the desolate white mountains; the stillness of death rested upon them, but the marvellous beauty of their forms, distinctly outlined against the black, starry sky, lent the scene the majesty of solitude -not the horror of desolation.

Amid such impressions, I descended with my guides to the glacier. We needed a good omen, for the excursion we had in view was toilsome, the result uncertain. We intended to ascend the peak of the Jungfrau, towering in the background, and then descend on the opposite side,-the side which, from the beauty of its form, the brilliancy of its ice, and the roar of its avalanches, is familiar to nearly all travelers who visit the Wengern Alp. But the glaciers, falling in unusually steep declivities to desolate valleys, are more deeply cleft than others, often change the shape of their chasms in a very short time, and, always dangerous to traverse, sometimes forbid the passage of the boldest pedestrian. We came from Zermatt, and from our own observation knew nothing of the condition of the ice on the other side of the mountains. We had been warned of it; some Grindelwald guides, who slept in the hut with us the first night, said that the chasms in the glacier on the slope towards the Wengern Alp could no longer be crossed.

We first passed that portion of the wide ice-basin to which an insipid comparison has given the name Place de la Concorde. Here the great Aletsch Glacier unites with the Jungfrau Glacier and the ice-masses from the gap in the Grünhorn. The snow was firm, but not smooth; not a breath of air stirred; no cloud moved; a soft light illumined our silent walk. Nevertheless, it seemed long, like all nocturnal expeditions, even those whose peculiar loveliness can scarcely be equalled. Thought becomes monotonous, like impressions; and wishes for daybreak soon arise. The mountains slowly separated as we climbed steadily up the Jungfrau Glacier in a northwesterly direction. The chain of the Bernese Mountains rises from the glacier on both sides of the Jungfrau, like an iceberg from the Polar Sea; and, as the glacier itself is 3,000 meters above the level of the sea, the surrounding mountains do not seem so immensely lofty; they resemble a range of moderate height, with the characteristics of the most elevated. This fact attests the peculiarity of the landscape, whose quiet grandeur awakened no suspicion of the savage, terrible forms of the ice-masses on the opposite side.

When daylight came, with the intense cold that marks a cloudless morning in the highest mountain ranges, we were already far up the side of the Kranzberg, the name given the huge buttress that supports the Jungfrau on the east, whose highest peak towered above us, upheld by a sheer wall of rock. No path leads thither, but on the left rise the glacier-masses, across which the summit may be gained. At five o'clock,-sun-rise,—we were 3,400 meters above the level of the sea. Our walk had been an easy one; difficulties, in the sense of the great Alpine ascensions, were not worth mentioning. The glaciers, with regard to steepness and iciness, were in such a condition that practiced climbers could scale them with perfect security, without using the ice-axe to cut steps; vast yawning chasms might be easily avoided by passing around them. So the walk lacked the charm of peril which the mountain traveller often loves for itself. To make amends, we were granted most exquisite views of the region behind us, for the scene grew more and more grand, and, with the joy aroused by the sparkling light of the young day, the thoughts rested on the goal and the magnificent prospect to be expected.

At six o'clock, the character of the path changed. We had reached the crest of the huge ridge from which the lofty peak of the Jungfrau rises to a height of 4,167 meters. This ridge divides two totally different types of landscape, which contrast with each other as strikingly as the waveless surface of the ocean and its angry surges. Three lofty ridges intersect it,-the Löwinenthor, the Roththalsattel, and the Jungfraujoch,-leading from the majestic expanse of the Aletsch Glacier into the narrow valleys, between whose cliffs the shattered masses of ice, just on the point of falling, are closely wedged. We reached the ridge near the Roththalsattel, and walked along the steep edge in a northerly direction. Below us, on the right, stretched the beautiful, glittering Jungfrau Glacier; at our left, the chasms of the notorious Roththal; before us was the rocky summit of the Jungfrau; in the background towered the Valais Mountains, with the Weisshorn, Dent-Blanche and Matterhorn; the Mischabel and Monte Rosa groups were clearly distinguishable from the Weismies and Fletschhorn on their left, and soon the Grand Combin and Mont Blanc appeared on the opposite side.

over

From the Roththalsattel, itself 3,850 meters high, the summit of the Jungfrau can be reached in an hour. The rocks which the path leads would present no difficulties, so far as steepness is concerned, but in many places are so coated with ice that it requires great caution on the part of the climber. There is no occasion to fear the ice when it can be reached, that is, when it is so compact that steps of suitable size can be cut; but the ice-coated rocks, with their thin, clear, smooth covering, do not allow this kind of treatment, and demand special sureness of foot, or what must frequently supply its place,-exceptionally good guides.

After a walk of only five hours, the rocks were crossed, and we stood close beneath the summit. The snow ridge that still separated us from it could be scaled in three minutes, and on reaching this summit a new phase of our expedition began. First, however, we might allow ourselves to enjoy one hour's unclouded happiness on the top of the far-farmed peak.

