MONT BLANC AND THE MEE DE GLACE. 39 



make one disheartening observation. This rude monument 

 of stones proclaims the fact that others have preceded 

 us. From what direction, or within what period, no re- 

 cord reveals. This, then, is not the satisfaction of our 

 ambition. Onward to Charmoz! Charmoz stands now at 

 our left. On our front the form of the mountain slopes 

 rapidly down toward the valley of Chamonix. Behind us 

 is the steep slope which we have ascended, and which 

 stretches down to the border of the Mer de Glace. This 

 crest on which we stand is " The Angle," and, ever nar- 

 rowing, leads up to the pillared and snow-flecked heights 

 of Charmoz. That is our direction. But mighty rocks 

 and towering pi'ecipices obstruct our path. Some of the 

 precipices we have to scale. Sometimes we crawl along 

 the face of an escarpment upon a shelf of rock gradu- 

 ally ascending to the summit. Sometimes from such a 

 situation we are compelled to retreat. Could we see each 

 other in these hazardous attitudes, I fear we should be 

 led to practice eloquently the ai't of dissuasion; and could 

 those patient ladies, pressing Alpine flowers at Montanvert, 

 be once endowed with the gift of clairvoyance, I am sure 

 that some of us would make excuses to return. 



But adventure acts as an intoxicant. We often per- 

 form deeds without fear, the very thought of which after- 

 ward produces ^ shudder. We have the madness not 

 the malady of the mountains. And so we continue to 

 climb toward Charmoz. Ice on the right hand; ice on 

 the left ; clouds above us and clouds below. The ragged 

 crest grows narrower, its downward slopes more precipi- 

 tous. Charmoz is in front of us and winks approval of 

 our hardihood. Stiff-necked, haughty pinnacle, uplifted in 

 the serene air! what power upbore you to that un- 



