THE GEYSERS.

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“Still pressing on beneath Tornea’s lake,And Hecla flaming through a waste of snow,And farthest Greenland, to the pole itself,Where, falling gradual, life at length goes out,The Muse expands her solitary flight;And hov’ring o’er the wide stupendous scene,Beholds new scenes beneath another sky.Throned in his palace of cerulean ice,Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court,And through his airy hall the loud misruleOf driving tempest is forever heard;Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath;Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost,Molds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows.”

“Still pressing on beneath Tornea’s lake,

And Hecla flaming through a waste of snow,

And farthest Greenland, to the pole itself,

Where, falling gradual, life at length goes out,

The Muse expands her solitary flight;

And hov’ring o’er the wide stupendous scene,

Beholds new scenes beneath another sky.

Throned in his palace of cerulean ice,

Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court,

And through his airy hall the loud misrule

Of driving tempest is forever heard;

Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath;

Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost,

Molds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows.”

On proceeding along the southern coast of Iceland, and at an inconsiderable distance from Skalholt, Mount Hecla, with its three summits, presents itself to the view. Its hight is five thousand feet, or nearly a mile above the level of the sea. It is not a promontory, but lies about four miles inland. It is neither so elevated nor so picturesque as several of the surrounding Icelandic mountains; but has been more noticed than many other volcanoes of an equal extent, partly through the frequency of its eruptions, and partly from its situation, which exposes it to the view of many ships sailing to Greenland and North America. The surrounding territory has been so devastated by these eruptions, that it has been deserted.

“Vast regions dreary, bleak and bare!There on an icy mountain’s hight,Seen only by the moon’s pale lightStern Winter rears his giant form,His robe a mist, his life a storm:His frown the shiv’ring nations fly,And, hid for half the year, in smoky caverns lie.”

“Vast regions dreary, bleak and bare!

There on an icy mountain’s hight,

Seen only by the moon’s pale light

Stern Winter rears his giant form,

His robe a mist, his life a storm:

His frown the shiv’ring nations fly,

And, hid for half the year, in smoky caverns lie.”

MOUNT HECLA AND THE GEYSERS.

The natives assert that it is impossible to ascend the mountain, on account of the great number of dangerous bogs, which, according to them, are constantly emitting sulphurous flames and exhaling smoke; while the more elevated summit in the center is covered with boiling springs and large craters, which continually propel fire and smoke. To the south and west the environs present the most desolating results of frequent eruptions, the finest part of the territory being covered by torrents of melted stone, sand, ashes, and other volcanic matter; notwithstanding which, between the sinuosities of the lava in different parts, some portion of meadows, walls and broken hedges may be observed. The devastation is still greater on the north and east sides, which present dreadful traces of the ruin of the country and its habitations. Neither plants nor grass are to be met with to the extent of two leagues round the mountain, in consequence of the soil being covered with stones and lava; and in some parts, where the subterraneous fire has broken out a second time, or where the matter which was not entirely consumed has again become ignited, the fire has contributed to form small red and black hillocks and eminences, from scoriæ, pumice-stones and ashes. The nearer the mountain the larger are these hillocks, and there are some of them, the summits of which form a circular hollow, whence the subterraneous fire ejects the matter. On approaching Heclathe ground becomes almost impassable, particularly near the higher branches of lava thrown from the volcano. Round the latter is a mountain of lava, consisting of large fused stones, from forty to seventy feet high, and in the form of a rampart or wall. These stones are detached, and chiefly covered with moss; while between them are very deep holes, so that the ascent on the western side requires great circumspection. The rocks are completely reduced to pumice, dispersed in thin horizontal layers, and fractured in every direction, from which some idea may be formed of the intensity of the fire that has acted on them.

“There Winter, armed with terrors here unknown,Sits absolute on his unshaken throne;Piles up his stores amidst the frozen waste,And bids the mountains he has built stand fast;Beckons the legions of his storms awayFrom happier scenes to make the land a prey;Proclaims the soil a conquest he has won,And scorns to share it with the distant sun.”

“There Winter, armed with terrors here unknown,

Sits absolute on his unshaken throne;

Piles up his stores amidst the frozen waste,

And bids the mountains he has built stand fast;

Beckons the legions of his storms away

From happier scenes to make the land a prey;

Proclaims the soil a conquest he has won,

And scorns to share it with the distant sun.”

