and send you to punishment. This would happen with eight out of ten country magistrates into whose hands you might fall. Your knowledge, if you displayed it, would only be deemed an aggravation of your case, because your story would be thought more improbable in consequence. Do not come to England, unless you can come with a coat somewhat in the fashion, or think to travel there without paying five times more for every thing you eat or drink on your road, than the innkeeper really purchases it for." I succeeded, I believe, in preventing Mentelle's visiting this country, and most likely being degraded in a treadmill by some country Dogberry. The last time I saw this extraordinary man, I promised, on my arrival in England, to send him a Sanscrit work, which I was unfortunately not able to procure. He was then studying the Asiatic tongues. Mentelle's powers of reasoning were very great. Sometimes he would take up a wrong argument to show his skill upon it: for when he pleased, he was the best sophist I ever heard. His manners were simple and mild; his countenance beamed with intelligence, and was like some old Italian pictures I have seen. I think, a life such as he led could not endure long. Though his look was healthy, he could not have been strong. I remember he told me that a knowledge of Sclavonic rendered the acquirement of every other modern tongue a comparatively easy task. He said he loved to talk, and to impart knowledge to any who would visit him when he was inclined to repose an hour or two from his studies. He was no anchorite; but was fond of society, if it were such as admitted conversation on literature or science. Poor Mentelle! he is now dust; but perhaps, no man ever loved knowledge so much for herself as he did, or was contented to sacrifice so much for it! My meeting the foregoing original character, reminds me that I fell in with one equally original by accident some years ago, though I do not mean to degrade poor Mentelle by a comparison as to moral character. I think it was in the year 1806, that clever rogue, Major Semple Lisle, came to make a complaint to a friend of mine concerned in a newspaper, of something which had been said of him that was untrue. I was present, and particularly noticed his sharp features and pale face, having heard of, but never before seen him. He was very gentlemanly in his manners, and stayed about five minutes in the room. He was charged with a larceny, or something of the sort, a few days afterwards, and the officers of justice were in pursuit of him. I was crossing a path from the end of what is now the east side of Tavistock-square, which was then fields going into the New-road, and had just reached the little row of houses, which at present faces the east end of St. Pancras new church, when I saw Semple Lisle approach from the New-road, and turn into one of those houses. It was very early in the morning. He did not see me until he had the door in his hand, when he stopped, and, looking me full in the face, seemed alarmed: he recognised me again, and feeling I must know from the newspapers " he was wanted," as the Bow-street runners say, I can never forget his look. He recovered himself instantly, made a gentlemanly inclination of the head, and said, "Sir, I implore you not to say you have seen me."-"You need not fear any thing from me," was my reply: no more passed. I need not say, I kept my word. I fear poverty prompted him to his mean actions, -it is a sad destroyer of your moral feelings! The Quarterly has a review of Southey's life of Wesley, which I have just been reading. I once saw Wesley. Southey has shown much tact in book-making, by selecting subjects for his works to accommodate numerous readers. It was in a sea-port town, about the year 1790, when I was very young, that, going with some of my playmates to clamber on the pieces of timber landed upon the quay, I was with my companions surprised to find what we held our own domain occupied by a crowd of people, and, on a log far above the rest, towered the figure of the most venerable man I had ever beheld,-I may now say that I have ever seen since. He was addressing the people earnestly. He wore a gown over his thin form, and long white hair waved upon his shoulders. His appearance checked our playful propensities for a moment, and we stood gazing at him in silence. At length the glow of youthful spirits urged us to our old sports: we began to play, at first without making much noise, till growing bolder we clambered over the logs, as we were wont, and I got astride upon a piece of timber huge enough to be the "mast of some great ammiral," far above Wesley's head a second young varlet followed me, and then a third. We were rather behind the preacher, and, as may be guessed, we were soon making noise enough to interrupt him in his discourse. On a sudden he stopped speaking; and turning round and looking up sternly at us, carrying towards us the gaze of two or three thousand persons, he called out, "Come down, you boys, or be quiet." These words, added to our perception that the eyes of so many persons were upon us, made us ashamed. One and one we slunk down abashed, and bent our steps from the spot. I have mentioned Opie above. When the pictures of Mr. Angerstein were purchased lately by Government, I went to see those of Hogarth, and was surprised at their beauty. A friend of mine says that Opie and he were struck with their difference from the opinion they had formed of them before they saw them. "I accompanied Opie," said he, "to Christie's, in 1792, to see those pictures. It was the first time that either of us had seen any of Hogarth's original paintings, and I believe both expected to see something coarse, hard, and vulgar. But never was disappointment more agreeable. My companion seemed struck with astonishment. I was impatient for his opinion, and repeatedly pressed him, but I might as well have spoken to a post. He sat before them, examining every part for above half an hour, humming a tune, as was his custom when pleased; but not a word could I get from him. At length he exclaimed: 'Who