accompanied by four guides, four
porters, and a crowd of peasants, among whom was a Tyrolean. All sang
merrily as they marched forth, but those who remained looked sadly after
us. It was the 10th of June, 1855.

"We marched without any attempt at order, and the people of Grindelwald
carried our baggage as a relief to our porters. The sun was burning. The
peasants took leave of us as soon as we struck the path which creeps up
the Mettenberg, skirting the 'sea of ice.' Only the Tyrolean,
accompanied by his young guide, remained with us. He said that curiosity
impelled him to follow us as long as he could, that he might form some
idea of the way in which we were going to get out of the affair. He sang
like the rest of the caravan, his strong voice rising above all.

"It was the first time I had seen the immense glacier popularly called
'La Mer de Glace.' Through the green curtains of the pinewoods, I gazed
upon the masses rising from the gulf, the depths of which are
azure-tinted, while the surface is covered with dirt and blocks of snow.
The spectacle, however, did not impress me greatly, whether because I
was absorbed in the thought of gaining the very summit of the Alps, or
because my imagination felt some disappointment in finding the reality
far beneath what it had figured.

"I descended from my sedan-chair when we arrived at an imprint in the
marble rock known as 'Martinsdruck.' The gigantic peaks of the
Schreckhorn, the Eiger, the Kischhorn, rose around us, almost
overwhelming us with their grandeur. To the right, the Mittelegi, a spur
of the Eiger, elevated its bare and polished sides. Suddenly the songs
ceased, and my travelling companions uttered those exclamations,
familiar to Alpine populations, which re-echoed from rock to rock. They
had caught sight of a hunter, gliding phantom-like along the steep
ascent of the Mittelegi, like a swallow lost in space. But in vain they
pursued him with cries and questions; he continued to move silently
along the black rock.

"At length we descended upon the glacier. They had abandoned me to my
own resources, probably to judge of my address. I was more at ease in my
clothes, and with a sure step I advanced upon the snow, striding across
the crevasses which separated the different strata of ice. By accident,
rather than by reflection, I looked out for the spots of snow and there
planted my feet. Later I learned that this is always the safest route,
and never leads one into