Sir Joseph Banks, Dr. Solander, Dr. James Lind, of Edinburgh, and Dr. Van Troil, a Swede, were the earliest adventurous travelers who ascended to the summit of Mount Hecla. This was in 1772; and the attempt was facilitated by a preceding eruption in 1766, which had greatly diminished the steepness and difficulty of the ascent. On their first landing, they found a tract of land sixty or seventy miles in extent, entirely ruined by lava, which appeared to have been in a state of complete liquefaction. To accomplish their undertaking, they had to travel from three hundred to three hundred and sixty miles over uninterrupted tracts of lava. In ascending, they were obliged to quit their horses at the first opening from which the fire had burst: a spot, which they describe as presenting lofty glazed walls and high glazed cliffs, differing from anything they had ever seen before. At another opening above, they fancied they discerned the effects of boiling water; and not far from thence, the mountain, with the exception of some bare spots, was covered with snow. The difference of aspect they soon perceived to be occasioned by the hot vapor ascending from the mountain. The higher they proceeded, the larger these spots became; and, about two hundred yards below the summit, a hole about a yard and a half in diameter, was observed, whence issued so hot a stream, that they could not measure the degree of heat with a thermometer. The cold now began to be very intense. Fahrenheit’s thermometer, which at the foot of the mountain was at fifty-four degrees, fell to twenty-four degrees; while the wind became so violent, that they were sometimes obliged to lie down, from adread of being blown into the most dreadful precipices. On the summit itself they experienced, at one and the same time, a high degree of heat and cold; for, in the air, Fahrenheit’s thermometer constantly stood at twenty-four degrees, but when placed on the ground, it rose to one hundred and fifty-three degrees.

Messrs. Olafsen and Povelsen, two naturalists, whose travels in Iceland were undertaken by order of his Danish majesty, after a fatiguing journey up several small slopes, which occurred at intervals, and seven of which they had to pass, at length reached the summit of Mount Hecla at midnight. It was as light as at noonday, so that they had a view of an immense extent, but could perceive nothing but ice; neither fissures, streams of water, boiling springs, smoke, nor fire, were apparent. They surveyed the glaciers in the eastern part, and in the distance saw the high and square mountain of Hærdabreid, an ancient volcano, which appeared like a large castle.

Sir G. S. Mackenzie, in his travels in Iceland, ascended Mount Hecla; and from his account we extract the following interesting particulars. In proceeding to the southern extremity of the mountain, he descended, by a dangerous path, into a valley, having a small lake in one corner, and the opposite extremity bounded by a perpendicular face of rock, resembling, in its broken and rugged appearance, a stream of lava. While advancing, the sun suddenly broke through the clouds, and the brilliant reflection of his beams, from different parts of this supposed lava, as if from a surface of glass, delighted our traveler by the instantaneous conviction that he had now attained one of the principal objects connected with the plan of his expedition to Iceland. He hastened to the spot, and all his wishes were fully accomplished in the examination of an object which greatly exceeded the expectations he had formed. On ascending one of the abrupt pinnacles, which rose out of this extraordinary mass of rock, he beheld a region, the desolation of which can scarcely be paralleled. Fantastic groups of hills, craters, and lava, leading the eye to distant snow-crowned “jockuls,” (inferior mountains,) the mist rising from a waterfall; lakes, embosomed among bleak mountains; an awful profound silence; lowering clouds; marks all around of the furious action of the most destructive of elements; all combined to impress the soul with sensations of dread and wonder. The longer he and his companions contemplated this scene, the more unable they were to turn their eyes from it; and a considerable time elapsed before they could bring themselves to attend to the business which had tempted them to enter so frightful a district of the country.

Having proceeded a considerable distance along the edge of a stream of lava, a narrow part of which they crossed, they gained the foot of the southend of Mount Hecla. While, in ascending, they had to pass over rugged lava, they experienced no great difficulty in advancing; but when they reached the steepest part of the mountain, which was covered with loose slags, they sometimes lost at one step by the yielding of these, a space which had been gained by several.

Having passed a number of fissures, by leaping across some, and stepping along masses of slags which lay over others, they at length reached the summit of the first peak. The clouds now became so thick, that they began to despair of being able to proceed any further: it was, indeed, dangerous even to move; for the peak consists of a very narrow ridge of slags, not more than two feet broad, having a precipice on each side, several hundred feet in depth. One of these precipices forms the side of a vast hollow, which seems to have been one of the craters. At length the sky cleared a little, and enabled them to discover a ridge below, which seemed to connect the peak they had ascended with the middle or principal one. They lost no time in availing themselves of this opportunity, and, by balancing themselves like rope-dancers, succeeded in passing along a ridge of slags, so narrow that there was scarcely room for their feet. After a short, but very steep ascent, they gained the highest part of this celebrated mountain.

Its earliest eruption is said to have happened in 1004, since which time upward of twenty have occurred. That of 1693 was the most dreadful, and occasioned terrible devastations, the ashes having been thrown over the island in every direction, to the distance of more than one hundred miles. In 1728, a fire broke out among the surrounding lava; and also in that to the west of the volcano, in 1754, which lasted for three days. There has not been any eruption of lava since 1766; but for some years after, flames issued from the volcano.