has dared to say that this man could not paint!' On our return to his house, and during our walk, he was equally silent; and it was above an hour before I could get him to talk on the subject, when he was rapturous in their praise, and agreed to a remark I made, that poor Hogarth had been born a century too soon, and painted in an age when the taste of the public was incapable of appreciating his merits. visited the pictures every day while they remained at Christie's." Opie A VISIT TO THE SUMMIT OF MONT BLANC, BY CAPTAIN 25th, 26th, and 27th of August, 1825. In Letters addressed to a Friend, by Captain Markham Sherwill. [The following narrative will doubtless be read with a degree of interest equal to that which was excited by the former account of the same ascent; and our readers, we think, will regard, with curiosity, the different effects produced by the same scenes on the minds of the two writers.] LETTER I. MY DEAR FRIEND,-When I quitted you for a second ramble through Switzerland and Savoy, the intention of ascending Mont Blanc had certainly never entered into my remote speculation, and much less into the plan of my proceedings. Yet as you have frequently requested to con over the notes of my summer's excursion, and I have nothing just now more interesting to send you, I am induced to select a few short memoranda of that ascent for your amusement. On the 22d of August, 1825, I left Geneva with a friend, having determined to visit the valley of Chamouni before making an excursion to the Oberland. Passing through Bonneville and Sallenche, we slept the first evening at St. Gervais. The Hotel de Montjoie, in the village of St. Gervais, we found exceedingly agreeable, and strongly recommend it: the traveller will find comfortable rooms, great cleanliness, good and reasonable fare, and, in Madame Rosset, a very obliging agreeable hostess. From this inn, moreover, you get a charming view of the mountains with the Aiguille de Varens and the Cime des Fours, soaring to near one thousand four hundred toises above the level of the sea. We continued our route to Chamouni, only staying to visit the beautiful Cascade de Chêde; and, immediately on reaching the Hotel de l'Union, endeavoured to see Marie Coutet, one of the guides. Next morning, Coutet went with me to visit the Mer de Glace, and the source of the Arveron. In the course of this walk, he mentioned to me that there was then at Chamouni a young English physician who was preparing to ascend Mont Blanc alone, having hitherto in vain sought for a companion. Coutet said he had consented to go, and strongly pressed me to be of the party. Without any very strong intention of making the attempt, I was induced to ask a good many questions about the practicability of the thing. As we sat on a large block of granite near the source of the Arveron, a mass of ice suddenly slipped from the Glacier des Bois, and fell with thundering roar, loudly reverberating along the sides of La Flecière. As I was strongly expressing my admiration and pleasure, Coutet said with a smile, "Ah! Monsieur! ce n'est rien! pour voir les avalanches il faut vaincre le Mont Blanc!" resolved on the attempt, and we returned to the hotel. Having obtained an I rose from my granite seat half interview with Dr. Clark, I expressed my wish to join in the expedition, and was immediately relieved from all embarrassment by the kind manner with which my propositions were received. We talked the matter over, and held farther consultations with Coutet. It was now about four o'clock on Wednesday the 24th of August, and it was equally Dr. Clark's wish and my own to leave the hotel before dawn, that we might avoid the disagreeable heat. The thermometer was then at seventy degrees Fahrenheit, and had varied from seventy to eighty degrees during the last few days. But as two more guides were to be hired and more provisions to be cooked, it was declared impossible that we should set out before six o'clock next morning. While Coutet was busy in preparing food, ropes, warm clothes, &c. we were equally busy in selecting the proper number of efficient guides to accompany us. The following seven, after some difficulty, were engaged. 1. Joseph Marie Coutet, son of Coutet, who accompanied Monsieur de Saussure he had been to the summit six times, and failed in four other attempts. 2. Pierre Tairraz, the younger, up once, aged thirty-nine, and single. 3. Simeon Devouassou, up once, aged thirty, married. 4. Julien Devouassou, brother of the above, never up, married, aged thirty-six. 5. Simon Tournier, never up, single, aged twenty-eight. 6. Michel Devouassou, never been up, married, aged twenty-five. 7. Pierre Joseph Simond, never been up, married, aged thirty-six. Thursday, 25th August, 1825.-I awoke early in the morning, and soon made myself ready for our undertaking. It will be seen by the above list of guides, that five of the seven were married men. It was of course very natural they should take more time, in bidding to their wives and children an affectionate farewell, in a case like the present, than if they were merely going to the Tête Noir, or Col de Balme; and the single men might possibly have friends to whom a tender adieu was equally requisite. It was therefore seven o'clock when Dr. Clark and myself mounted our mules. The guides had each a knapsack containing provisions, wine, &c., and over their shoulders were slung ropes, hatchets, and poles, all necessary implements to storm the lofty citadel. The summer having been very propitious for the visitors to Chamouni, the number of strangers was scarcely ever known to have been greater, and nearly every one was on the alert to see us depart. Indeed, many accompanied us over the bridge opposite the inn, and continued with us some little way along the valley to the right, in the direction of the small hamlet called “Les Pelerins," where we arrived in about half an hour at the house of Coutet, our principal guide. Here we remained some short time, while we gave directions to his brother at what hours he was to take notes of the variations in the barometer and thermometer