48 SPARKS FROM A GEOLOGIST'S HAMMER. 



the Glacier des Bois from the Chapeau, the whole aspect 

 of its surface is wild and chaotic beyond expression. Im- 

 mense boulders lie scattered up and down, and the whole 

 surface is gray with gravel and sediment. Here and 

 there large pools of water have accumulated in the de- 

 pressions of the ice, and numerous streams descend into 

 the depths of the crevasses, gurgling, rumbling and 

 rushing on to join the great trunk drain of the valley. 

 We stand and gaze with admiring amazement at the tre- 

 mendous features of this icy melee. We ask the glacier's 

 pardon again for our depreciatory greeting. 



The Chapeau is found hanging on the cliffs at the foot 

 of the Mauvais Pas. It is a mere cave-like recess under 

 an overhanging rock. Here is a beautiful spring, which 

 is utilized by the occupants of a miserable cabin, a cabin 

 not too miserable to extend its oifer of rafraichissements 

 to the passing tourist. 



At the Chapeau we strike a path practicable for mules. 

 After traversing a forest of firs (Bois du Bouchet), we 

 burst upon an outlook as charming as it is unexpected. 

 Mont Blanc and his companions stand out in sunset illu- 

 mination, presenting a spectacle different from any yet 

 witnessed. We are still several hundred feet elevated above 

 the vale of Chamonix. On the side opposite us rise the 

 Flegere and the Brevent, and back of these the Aiguilles 

 Rouges. The shadow of these mountains has spread its 

 gray mantle over the valley, but the silver forms of the 

 monarch domes on the side facing the declining sun 

 are dazzling in a radiance which is brilliant but majestic- 

 ally serene. Glancing up the valley of the glacier, the 

 white pinnacles of ice first arrest the eye, and then it 

 rises to the illumined spires of Aiguilles du Dru, de 