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“Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still,Though oft amid th’ irriguous vale of springs;But to the mountain courted by the sand,That leads it darkling on in faithful maze,Far from the parent main, it boils again!Fresh into day; and all the glittering hillIs bright with spouting rills.The crystal treasures of the liquid world,Through the stirred sands a bubbling passage burst;And welling out, around the middle steep,Or from the bottoms of the bosomed hills,In pure effusion flow.”—Thomson.

“Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still,

Though oft amid th’ irriguous vale of springs;

But to the mountain courted by the sand,

That leads it darkling on in faithful maze,

Far from the parent main, it boils again!

Fresh into day; and all the glittering hill

Is bright with spouting rills.

The crystal treasures of the liquid world,

Through the stirred sands a bubbling passage burst;

And welling out, around the middle steep,

Or from the bottoms of the bosomed hills,

In pure effusion flow.”—Thomson.

These celebrated fountains, or hot spouting water springs, being nearly connected with the operations of subterraneous fire, so visible in every part of Iceland, may be properly introduced after the description of Mount Hecla, given above.

They are seldom very near the volcanoes, but are dispersed over the whole country, and are even to be found on the summits of several of the ice mountains. The largest and most remarkable of these is situated in a large field, about sixteen miles to the north of Skalholt. At a great distance from it, on one side, are high mountains covered with ice, and on the other Hecla is seen rising above the clouds, while opposite to it is a ridge of rocks, at the foot of which water from time to time rushes forth. At the distance of a mile and a half, a loud roaring noise is heard, like that of a torrent precipitated from stupendous rocks, each ejection being accompanied by violent subterraneous detonations. The depth of the opening from which the water rushes, has not been ascertained; but some seconds elapse before a stone thrown in reaches the surface. The Danish traveler, Olafsen, asserts, that the water rises as high as sixty fathoms: while Van Troil estimates the highest jet at not more than sixty feet: the latter allows, however, that the jets may be more elevated, particularly in bad weather. The greatness of the explosive power is evinced by its not only preventing stones thrown in from sinking, but even forcing them up to a very great hight, together with the water, and splitting the pebbles into a thousand pieces. The heat was found by Van Troil to be two hundred and twelve degrees of Fahrenheit, the boiling point. The edges of the pipe or basin are covered by a coarse stalactitic rind, and the water has been found to have a petrifying quality. The opening is perfectly circular, in diameter nineteen feet, and forms above, on the surface of the ground, a basin fifty-nine feet in diameter, the edge of which is nine feet above the orifice or hole.

In speaking of the Geysers, or hot spouting springs, Horrebow observes, that if you fill a bottle at one of them, the water it contains will boil three or four times, at the same time with the water in the well. The inhabitants boil their meat in it, by putting the meat in a vessel of cold water, which they place in the hot spring.

Sir G. S. Mackenzie, whose travels in Iceland we have already cited, visited the Geysers at a season favorable to his observations, the latter end of July. He found the cultivation of the surrounding territory much higher than might have been inferred from the idea generally entertained of the barren and unproductive state of Iceland. All the flat ground in that quarter of the island was swampy, but not so much so as to impede the progress of the party, who, having passed several hot springs to the eastwardof Skalholt, and others rising among the low hills they had left to the right, in proceeding to the great Geyser, came to a farm-house, situated on a rising ground in the midst of the bogs. Here the people were busily employed in making hay, a scene which afforded a pleasing change from the dreary solitude they had quitted. The whole of this extensive district, which abounds in grass, would, if drained, our traveler observes, prove a very rich pasture country. Farther on they came to several cottages at the foot of the mountain, round which they turned, and came in sight of the hill having the Geysers at one of its sides. This hill, in hight not more than three hundred feet, is separated from the mountain, toward the west, by a narrow slip of flat boggy ground, connected with that which extends over the whole valley. Having crossed this bog, and a small river which ran through it, the party came to a farm-house at the east end of the hill, and arrived at a spot where the most wonderful and awful effects of subterraneous heat are exhibited.

