams from the ceaseless melting of the snow. It passes forth beneath
a diminutive arch, such as the source of the Rhine might appear through
a diminishing glass; and looking through this arch to the interior of
the hardened snow, we see exemplified the sole pleasing peculiarity of
the glacier--the deep blue tint that it assumes in the interior of the
fissures, and on the tops of the arches whence the waters issue. This
field of snow, which we believe has never been known to perspire so much
in the hottest season as to evaporate altogether, constitutes the main
source of the Avon. The little stream, cold and leafless though it be,
is not without its beauties. Rarely have we seen such brilliant mosses
as those which cluster round its source: their extreme freshness may
probably be accounted for by remembering that every summer day deducts
so much from the extent of the snow-field, and that the turf in its
immediate neighbourhood