50 SPARKS FROM A GEOLOGIST'S HAMMER, 



majestic, lofty, silent and serene. Its ponderous form 

 reaches downward into the evening obscurity of the val- 

 ley. The- boundary line between the light and shade is 

 concealed by a belt of carmine-tinted clouds, sleeping 

 lazily on the bosom of the mountain. The effect is to 

 isolate the glorious heights from the dusky terrene land- 

 scapes lying below. The mountain rests in its frame of 

 clouds, as beautiful as Clytie in her sunflower. Its snowy 

 surface gleams with a luster of brilliant silvery white- 

 ness. But while we gaze we discern a change. It is like 

 the changes which pass over the aspects of the heavenly 

 bodies. The sable brush of night has dulled the roseate 

 tinge of the wreath of clouds. A golden yellow film has 

 been drawn over the silvery whiteness of the mountains. 

 Now a rosy flush displaces the tint of gold, as if some 

 evening camp-fire had been lighted to replace the warmth 

 of the retiring sun. Sooner than our thought, a cerulean 

 tint steals over the scene, which, dissolving with the red, 

 throws over the gigantic form of the mountain a robe of 

 imperial purple. But immediately the luster of the purple 

 mantle fades into a dusky, silver-gray; then an ashy pale- 

 ness flits for an instant over the scene, and the light of 

 day has left Mont Blanc to his proper complexion, a 

 pure snow-whiteness veiled in evening shadow, and rest- 

 ing against the deep cerulean beyond. 



The glacier which we have visited presents still one 

 scene of impressive and suggestive grandeur. We must 

 visit the glacier at its termination. Devoting an after- 

 noon to the trip, we find the little hamlet des Bois situ- 

 ated at the foot of the stupendous terminal moraine, the 

 outer slope of which is occupied by scattered firs. Pass- 

 ing through an opening excavated by the Arveiron, which 