On the east side of the hill there are several banks of clay, from some of which steam rises in different places; and in others there are cavities, in which water boils briskly. In a few of these cavities, the water being mixed with clay, is thick and varies in color; but is chiefly red and gray. Below these banks there is a gentle and uniform slope, composed of matter which, at some distant period, has been deposited by springs which no longer exist. The strata or beds thus formed, seemed to have been broken by shocks of earthquakes, particularly near the great Geyser. Within a space not exceeding a quarter of a mile, numerous orifices are seen in the old incrustations, from which boiling water and steam issue, with different degrees of force. At the northern extremity is situated the great Geyser, sufficiently distinguishable from the others by every circumstance connected with it. On approaching this spot, it appeared that a mount had been formed of irregular, rough-looking depositions, upon the ancient regular strata, the origin of which had been similar. The slope of the latter has caused the mount to spread more on the east side; and the recent depositions of the water may be traced till they coincide with them. The perpendicular hight of the mount is about seven feet, measured from the highest part of the surface of the old depositions. From these the matter composing the mount may be readily distinguished, on the west side, where a disruption has taken place. On the top of this mount is a basin, which was found to extend fifty-six feet in one direction, and forty-six in another.

At a quarter before three o’clock in the afternoon, when the party reached the spot, they found the basin full of hot water, a little of which was running over. Having satisfied their curiosity at that time, they proceeded to examine some other places, whence they saw water ascending. Abovethe great Geyser, at a short distance, they came to a large irregular opening, the beauties of which, the writer observes, it is hardly possible to describe. The water with which it was filled was as clear as crystal, and perfectly still, although nearly at the boiling point. Through it they saw white incrustations, forming a variety of figures and cavities, to a great depth, and carrying the eye into a vast and dark abyss, over which the crust supporting them formed a dome of an inconsiderable thickness; a circumstance which though not of itself agreeable, contributed much to the effects of this awful scene.

Having pitched their tent at the distance of about one hundred yards from the Geyser, and so arranged matters that a regular watch might be kept during the night, Sir G. S. Mackenzie took his station at eleven o’clock, and his companions lay down to sleep. About ten minutes before twelve he heard subterraneous discharges, and waked his friends. The water in the basin was greatly agitated, and flowed over, but there was not any jet. The same occurred at half past two. At five minutes past four on Saturday morning, an alarm was given by one of the company. As our traveler lay next the door of the tent, he instantly drew aside the canvas, when at the distance of little more than fifty yards, a most extraordinary and magnificent appearance presented itself. From a place they had not before noticed, they saw water thrown up, and steam issuing with a tremendous noise. There was little water; but the force with which the steam escaped, produced a white column of spray and vapor, at least sixty feet high. They enjoyed this astonishing and beautiful sight until seven o’clock, when it gradually disappeared.

The remaining part of the morning was occupied in examining the environs of the Geysers; and at every step they received some new gratification. Following the channel which had been formed by the water escaping from the great basin during the eruptions, they found several beautiful and delicate petrifactions. The leaves of birch and willow were seen converted into white stone, and in the most perfect state of preservation, every minute fiber being entire. Grass and rushes were in the same state, and also masses of peat. Several of these rare and elegant specimens were brought safely to Great Britain. On the outside of the mount of the Geyser, the depositions, owing to the splashing of the water, are rough and have been justly compared to the heads of cauliflowers. They are of a yellowish brown color, and are arranged around the mount, somewhat like a circular flight of steps. The inside of the basin is comparatively smooth: and the matter forming it is more compact and dense than the exterior crust; when polished it is not devoid of beauty, being of a gray color, mottled with blackandandwhite spots and streaks. The white incrustation formed by the water of the beautiful cavity before described, had taken a very curious form at the water’s edge, very much resembling the capital of a Gothic column.

This mountain of Iceland, distant about three miles from the village of Krisuvik, presents a phenomenon very different from the one which has just been described,viz., that of aCALDRON OF BOILING MUD. We extract the following particulars of this singular curiosity from the relation given by Sir G. S. Mackenzie in his travels in Iceland.

At the foot of the mountain is a small bank, composed chiefly of white clay and sulphur, from every part of which steam issues. Having ascended this bank, a ridge presents itself, immediately beneath which is a deep hollow, whence a profusion of vapor arises, with a confused noise of boiling and splashing, accompanied by steam escaping from narrow crevices in the rock. This hollow, as well as the whole side of the mountain opposite, being covered with sulphur and clay, it was very hazardous to walk over a soft and steaming surface of such a description. The vapor concealing the party from each other occasioned much uneasiness; and there was some hazard of the crust of sulphur breaking, or of the clay sinking beneath their feet. They were thus several times in danger of being scalded, as indeed, happened to one of the party, Mr. Bright, who accidentally plunged one of his legs into the hot clay. When the thermometer was immersed in it, to the depth of a few inches, it generally rose to within a few degrees of the boiling point. By stepping cautiously, and avoiding every little hole from which steam issued, they soon ascertained how far they might venture. Their good fortune, however, Sir George observes, ought not to tempt any person to examine this wonderful place, without being provided with two boards, with which every part of the banks may be traversed in perfect safety. At the bottom of the hollow, above described, they found the caldron of mud, which boiled with the utmost vehemence. They approached within a few yards of it, the wind favoring them in viewing every part of this singular scene. The mud was in constant agitation, and often thrown up to the hight of six or eight feet. Near this spot was an irregular space filled with water, boiling briskly. At the foot of the hill, in a hollow formed by a bank of clay and sulphur, steam rushed with great force and noise from among the loose fragments of rock.

