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A VISIT TO THE GREAT ST. BERNARD, 



IN THE AUTUMN OP 1833. 



THE ascent of the St. Bernard occupies generally a period of about 

 ten hours ; it is merely, what it has been called, " a secondary Alpine 

 pass." There are, of course, objects of considerable interest on the 

 route (for in what part of Switzerland are there none ?) ; and, besides 

 peculiar attractions, the scenery here partakes of that majestic cha- 

 racter, which will be found more or less to distinguish all moun- 

 tainous districts. Here, to be sure, are not the glaciers of Cha- 

 mouni, or of the Oberland ; but the eye lingers on many an Alpine 

 torrent, hurrying from mountain to rock, and from rock to hill ; with 

 some, the amazing volumes of water come thundering at once down 

 some declivity, rising again in the purest vapour ; while others come 

 frothing over ledges of rock thousands of feet in elevation ; and you 

 may see rainbows, coming and going with the sun, sit hovering in its 

 spray. There, too, on the hill-side, repose the huge pines and 

 mighty timbers, all rotting together in confusion, where they have 

 been prostrated by the storm ; and on every side are to be seen 

 gigantic masses of rock, the natural supports of which having been 

 undermined by ages, they have been precipitated by their own 

 weight, and slid off bodily into the vale below. Now and then, too, 

 a report from the rifle of the chamois-hunter breaks smartly upon the 

 ear, re-echoed from a hundred points; and sometimes, though of 

 course more rarely, the hunter himself may be seen descending from 

 the heights, in the dress peculiar to his vocation, and with the 

 animal he has killed swung around the body. Even the numerous 

 goats, and the stray cattle with their enormous bells, bring with them 

 the interest of association, adding life to the solitary grandeur of 

 such a scene ; and not unfrequently the imperial eagle of the Alps, 

 that terror of the goatherd, darts forth into view from his lofty re- 

 treat, or sails impudently about your path. 



About half way lies the hamlet of St. Pierre ; here it is usual for 

 the traveller to seize the only opportunity that offers of rest and re- 

 freshment, unless, indeed, a desolate hovel; which the avarice of some 

 individual has erected still higher up in the mountains, can be called 

 a place of entertainment. On quitting St. Pierre, you begin to feel 

 the real mountain air, and to wrap your cloak more closely around 

 you, for the elevation is already considerable, and becomes every 

 moment progressively greater. Beyond this point, too, the path is 

 more liable to be missed, as the great landmarks of mountains on 

 either side 110 longer serve as guides, and preclude the wandering of 

 travellers. The great danger now is the concealment of the track by 

 snow, for if there be any foul weather in this cold region, it will of 

 course be a snow-storm ; and now, at last, the head of the mountain 

 is itself visible, towering some thousands of feet above the clouds, if 

 clouds there should unluckily be ; but if it could be seen as I saw it, 

 on the clearest of Octobers days, with its snows beautifully set against 

 a deep-blue sky in the back-ground perhaps nature could not pre- 



M.M. No. 100. 3K 



