MONT BLANC AND THE MER DE GLACE. 25 



the column. Next to the left are the Aiguilles du Midi, 

 and next come the Grandes Jorasses and the Dent du 

 Geant. Some distance below these crystal summits still 

 blazing in sunlight, float fleeces of cloudy drapery, like 

 vestments dropped from the balconies of heaven. In 

 front of this range, and at a lower level, shoot up the 

 pinnacles of the Aiguilles Rouges; and still more in the 

 foreground, wrapped in sunset shadow, rise the Mole, 

 like a pyramid from the plain, the snowy summits of 

 the Aiguilles d'Argentiere and the broad Buet. 



Now pausing to breathe, we notice the long ridge 

 of the Voirons closing in upon the extreme left, as the 

 Great and Little Saleve uplift their rock-ribbed forms 

 upon the right. Still nearer is the dark mass of foliage 

 which shelters the city suburbs and fringes the further 

 border of the lake; and here, immediately before us, 

 stretches lake Leman, clear and placid, whose very name 

 is redolent of poetry, and whose darkening surface is 

 now animated with the movements of a hundred pleas- 

 ui'e-skiffs which 



" Drop the light drip of the suspended oar," 



while their merry occupants drink in the music of each 

 other's souls. 



But while we gaze the twilight shadows thicken. 

 See! Not only are the Mole and the Buet sunken in 

 shadow, but the broad line of night has crept up the 

 snowy flanks of the higher mountains. Their summits 

 ai-e still smiling sunset adieus; but the shadow of Jura 

 glides steadily up the Alps. Lo! now the glory of Mont 

 Blanc is dimmed. An ashy paleness steals insensibly 

 over the gem-lit brow of the mountain monarch. His 



