nity of breakfast and an everlasting afternoon tea."
Hastings at length rescued us from this ignoble sloth, and drove us forth along "Les Ponts" to the Pierre à Béranger. Though the hut has reached the pig-sty stage of existence characteristic of the Chamonix district, we preferred it to the Couvercle, remembering that a roof, like charity, covers a multitude of sins.
At 2 a.m. the sleepers were awakened, the fire was lit, and a somewhat extensive breakfast consumed. Then the knapsack was overhauled and all surplus baggage ruthlessly ejected. These various proceedings consumed much time, and it was not till 3.15 a.m. that we left the hut and began the monotonous ascent of the moraine. Crossing the glacier just as the first signs of dawn became apparent, we once more reached the long bank of loose stones and struggled slowly upwards.
The advent of daylight was a good deal interfered with by the dense masses of vapour that filled the glacier basin and gave much effective aid to the powers of darkness and night. However, before we got much higher, the huge towers of unsubstantial mist were touched by glints of sunshine, and the last lingering gloom was put to flight. We hailed the lifting of the clouds as a good augury, and set ourselves more resolutely to breast the slope. Reaching the high glacier shelf close under the
