of the sea, and on how

many

shores have I seen

the same waves break, that find me here again! Who would have told me, a few years ago, that I should hear these wanderers moaning at the tombs of Scipio and Virgil, after they had rolled at my feet on the coast of England, or the strand of Canada? My name is in the hut of the savage of Florida, and in the hermit's book at Vesuvius. When shall I lay down, at the gate of my fathers, the pilgrim's staff and mantle ?

"O patria! O Divum domus Ilium !

How do I envy the lot of those, who never quitted their native land, and have no adventures to record!

A VISIT TO MONT BLANC.

I HAVE seen many mountains in Europe and America, and it has always appeared to me that in describing these monuments of nature, writers have gone beyond the truth. My last experience in this respect has not produced any change in my opinion. I have visited the valley of Chamouni, rendered famous by the labours of M. de Saussure; but I do not know whether the poet would there find the "speciosa deserti" which the mineralogist. discovered. Be that as it may, I will simply describe the reflections, which I made during my journey. My opinion, however, is of so little consequence thas it cannot offend any one.

I left Geneva in dull cloudy weather, and reached Servoz at the moment that the sky was becoming clear. The crest of Mont Blanc, as it is termed, is not discoverable from this part of the country, but there is a distinct view of the

snow-clad ridge called the dome. The Montées are here passed, and the traveller enters the valley of Chamouni. He proceeds under the glacier of the Bossons, the pyramids of which are seen through the firs and larches.

M.

Bourrit has compared this glacier, from its whiteness, and the great extent of its chrystals, to a fleet under sail. I would add in the midst of a gulph encircled with verdant forests.

I stopped at the village of Chamouni, and on the following day went to Montanvert, which I ascended in the finest weather. On reaching its summit, which is only a stage towards the top of Mont Blanc, I discovered what is improperly termed the Sea of Ice.

Let the Reader figure to himself a valley, the whole of which is occupied by a river. The mountains, near this valley, overhang the river in rocky masses, forming the natural spires of Dru, Bochard, and Charmoz. Further on, the valley and river divide themselves into two branches, of which the one waters the foot of a high mountain, called the Col du Geant or Giant's hill, and the other flows past the rocks

called Iorasses. On the opposite side is a declivity, which commands a prospect of the valley of Chamouni. This declivity, which is nearly vertical, is almost entirely occupied by the portion of the sea or lake of ice, which is called the glacier des bois. Suppose then that a severe winter has occurred. The river, which fills the valley, through all its inflexions and declivities, has been frozen to the very bottom of its bed. The summits of the neighbouring mountains are loaded with ice and snow wherever the granite has been of a form sufficiently horizontal to retain the congealed waters. Such is the lake of

ice, and such its situation.

It is manifest that

it is not a sea, and not a lake, but a river; just as if one saw the Rhine completely frozen.

When we have descended to the lake of ice, the surface, which appeared to be smooth and entire while surveyed from the heights of Montanvert, displays a number of points and cavities. The peaks of ice resemble the craggy forms of the lofty cliffs, which on all sides overhang them. They are like a relief in white marble to the neighbouring mountains.

Let us now speak of mountains in general.

There are two modes of seeing them, with and These form the principal cha

without clouds.

racter of the Alps.

When clouded, the scene is more animated, but it is obscure, and often so confused that one can hardly distinguish its features. The clouds clothe the rocks in a thousand ways. I have seen a bald crag at Servoz, across which a cloud obliquely passed like the ancient toga; and I could have fancied I beheld a colossal statue of a Roman. In another quarter the cultivated part of the mountain appeared; but a barrier of vapour obstructed the view from my station, and below it black continuations of the rocks peeped through, imitating the Chimera, the Sphinx, the heads of the Anubis, and various forms of monsters and gods, worshipped by the Egyptians.

When the clouds are dispersed by the wind, the mountains appear to be rapidly flying behind this light curtain, alternately hiding and discovering themselves. At one time, a spot of verdure suddenly displayed itself through the