during our absence; for Coutet is well provided with these instruments, which he has received as presents from various English gentlemen with whom he has travelled over the adjacent mountains, in testimony of their approbation of his amiable manners and good conduct. The barometer which we took with us was a very good one, made in Geneva, of a construction capable of marking a great depression of the mercury; and at Les Pelerins it stood at twenty-five inches, one line and onetenth. The thermometer marked fourteen degrees Reaumur. The valley of Chamouni is about 337 French toises above the level of the Lake of Geneva, consequently 524 toises above the Mediterranean Sea. Having made our final arrangements, we re-mounted our mules, and began to ascend the foot of the south-west end of the Montanvert, traversing a forest of dark pines, between which we occasionally saw the lofty columns of the Glacier de Bossons, or Buissons, distant about twenty or thirty paces from us, on our right hand, "Midst fearful sights, Of pines uprooted by the blast; the rush We continued to wind along a serpentine path, amid large blocks of granite, which are continually rolling down from what the guides call les Moraines," that is, the vast heaps of sand and stones on either side of the Glacier, whose devastating march carries with it immense blocks of stones from the various adjacent peaks. No one should quit the valley of Chamouni without visiting and crossing the Glacier des Bossons, about half an hour's walk above the hamlet of Les Pelerins; it is somewhat difficult for ladies, but I have crossed it with two, who were remarkably good walkers, and we descended on the side nearest to the Glacier de Tacconai. We could not help remarking, as we continued to ascend the difficult and narrow path, how cheerful the guides appeared; they were all in eager conversation on trivial subjects, wholly unconnected with the arduous expedition they had to encounter. Towards nine o'clock, we arrived at the Châlet de la Part, a single hut, where, as is usual in these mountain cottages, cows and goats are housed for the night:-they generally consist of one room divided by a low partition; in one half of it the cheese is made from the animals which occupy the other apartment. The man or woman, who may have the charge of the whole, sleeps on a kind of shelf. Pails, presses, sieves, boilers, &c. &c. are among the accessories of these lightly built châlets. We found a girl of about eighteen years of age in this hut, busily employed in making cheeses; she was surprised to see so large a party in so unfrequented a spot, but kindly gave us some delicious goat's milk; her countenance was naturally agreeable, and she was evidently desirous to give us any thing her humble abode could afford. We shook her heartily by the hand, and she bade us good-b'ye with many kind wishes that we might return safely: we mounted our mules, and continued our route. Immediately on quitting this Châlet de la Part, we saw a fine reservoir through which a mountain streamlet ran. Here large tin cans of milk and cream were kept sheltered from the rays of a scorching sun: it was about five feet square, rudely built of irregular stones, but sufficiently united to retain from two to three feet of water. The mountains on the opposite side of the valley began to diminish, L'Aiguille de Varens above the village of St. Martin was visible. The valley of Chamouni now lay at our feet, in which we could distinctly see the cottages without the aid of our glasses. The path became very rugged and difficult, until we arrived at a large rock called "La pierre pointue," where we dismounted from our mules at ten o'clock: these were re-conducted to Chamouni by a ruddy-cheeked girl, to whom we gave a note or two, written in pencil, to our friends whom we had left at the inn. Our mules having hitherto carried some of our luggage, we halted a short time that the guides might arrange it. Coutet, with the aid of his telescope, distinctly saw persons on the summit of Mont Breven, across the valley, and directly opposite to us. Some one of that party had hoisted a white hat on a pole, as a signal of salutation, which we returned. been on the top of Mont Breven, which is 1306 toises above the sea, in order We afterwards learned, that thirty persons had to observe our progress. We now began to traverse on foot some very rugged places, where vegetation had nearly ceased, though still a few of the Alpine plants were to be found in sheltered crevices of the barren rocks. On turning round the brow of the mountain, we discovered a herd of goats scattered above and below us, which belonged to the Châlet de la Part; but no bird, or living thing else, was there. Our path lay at the edge of a precipice which appeared somewhat dangerous to pass, for the roaring water was about 1500 feet below us, and issued from a part of the Glacier des Bossons, which we were now fast approaching. Considerable quantities of loose stones, chiefly of granite, of which these mountains are composed, impeded us very much; we suddenly lost all the former appearances of a path, which was merely a track made by the goats, and marked by vegetation. We were probably between six and seven thousand feet above the valley, and nearly on a level with the Mont Breven. After climbing a considerable ascent, we reached what is termed "La pierre de l'Echelle" at eleven o'clock, and immediately repeated the signal to our friends on the Breven, whom, with Coutet's excellent glass, we could see to be numerous. substantial breakfast; and placing ourselves behind the great stone called We soon made preparations for a "La pierre de l'Echelle," we felt great security from the avalanches, which fall hereabouts continually from the lower parts of the Aiguille du Midi. This stone is of granite, of about fifty feet perpendicular height, and seems well secured and supported. At this ceded us with a part of the baggage, in order to lessen the weight of the spot we found the porters who had preguides. We remained at this breakfast-place an hour, and just before we |