In ascending the mountain, our travelers met with a spring of cold water, which was little to be expected in such a place. At a greater elevation,they came to a ridge, composed entirely of sulphur and clay, joining two summits of the mountain. The smooth crust of sulphur was beautifully crystallized; and beneath it was a quantity of loose granular sulphur, which appeared to be collecting and crystallizing, as it was sublimed along with the steam. On removing the sulphurous crust, steam issued, and annoyed the party so much, that they could not examine this place to any depth.

Beneath the ridge, on the farther side of this great bed of sulphur, an abundance of vapor escaped with a loud noise. Having crossed to the side of the mountain opposite, they walked to what is called the principal spring. This was a task of much apparent danger, as the side of the mountain to the extent of about half a mile, was covered with loose clay, into which the feet of our travelers sunk at every step. In many places there was a thin crust, beneath which the clay was wet, and extremely hot. Good fortune attended them; and without any serious inconvenience, they reached the object they had in view. A dense column of steam, mixed with a small portion of water, forced its way impetuously through a crevice in a rock, at the head of a narrow valley, or break in the mountain. The violence with which it rushed out was so great, that the noise, thus occasioned, might often be heard at the distance of several miles. During the night while the party lay in their tent at Krisuvik, they more than once listened to it with mingled awe and astonishment. Behind the column of vapor was a dark-colored rock, which added to the sublimity of the effect.

“It is quite beyond my power,” observes Sir George Mackenzie, “to offer such a description of this extraordinary place, as would convey adequate ideas of its wonders, or of its terrors. The sensations of a person, even of firm nerves, standing on a support which feebly sustains him, over an abyss where, literally, fire and brimstone are in dreadful and incessant action; having before his eyes tremendous proofs of what is going on beneath him; enveloped in thick vapors; his ears stunned with thundering noises—must be experienced before they can be understood.”

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“When mid the lifeless summits proudOf Alpine cliffs, where to the gelid skySnows piled on snows in wint’ry torpor lie,The rays divine of vernal Phœbus play;Th’ awakened heaps, in streamlets from on high,Roused into action, lively leap away,Glad warbling through the vales, in their new being gay.”—Thomson.

“When mid the lifeless summits proud

Of Alpine cliffs, where to the gelid sky

Snows piled on snows in wint’ry torpor lie,

The rays divine of vernal Phœbus play;

Th’ awakened heaps, in streamlets from on high,

Roused into action, lively leap away,

Glad warbling through the vales, in their new being gay.”—Thomson.

MONT BLANC AND THE GLACIERS.

This mountain, in Switzerland, so named on account of its white aspect, belongs to the great central chain of the Alps. It is truly gigantic, and is the most elevated mountain in Europe, rising no less than fifteen thousand, eight hundred and seventy-two feet, somewhat more than three miles, above the level of the sea, and fourteen thousand, six hundred and twenty-four feet above the lake of Geneva, in its vicinity. It is encompassed by those wonderful collections of snow and ice, called glaciers, two of the principal of which, are called Mont Dolent and Triolet. The highest part of Mont Blanc, named the Dromedary, is in the shape of a compressed hemisphere. From that point it sinks gradually, and presents a kind of concave surface of snow, in the midst of which is a small pyramid of ice. It then rises into a second hemisphere, which is named the Middle Dome; and thence descends into another concave surface, terminating in a point, which among other names bestowed on it by the Savoyards, is styled “Dome de Goute,” and may be regarded as the inferior dome.

The first successful attempt to reach the summit of Mont Blanc was made in August, 1786, by Doctor Paccard, a physician of Chamouny. He was led to make the attempt by a guide, named Balma, who, in searching for crystals, had discovered the only practicable route by which so arduous an undertaking could be accomplished. The ascent occupied fifteen hours, and the descent five, under circumstances of the greatest difficulty; the sight of the doctor, and that of his guide, Balma, being so affected by the snow and wind, as to render them almost blind, at the same time that the face of each was excoriated, and the lips exceedingly swelled.

On the first of August of the following year, 1787, the celebrated and indefatigable naturalist, M. de Saussure, set out on his successful expedition, accompanied by a servant and eighteen guides, who carried a tent and mattresses, together with the necessary accommodations and various instruments of experimental philosophy. The first night they passed under the tent, on the summit of the mountain of La Cote, four thousand, nine hundred and eight-six feet above the Priory, a large village in the vale of Chamouny, the journey thither being exempt from trouble or danger, as the ascent is always over turf, or on the solid rock; though above this place it is wholly over ice or snows.

