to land. Small heathers, rosy and white,
peeped out timidly above the lingering snow, and seemed to smile
at the little heat they received. The thermometer at last rose
above zero.

Twenty miles off, the ice masses, entirely separated, floated
towards the Atlantic Ocean. Though the sea was not quite free
around the ship, channels opened by which Louis Cornbutte wished
to profit.

On the 21st of May, after a parting visit to his father's grave,
Louis at last set out from the bay. The hearts of the honest
sailors were filled at once with joy and sadness, for one does
not leave without regret a place where a friend has died. The
wind blew from the north, and favoured their departure. The ship
was often arrested by ice-banks, which were cut with the saws;
icebergs not seldom confronted her, and it was necessary to blow
them up with powder. For a month the way was full of perils,
which sometimes brought the ship to the verge of destruction; but
the crew were sturdy, and used to these dangerous exigencies.
Penellan, Pierre Nouquet, Turquiette, Fidele Misonne, did the
work of ten sailors, and Marie had smiles of gratitude for each.

The "Jeune-Hardie" at last passed beyond the ice in the latitude
of Jean-Mayer Island. About the 25th of June she met ships going
northward for seals and whales. She had been nearly a month
emerging from the Polar Sea.

On the 16th of August she came in view of Dunkirk. She had been
signalled by the look-out, and the whole population flocked to
the jetty. The sailors of the ship were soon clasped in the arms
of their friends. The old cure received Louis Cornbutte and Marie
with patriarchal arms, and of the two masses which he said on the
following day, the first was for the repose of Jean Cornbutte's
soul, and the second to bless these two lovers, so long united in
misfortune.

[Illustration: The old cure received Louis Cornbutte and Marie.]

THE FORTIETH FRENCH ASCENT OF MONT BLANC

BY PAUL VERNE.

I arrived at Chamonix on the 18th of August, 1871, fully decided
to make the ascent of Mont Blanc, cost what it might. My first
attempt in August, 1869, was not successful. Bad weather had
prevented me from mounting beyond the Grands-Mulets. This time
circumstances seemed scarcely more favourable, for the weather,
which had promised to be fine on the morning of the 18th,
suddenly changed towards noon. Mont Blanc, as they say in its
neighbourhood, "put on its cap and began to smoke