92 Notes of the Month on [July, 



In this world everything improves. The monkeys in the Zoological 

 Museum, in Bruton-street, have advanced so much in good manners by 

 the perpetual attentions of the fair and the fashionable, that, on the 

 motion of the Marquis of Worcester, they are to be provided with a 

 dancing-master ; and strong hopes are entertained, that during the 

 vacation, they will make such progress as to have an engagement at the 

 Opera House as premiers snjets for the next season. Davies Gilbert too 

 has made a step, and appears to shave for the Royal Society nights. 

 But the chief improvement has taken place at the Royal Institution, for 

 now their coffee is growing absolutely drinkable. Nothing could be 

 more prejudicial to the public taste for the sublime in science, than the 

 ispecies of refreshment which distinguished the former seasons. Its com- 

 pound would have defied the keenest analyzation of Professor Faraday, 

 assisted by Professor Brande, in his happiest hours of philosophy. Even 

 now the rush made by the rabble of medical persons, whom we always 

 observe to be foremost where anything is to be devoured, is perfectly 

 savage ; and but in the hope that some of those grim servitors of death 

 will yet be choked in an attempt to swallow the cup as well as the 

 coffee, we should protest against their being suffered within sight of 

 anything that could go down the larynx. The more decent way would 

 probably be, to have the trays handed round the benches, to make the 

 refreshment a committee affair of the whole house, and extinguish the 

 odious monopoly of forty cups in the gastric region of one rapacious 

 individual. 



The most interesting night of the late season was the lecture or narra- 

 tive, given by Dr. Clarke of his ascent of ]\Iont Blanc in 1825. Dr. 

 Clarke led his audience from Geneva to the summit, detailing the en- 

 terprise, which, however, he considers not by any means so dangerous as 

 has been represented. At 9,000 feet above the level of the Mediterra- 

 nean the air becomes extremely rarified, and the sky exliibits a blue- 

 black appearance. He does not consider it at all safe for persons to 

 attempt the ascent having a tendency to apoplexy, for at the height of 

 15,000 feet above the level of the sea, the extremely rarified state of the 

 air, as well as the almost unbearable oppression of the sun's rays, though 

 surrounded with snow, would increase that tendency to an alarming 

 extent. So oppressive is the sun, that on sitting down in the shade he 

 was asleep instantly. The passage, just above the Grande Plateau (a 

 surface of ice and snow, many acres in extent, 10,000 feet above the level 

 of the sea) is a point of great difficulty. This chink is about seven feet 

 wide and of immeasurable depth. To get over it the guides first pro- 

 ceed to render the passage more easy. He cautions travellers to pay 

 implicit attention to guides, as the accident in 1822, when three persons 

 sunk into the caverns of snow, was occasioned by this Avant of caution. 

 It is appalling, said iJr. Clarke, to be carried over an abyss of unknown ^ 

 depth, slung upon cords and drawn over. On arriving at the summit of 

 Mont Blanc the toils are amply repaid. Language cannot depict the 

 scene before the traveller. The eye wanders over immeasurable space. 

 The sky appears to recede, and the vision possesses double power. The 

 Alpine scenery here is awfully grand, and the alternate thaw and freezing 

 (for when the sun is down it freezes rapidly) produces the most gro- 

 tesque figures. The only living creature found on the summit of 

 Mont Blanc is a small white butterfly (the ansonia^, which flits over the 

 snow. The chamois is found 10,000 feet above the level of the sea; 