Early next morning they traversed the glacier of La Cote, to gain the foot of a small chain of rocks, inclosed in the snows of Mont Blanc. The glacier is both difficult and dangerous, being intersected by wide, deep, irregular chasms, which frequently can be passed only by three bridges of snow, which are suspended over the abyss. After reaching the ridge of rocks, the track winds along a hollow, or valley, filled with snow, which extends north and south to the foot of the highest summit, and is divided at intervals by enormous crevices. These show the snow to be disposed in horizontal beds, each of which answers to a year, and notwithstanding the width of the fissures, the depth can in no part be measured. At four in the afternoon, the party reached the second of the three great platforms of snow they had to traverse, and here they encamped, at the hight of nine thousand, three hundred and twelve feet above the Priory, or twelve thousand, seven hundred and sixty-eight feet (nearly two miles and a half) above the level of the sea.

From the center of this platform, inclosed between the farthest summit of Mont Blanc on the south, its high steps, or terraces, on the east, and the Dome de Goute on the west, nothing but snow appears. It is quite pure, of a dazzling whiteness, and on the high summits presents a singular contrast with the sky, which in these elevated regions is almost black. Here no living being is to be seen; no appearance of vegetation: it is the abodeof cold and silence. “When,” observes M. de Saussure, “I represent to myself Dr. Paccard and James Balma first arriving, on the decline of day, in these deserts, without shelter, without assistance, and even without the certainty that men could live in the places which they proposed to reach, and still pursuing their career with unshaken intrepidity, it seems impossible to admire too much their strength of mind and their courage.”

The company departed, at seven the next morning, to traverse the third and last platform, the slope of which is extremely steep, being in some places thirty-nine degrees. It terminates in precipices on all sides; and the surface of the snow was so hard, that those who went foremost were obliged to cut places for the feet with hatchets. The last slope of all presents no danger; but the air possesses so high a degree of rarity, that the strength is speedily exhausted, and on approaching the summit it was found necessary to stop at every fifteen or sixteen paces to take breath. At eleven they reached the top of the mountain, where they continued four hours and a half, during which time M. de Saussure enjoyed, with rapture and astonishment, a view the most extensive as well as the most rugged and sublime in nature, and made those observations which have rendered this expedition important to philosophy.

A light vapor, suspended in the lower regions of the air, concealed from the sight the lowest and most remote objects, such as the plains of France and Lombardy; but the whole surrounding assemblage of high summits appeared with the greatest distinctness.

M. de Saussure descended with his party, and the next morning reached Chamouny, without the smallest accident. As they had taken the precaution to wear vails of crape, their faces were not excoriated, nor their sight debilitated. The cold was not found to be so extremely piercing as it was described by Dr. Paccard. By experiments made with the hygrometer, on the summit of the mountain, the air was found to contain a sixth portion only of the humidity of that of Geneva; and to this dryness of the air, M. de Saussure imputes the burning thirst which he and his companions experienced. The balls of the electrometer diverged three lines only, and the electricity was positive. At times the air seems filled with electricity. A recent traveler (1854) says, that, in the night, his guide having come out from the cabin of the Grand Mulets, saw the ridges of the mountain apparently all on fire. He immediately communicated what he had observed to his companions, who all rushed to assure themselves of the fact, and then they saw that through the electricity generated by the tempest, all the rocks of the Grand Mulets were illuminated. They found the same phenomenon on their own persons. When they raised their arms, their fingers becamephosphorescent. M. de Saussure found it required half an hour to make water boil, while at Geneva fifteen or sixteen minutes sufficed, and twelve or thirteen at the seaside. None of his party discovered the smallest difference in the taste or smell of bread, wine, meat, fruits or liquors, as some travelers have pretended is the case at great hights; but sounds were of course much weakened, from the want of objects of reflection. Of all the organs, that of respiration was most affected, the pulse of one of the guides beating ninety-eight times in a minute, that of the servant one hundred and twelve, and that of M. de Saussure one hundred and one; while at Chamouny, the pulsations respectively were forty-nine, sixty, and seventy-two. A few days afterward, Mr. Beaufoy, an English gentleman, succeeded in a similar attempt, although it was attended with greater difficulty, arising from enlargements in the chasms in the ice.

