MOi^T BLANC AliTD THE MER DE GLACE. 45 



path which leads us steeply through a mire of sand and 

 dust to the crest of the great lateral moraine, from 

 which we look down a hundred feet upon the billow- 

 ing glacier with a feeling of exultation not unmingled 

 with gratitude. The Mer de Glace is, after all, a mile 

 and a quarter in width at this place; and we feel di- 

 vested of some portion of the contempt with which we 

 greeted its first appearance from the inn at Montanvert. 

 Instead of recrossing the glacier, we descend along 

 the moraine. Soon the sound of water reaches us. Sud- 

 denly we stand in the presence of a most magnificent 

 cascade. The Nant-Blanc, a mountain torrent from a 

 glacier of the same name (lying between Aiguille Verte 

 and Aiguille Bochard), comes literally bounding, skip- 

 ping, leaping, summersaulting down the steep ravine a 

 mile in length, and at last jumps madly ofi' the preci- 

 pice at our right, and, striking on the chaos of rocks, 

 breaks itself into millions of pieces. I have seen no- 

 where a more satisfactory performance of aquatic gym- 

 nastics. Irresistibly one recalls Southey's description 

 of " The way the water comes down at Lodore." 



"Recoiling, tm'moiliug and toiling and boiling 

 And thumping and flumping and bumping and jumping 

 And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing, 

 And so never ending, but always descending, 

 Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending. 

 All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, 

 And this way the water comes down at Lodorc." 



We had seen this torrent of foam from the opposite 

 side, lying upon the steep slope of the mountain like a 

 white line. It is said that sometimes boulders disengaged 

 by the melting ice of the glacier, which feeds the torrent, 



