118 
STATE AGEICULTUKAL SOCIETY. 
Just at eve, while yet the sun was lingering upon the mountain’s icy peak, 
and gilding the river and valley with a soft and mellow light, I came sudden- 
, ly in view of Sallanche, its charming cluster of white houses resting so sweet¬ 
ly in the far-reaching shadow of the mountain above. Another turn in the 
way, and there was Mont Blanc! clothed in his jeweled robes of everlasting 
snow and crowned with ice that shall be his coronet while time endures. And 
there he stands before me now, as it were the throne of Heaven’s Majesty, 
the “ Great White Throne” of his final Judgment! Serene and awful, let 
me be silent in thy presence, 0 Mountain of tlie Almighty (*** 
My last jottings left me still at Saint Martin’s, on the open porch of my 
Franco-English host, looking out wonderingly and with swimminc; eye upon 
the majestic King of the Alps. The very top of the mountain, which, late in 
the afternoon, had glittered with a pure and perfect whiteness, toward even¬ 
ing assumed a golden tint, the glory of which was indescribable. But sud¬ 
denly the sun went down quite behind the grand old mountain, over whose 
shoulder he had been looking and glowing all the late afternoon hours, and 
it was night. For a while, the mountains were dimly seen and distant; but 
gradually the clear white light of the stars illumined their snow-mantled 
summits, and they stood near again, with a new and overawing grandeur. 
When I awoke it was 4 o’clock, and the highest peak of Mont Blanc was 
roseate with the light of the morning. It seemed but a two'hours’ walk to 
his base, and I flattered myself that directly after breakfast I should begin 
the long-anticipated climbing of his snowy slopes. What, then, was my con¬ 
sternation, when mine host assured me that it was not a foot less than 18 
long miles, yet, to Chamouni, where the climbing was fairly to commence ! 
At this rate, it would be after dinner, instead of after breakfast, when I 
might begin the ascent; and so I resolved to start at once, taking breakfast 
on the way. 
Six miles further up the valley, winding my way around the lesser moun¬ 
tains which lay between, refreshed rather than wearied by the walk through 
waving fields of grain'and sweet-smelling clover, fresh with dew, and I came 
to the little village of Chede. Hitherto the road over which I had traveled 
had been a veritable highway, such as any State of the good old Union at 
home might covet. But it was a highway no longer, and if I had come thus 
far in “ diligence ” or carriage, it could have gone no further with safety to 
itself or humanity to the horses or mules. I was glad, therefore, to be a-foot 
and independent. At the end of eight miles, the little village of Servoz, 
near which I breakfasted royally on bread and milk, in a neat little cottage 
by the way. 
Next to the mountains themselves, the objects of most curious interest 
were the human habitations—ofttimes so high above my own dizzy hight, and 
so utterly inaccessible, that a balloon was suggested as the only possible means 
of communication on the part of the humble dwellers there with ihe other 
scattering inhabitants of the mountains. There they were, tucked away, a 
half mile above the wild gorge below, with ice above and snow on either side, 
yet surrounded by little verdant fields and orchard trees in blossom, and ani- 
mated by groups of merry children and the tinkling bells of clambering 
goats. 
* * * At noon, the lovely vale of Chamouni ; where, filled with 
ecstacy and awe, I stood, at last, under the very shadow of the Great Moun¬ 
tain. 
The valley itself is more than three thousand feet above the level of the 
sea, and yet so rich is the verdure of the fields, so perfect and profuse the 
flowers which usually grow in warmer altitudes, that one finds it not difficult 
to fancy himself in the very bosom of sunniest France. 
It was well I had breakfasted heartily at Servoz, for the enthusiasm that 
seized me at the thought of actually standing upon that very Mer de Glace 
(sea of ice), in the midst of those icy peaks, the sight of which I had all my 
life coveted more than the seeing of any other natural object in the world, 
would not for a moment entertain the sordid question of provender. 
“ Would I not dine?” A’b, 1 would not., until my feet had first touched the 
everlasting ice of Mt. Blanc ! My excellent host of the Hotel de Saussure 
