thickness. In June, 1842, it was easy to step upon this stone, and Mr. Forbes erected his theodolite upon it, and from its summit made his observations on the movement of the ice at this part of the glacier. But as the season advanced, it changed its appearance remarkably. The waste of ice at the surface caused the glacier to sink all round the stone, while the ice immediately beneath it was protected from the sun and rain, as by an umbrella. The stone thus appeared to rise above the level of the glacier, supported on an elegant pedestal of beautifully veined ice. "Each time I visited it," says Mr. Forbes, "it was more difficult of ascent; and at last, on the 6th August, the pillar of ice was thirteen feet high, and the broad stone so delicately poised on the summit of it (which measured but a few feet in any direction), that it was almost impossible to guess on what it would ultimately fall, although, by the process of the thaw, its fall in the course of the summer was certain." On a still later day, when Mr. Forbes made a sketch of it, "it was," he says, "probably the most beautiful object of the kind to be seen any where in Switzerland. The ice of the pedestal presented the beautiful lamellar structure parallel

to the length of the glacier. During my absence in the end of August, it slipped from its support; and in the month of September it was beginning to rise upon a new one, whilst the unmelted base of the first was still very visible upon the glacier."

Glacier tables are formed only of such thick blocks of stone, as will prevent the heat of the sun from penetrating through: if the slabs are thin, and of a dark colour, a contrary effect is produced; instead of rising, they sink. The solar heat is absorbed so quickly, that it melts the ice beneath, and the stone soon disappears; a leaf wafted by the wind upon the glacier, a dead insect, or a few particles of black sand, will all sink, while blocks as large as a house, and weighing millions of pounds, are thrust up into the air.

Curious cones of sand, called glacier cones, are sometimes met with. They have been seen of so large a size as twenty or thirty feet in height, and eighty or a hundred in circumference. They are formed from the sand of the moraines, which, being washed by the surface-water rills into the deep cavities of the glacier, at length accumulates and chokes up the hole, and, as the ice subsides, a pyramid or cone of sand is left standing.

At the broad part of the glacier at which we have now arrived, we quitted the ice, and began to ascend the steep rock at the foot of the Aiguille du Moine. After much painful climbing, we arrived at a grassy platform, just large enough to accommodate our party of four; and as we were exhausted by the heat, and by this rude essay at mountaineering, we sat down to dine. Our tablecloth was spread near the edge of a precipice a thousand feet deep; behind us rose the Moine, several thousand feet, and before us were the glaciers, and wide fields of snow, and, towering above all, the majestic Mont Blanc. This monarch of mountains was supported by worthy attendants— peaks nearly rivalling him in height, but not in colossal proportions; for none of them had that majestic breadth and repose, which distinguishes this the highest mountain of Europe. We had attained an elevation of nearly ten thousand feet, but the summits before us numbered about five thousand more. The sun was shining brightly upon them, making every thing sharp and distinct, and adding greatly to the inexpressible vastness and solitude of the scene. While thus seated, two eagles suddenly appeared wheeling round in circles, hovering darkly

over us, and evidently looking out for prey; the marmot's shrill cry was sometimes heard from crevices in the rocks; and a few sheep, with beautifully white fleeces, came very near to beg for a supply of salt, which the guides are in the habit of giving them. These poor animals find a scanty pasturage on the wild mountains during a few weeks of summer; and in search of it, they sometimes fall over the precipices, or they meet with a more lingering death from starvation. Lower down there are some really fine pastures, grazed by cows in summer. They are transported over a very difficult part of the glacier, on a kind of rude pathway formed of planks; and about thirty peasants, aided by ropes, compel the poor animals to cross the bridges thus prepared for them.

After resting for about a quarter of an hour, we again started on the ascent, and, after some hard climbing, and a short descent, arrived at a valley still higher, and contributing its icy stream to swell the gelid current of the Mer de Glace. This is the glacier of Telèfre, and in the centre of it is a very large exposed surface of rock, of a triangular form, called the Jardin. To reach it, we had to cross the glacier, and this was the most difficult