comforting assurances relative to the possibilities of dinner, we gave ourselves up to the oontemplation of the shining sun and the knotted ridges of the Buet. Gradually the harder lines and sharper contrasts were softened and etherealised by those vague mists and wondrous visions that ever hover on the verge of sleep. Some of us, indeed, fell utter victims to the drowsy god.
The next morning we started at 12.40 a.m., our party being strengthened by the addition of a full-grown porter to carry the sack, and a small boy to instruct the full-grown one in the mysteries of the path. We ascended mule tracks and foot tracks, moraines and ice, these latter being varied by an occasional deflection on to the slopes at the side of the glacier. After a somewhat weary pilgrimage we emerged on to the smooth and even ice, and were able to tramp quickly towards the great wall by which it is enclosed. Lowering clouds, sailing swiftly before a south-westerly gale, aroused painful thoughts, and we declaimed on the vanity of early starts and the ignominy of returning to the Montenvers a second time wet and beaten. Soon after daybreak, a suggestion concerning breakfast was received with enthusiasm. We accordingly made our way to a small sérac, behind which we were partly sheltered from the wind.
It is needless to say we had many courses; beginning with Yorkshire bacon, we pursued our way amidst the delights of rolls and butter, of