A late traveler, wandering amid the same sublime scenery that has been described, says:

“Mont Blanc is clearly visible from Geneva, perhaps once in the week, or about sixty times in the year. When he is visible, a walk to the junction of the Arve and the Rhone, either by the way of the plains on the Genevan side, or by the hights on the side toward the south of France, affords a wonderful combination of sublimity and beauty on the earth and in the heavens. Those snowy mountain ranges, so white, so pure, so dazzling in the clear azure depths, do really look as if they belonged to another world; as if, like the faces of supernatural intelligences, they were looking sadly and steadfastly on our world, to speak to us of theirs. Some of these mountain peaks of snow you can see only through the perspective of other mountains, nearer to you, and covered with verdure, which makes the snowy pyramids appear so distant, so sharply defined, so high up, so glorious; it is indeed like the voice of great truths stirring the soul. As your eye follows the range, they lie in such glittering masses against the horizon, in such grand repose; they shoot into the sky in bright weather in such infinite clearness, so pure, so flashing; that they seem never to lose the charm of a sudden and startling revelation to the mind. Are they not sublime images of the great truths of God’s own word, that sometimes indeed are vailed with clouds, but in fair weather do carry us, as in a chariot of fire and with horses of fire, into eternity, into the presence of God? The atmosphere of our hearts is so misty and stormy, that we do not see them more than sixty times a year in their glory: if every Sabbath-day we get a view of them without clouds, we do well; butwhenwe see them as they are, then we feel their power, then we are rapt by them from earth, away, away, away, into the depths of heaven!

“In some circumstances, when we are climbing the mountains, even the mists that hang around them do add to the glory of the view; as in the rising sun, when they are so penetrated with brightness, that they softly rise over the crags as a robe of misty light, or seem like the motion of sweet Nature breathing into the atmosphere from her morning altars the incense of praise. And in the setting sun how often do they hang around the precipices, glowing with the golden and crimson hues of the west, and preventing us from clearly defining the forms of the mountains, only to make them more lovely to our view. So it is sometimes with the very clouds around God’s word, and the lights and shades upon it. There is an inscrutability of truth which sometimes increases its power, while we wait with solemn reverence for the hour when it shall be fully revealed to us; and our faith, like the setting sun, may clothe celestial mysteries with a soft and rosy-colored light, which makes them more suitable to our present existence, than if we saw them in the clear and cloudless atmosphere of a spiritual noon.

“You have a fine point for viewing Mont Blanc, without going out of the city, from the ramparts on the west side of Rousseau’s island. Here a brazen indicator is erected, with the names of the different mountain summits and ridges, so that by taking sight across the index, you can distinguish them at once. You will not mistake Mont Blanc, if you see him; but until you get accustomed to the panorama, you may easily mistake one of his court for the king, when the monarch himself is not visible.

“A still better point of view you will have at Coppet, ascending toward the Jura. In proportion as you rise from the borders of the lake, every part of the landscape becomes more beautiful, though what you wish to gain is the most commanding view of the mountains, every other object being secondary. In a bright day, nothing can be more clearly and distinctly defined than Mont Blanc, with his attendant mighty ranges, cut in dazzling snowy brightness against the clear blue sky. The sight of those glorious glittering fields and mountains of ice and snow, produces immediately a longing to be there among them. They make an impression upon the soul, of something supernatural, almost divine. Although the whole scene lying before you is so beautiful, (the lake, the verdant banks, the trees, and the lower ranges of verdure-covered mountains, constituting in themselves alone one of the loveliest pictures in the world,) yet the snowy ranges of Mont Blanc are the grand feature. Those glittering distant peaks are the only thing in the scene that takes a powerful hold upon the soul; but they do quite possess it, and tyrannize over it, with an ecstatic thralldom. One isnever wearied with gazing and wondering at the glory. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help!

“Another admirable point, much farther from the lake and the city than the preceding, and at a greater elevation, is what is called the promenade of the point Sacconex. A fine engraving of this view is printed on letter-paper for correspondence; but there is not sufficient distinctness given to the outlines of Mont Blanc and the other summits of the glittering snowy range, that seems to float in the heavens like the far-off alabaster walls of Paradise. No language, nor any engraving, can convey the ravishing magnificence and splendor, the exciting sublimity and beauty of the scene. But there are days in which the air around the mountains seems itself of such a hazy whiteness, that the snow melts into the atmosphere as it were, and dies away in the heavens like the indistinct outline of a bright but partially remembered dream. There are other days in which the fleecy clouds, like vails of light over the faces of angels, do so rest upon and mingle with the snowy summits, that you can hardly tell where one begins and the other ends. Sometimes you look upon the clouds thinking they are mountains, and then again Mont Blanc himself will be revealed in such far-off, unmoving, glittering grandeur, in such wonderful distinctness, that there is no mistaking the changeful imitations of his glory for the reality. Sometimes the clouds and the mountains together are mingled in such a multitudinous and interminable array of radiances, that it seems like the white-robed armies of heaven with their floating banners, marching and countermarching in front of the domes and jeweled battlements of the celestial city. When the fog scenery (of which I shall give you a description) takes place upon the earth, and at the same time there are such revelations of the snowy summits in the heavens, and such goings on of glory among them, and you get upon the mountain to see them, it is impossible to describe the effect, as of a vast enchantment, upon the mind.

