oncern the gigantic enterprise of the modern Hannibal.

A convent or hospice, which had been established on the mountain for the
purpose of affording assistance to solitary travellers, sufficiently
bespeaks the dangers of these stormy regions. But the St. Bernard was
now to be crossed, not by solitary travellers, but by an army. Cavalry,
baggage, limbers, and artillery were now to wend their way along those
narrow paths where the goat-herd cautiously picks his footsteps. On the
one hand masses of snow, suspended above our heads, every moment
threatened to break in avalanches, and sweep us away in their descent.
On the other, a false step was death. We all passed, men and horse, one
by one, along the goat paths. The artillery was dismounted, and the
guns, put into excavated trunks of trees, were drawn by ropes.

I have already mentioned that the First Consul had transmitted funds to
the hospice of the Great St. Bernard. The good fathers had procured from
the two valleys a considerable supply of cheese, bread, and wine. Tables
were laid out in front of the hospice, and each soldier as he defiled
past took a glass of wine and a piece of bread and cheese, and then
resigned his place to the next. The fathers served, and renewed the
portions with admirable order and activity.

The First Consul ascended the St. Bernard with that calm self-possession
and that air of indifference for which he was always remarkable when he
felt the necessity of setting an example and exposing himself to danger.
He asked his guide many questions about the two valleys, inquired what
were the resources of the inhabitants, and whether accidents were as
frequent as they were said to be. The guide informed him that the
experience of ages enabled the inhabitants to foresee good or bad
weather, and that they were seldom deceived.

Bonaparte, who wore his gray greatcoat, and had his whip in his hand,
appeared somewhat disappointed at not seeing any one come from the valley
of Aorta to inform him of the taking of the fort of Bard. I never left
him for a moment during the ascent. We encountered no personal danger,
and escaped with no other inconvenience than excessive fatigue.

On his arrival at the convent the First Consul visited the chapel and the
three little libraries. He had time to read a few pages of an old book,
of which I have forgotten the title.

Our breakfast-dinner was very frugal. The little garden was still
covered with snow, and I said