The few preceding weeks had granted me many similar hours. During this time, I climbed many mountains with almost unparallelled good fortune, and stood on the summits of Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn, the Breithorn, Dent-Blanche, Rimfischhorn, Weisshorn, yesterday on the Finsteraarhorn, to-day on the Jungfrau and the chain was not yet exhausted. It seemed as if I had spent my whole life among these snow-clad peaks, and was destined to end it there.

The exercise of strength, maintained by constant practice, dispels the feeling of strangeness, even in the most savage regions. Wherever the eye may turn, familiar peaks always meet the gaze; the scene awakens no terror; nothing is felt save the majesty, the grandeur of creation. We behold it from a commanding standpoint, and in that elevated mood to which the soul tends when the body has been kept in a state of tension by hours of exertion and impending danger. Silence reigns; the lungs inhale deeper breaths of the purer air; the broad landscape beams in the light of a brighter sun against the deeper blue of the sky; we imagine we understand the language of the mountains, and vanished centuries speak to us.

I had spent one of these beautiful mornings on Monte Rosa. The still air and the greater brilliancy of the sunlight did not allow any sensation of cold. The transparency of the atmosphere

permitted the outlines of the most distant mountains to be distinguished, and certain landmarks, seen close at hand during former ascensions, could be noted from nineteen to twenty-two geographical miles away. But this fact does not constitute the peculiar charm of the views beheld from lofty mountains. If distant prospects were the only attraction, peaks like the Rhigi, Faulhorn, Piz Languard, etc., would afford almost as many as those whose summits glitter with eternal snows. There is a very different spell in the view close at hand. The highest mountains that are the goal of our ascensions are never isolated, but form part of a connecting range of peaks. We scale them, gaze at their mighty cliffs, their gleaming glaciers, their jagged masses of ice, the impassable bridges which, in the form of rocky ridges, are thrown from one summit to another, or the sharp snow-crusts that lie on the ridges like the curling surf on the seashore. This view, and the impressions it produces, we would seek in vain on a Rhigi. It is the on the Jungfrau, where neither the distant mountains south of Mont Blanc, nor the Tyrolean Alps, can arrest the eye, but the immediate vicinity of the most exquisitely beautiful of all the beautiful Alpine ranges, the Bernese Mountains; besides these, only the giants of Zermatt, lying southward, but not far away, are conspicuous. If we look eastward towards the Aletsch, we see peaks whose names are familiar to every one, towering above each other like the steps of an amphitheatre. The Mönsch is at the left, and the Gletscherhorn on the right; between them, the mighty mass of the Jungfrau, semi-circular in form, as if pushed out of shape by the ice-masses of the Aletsch Glacier. Far different is the view in the opposite direction, towards the Lauterbrunn Thal. Here, softer, more sudden tints prevail; the meadows and lake greet the eye, and human habitations appear. Everything seems close at hand, one might shout across; but the apparent distance is deceptive, for only the abrupt fall of the mountain makes it possible. This is the cause of the steep cliffs, the chasms, the overhanging masses of ice, the destroying avalanches. Four supporting mountains, diverging from each other almost at right angles, here join the curved crest of the Jungfrau; short glacier valleys lie between them, all opening towards the Lauterbrunnerthal. On the nearest of these ridges rises the Silberhorn; at its right the Schneehorn between them lies the Giessen Glacier, overlooked by the peak of

the Jungfrau; on the other side of the Schneehorn ridge are the upper portions of the Guggi Glacier. If this is fixed in the mind, a clear idea of the walk now beginning may be formed.

A little before half-past nine o'clock, our hour expired, and we prepared to make the descent. The path down to the valley was as uncertain as usual, and I had reason to be anxious about the result. This only heightened the charm of the situation; for, as we had all three traversed the mountains from boyhood, we anticipated something, and the excitement of the approaching struggle increased our strength.

In the shadow of the Jungfrau, we descended a field of ice directly towards the west. At first, there was so little danger that we intentionally slipped several times; to be sure, not in a sitting posture, which is very amusing, not tiresome, yet under some circumstances fatal,--but standing, with the knees slightly bent, using the ice-axe braced against the surface. Soon the slope became very steep and the snow more icy-two things that often happen at the same time. Egger went first, cutting steps, not exactly down the line of the steepest declivity, but in short curves, that at each turn required a considerable expenditure of skill. In itself, it is much easier to go down steps cut in a straight line down the shortest part of the slope; that is the way they are hewn in ascending, and then in most cases all special difficulties of the descent are removed. But where, as in our case, the so-called "traversing" of a mountain is to be accomplished,—that is, a path followed leading from one side to the summit, and from the opposite side downward,—no steps for the descent are to be found; they must be cut while standing in a stooping posture, often with an unsteady foothold, from above downward, a matter which sometimes proves so difficult that the attempt to keep a straight line is given up, and the steps are permitted to wind in serpentine curves. At last, we reached smooth ice, and then the rocks of the Silbergrat, the name given to the mass of rocks serving as a support to the lofty Silberhorn, 3,705 meters high. This ridge divides the territory of the Roththal on the left, from that of the Giessen Glacier on the right, and along this crest we were now to continue our walk.

Rock-climbing, such as only the wildest and loftiest portions of the high mountain ranges can offer, began in great style. The heart of the old mountaineer exults; but the less experienced