“The view of Geneva, the lake, and the Jura mountains from Coligny is much admired; and at sunset, perhaps the world can not offer a more lovely scene. It was here that Byron took up his abode; a choice which I have wondered at, for you can not see Mont Blanc from this point, and therefore the situation is inferior to many others. Ascending the hill farther to the east, when you come to Col. Tronchin’s beautiful residence, you have perhaps the finest of all the views of Mont Blanc, in or around Geneva. Go upon the top of Col. Tronchin’s tower about half an hour before sunset, and the scene is not unworthy of comparison even with the glory of the sunrise as witnessed from the summit of the Righi. It is surprising to see how long Mont Blanc retains the light of day, and how long the snow burns in thesetting sun, after his orb has sunk from your own view entirely behind the green range of the Jura. Then after a succession of tints from the crimson to the cold gray, it being manifest that the sun has left the mountain to a companionship with the stars alone, you also are ready to depart, the glory of the scene being over, when suddenly and unaccountably the snowy summits redden again, as if the sun were returning upon them, the countenance of Mont Blanc is filled with rosy light, and the cold gray gives place for a few moments to a deep warm radiant pink, (as if you saw a sudden smile playing over the features of a sleeping angel,) which at length again dies in the twilight. This phenomenon is extremely beautiful, but I know not how to account for it; nor was any one of our party wiser than I; nevertheless, our ignorance of causes need never diminish, but often increases the pleasure of beautiful sights.”

“I have said I would give you a description of the ‘fog-scenery.’ In the autumn, when the fogs prevail, it is often a thick drizzling mist in Geneva, and nothing visible, while on the mountain tops the air is pure, and the sun shining. On such a day as this, when the children of the mist tell you that on the mountains it is fair weather, you must start early for the range nearest Geneva, on the way to Chamouny, the range of the Grand Saléve, the base of which is about four miles distant, prepared to spend the day upon the mountains, and you will witness one of the most singular and beautiful scenes to be enjoyed in Switzerland.

“The day I set out was so misty, that I took an umbrella, for the fog gathered and fell like rain, and I more than doubted whether I should see the sun at all. In the midst of this mist I climbed the rocky zigzag half hewn out of the face of the mountain, and half natural, and passing the village that is perched among the high rocks, which might be a refuge for the conies, began toiling up the last ascent of the mountain, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, but the thick mist, the vail of which had closed below and behind me over village, path and precipice, and still continued heavy and dark above me, so that I thought I never should get out of it. Suddenly my head rose above the level of the fog into the clear air, and the heavens were shining, and Mont Blanc, with the whole illimitable range of snowy mountain tops around him, was throwing back the sun! An ocean of mist, as smooth as a chalcedony, as soft and white as the down of the eider-duck’s breast, lay over the whole lower world; and as I rose above it, and ascended the mountain to its overhanging verge, it seemed an infinite abyss of vapor, where only the mountain tops were visible, on the Jura range like verdant wooded islands, on the Mont Blanc range as glittering surges and pyramids of ice and snow. No language can describe the extraordinary sublimityand beauty of the view. A level sea of white mist in every direction, as far as the eye could extend, with a continent of mighty icebergs on the one side floating in it, and on the other a forest promontory, with a slight undulating swell in the bosom of the sea, like the long, smooth undulations of the ocean in a calm.

“Standing on the overhanging crags, I could hear the chime of bells, the hum of busy labor, and the lowing of cattle, buried in the mist, and faintly coming up to you from the fields and villages. Now and then a bird darted up out of the mist into the clear sun and air, and sailed in playful circles, and then dived and disappeared again below the surface. By and by the wind began to agitate the cloudy sea, and more and more of the mountains became visible. Sometimes you have a bright sunset athwart this sea of cloud, which then rolls in waves burnished and tipped with fire. When you go down into the mist again, and leave behind you the beautiful sky, a clear, bracing atmosphere, the bright sun and the snow-shining mountains, it is like passing from heaven to earth, from the brightness and serenity of the one, to the darkness and cares of the other. The whole scene is a leaf in nature’s book, which but few turn over; but how rich it is in beauty and glory, and in food for meditation, none can tell but those who have witnessed it. This is a scene in Cloud-land, which hath its mysteries of beauty, that defy the skill of the painter and engraver.

“The poet Wordsworth has given two very vivid descriptions of these mist phenomena, under different aspects from that in which I witnessed them. The first is contained in his descriptive sketches of a pedestrian tour among the Alps.

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