at the Montanvert in the solitary little inn at the foot of the glacier. Next morning we were up at dawn. Furnished with provisions and two bottles of wine, we started with our guides. It was a splendid morning, and augured well for our excursion. For half an hour we followed a rough path which skirted the Mer de Glace, which displayed below us its surface, riven with crevasses and covered with rocks and fragments. Our road ended at the glacier, upon which we now began to descend, and to traverse in zig-zags in the midst of numerous fissures. The Mer de Glace is not considered dangerous, and it is quite the exception to take axes and ropes, when crossing it. Alert and cheerful we hastened on, without taking notice of the guide, who, some way behind, cried out to us several times to be cautious and wait for him. We were obliged at last to halt before a vast crevasse which barred up our passage. It opened with a length of some sixty yards, and ended upon our left in a slope of ice, somewhat steep, but which I thought I could easily mount. Using the iron spike of my alpenstock as a hatchet, I began to cut holes in the ice, large enough to put my feet in. At this moment our guide rejoined us. He looked at the slope and at the yawning crevasse below it, and said in a grave tone, “It is dangerous; let us go round it.”

With the help of my alpenstock I had already got half-way up this icy hillock, and was now quite convinced that it was too steep and slippery to be crossed without an axe. The guide's warning confirmed my opinion. I resolved to retrace my steps. I was cautiously lowering my right leg, seeking for the hole that I had made in the ice; my foot passed it; I felt that I was sliding down; there was nothing rough to stop me, not the least projection by which I could hold myself in. The

declivity became perpendicular, and I fell into the gulf. I heard the cries of despair of my companion and my guide. My own sensation cannot be described. I was giddy and half stunned, sent backwards and forwards from one wall of ice to the other; I felt myself descending to a great depth, condemned to be dashed to pieces, to die a horrible death. Suddenly something stopped me, I felt myself suspended. I took breath again, and could cry out, "A rope! a rope!"

By God's mercy I had fallen upon a narrow ledge of ice, which formed a sort of bridge across the crevasse. This frail support, as far as I could judge, was about four inches broad and eighteen thick. My head hung from one side of it, my feet from the other. Instinctively, by what means I know not, I raised myself up and stood upright on this projection, where there was a hollow just large enough for me to plant one foot.

My position was a terrible one, the thin ledge of ice being so narrow that I could not place both feet on it. I could only support myself on one leg, half resting against one of the ice walls, and pressing the other with my hand. The ice was smooth as a mirror, there was nothing to grasp. A stream of ice-water flowed down upon my shoulders, piercing me to the very bones; above my head I saw the long and narrow streak of the sky, around which the mouth of the crevasse formed a frame. The ice, which was of darkest blue color, encircling me on all sides, looked threatening and gloomy. The two walls seemed as if they were about to meet in order to crush me, rather than to release their prey. Numerous watercourses streamed down their sides, but in this extent of more than sixty yards I could not see any other projection or obstacle, except this ledge on which I had so miraculously fallen.

I risked looking, for one second only, down into the terrible abyss above which I was suspended. At the spot where I was, the crevasse was not more than two feet wide, lower down it narrowed rapidly, and a hundred yards below the two sides appeared to touch each other. It was impossible to change my position without the risk of losing my balance. The cold of the wall of ice against which I was resting more and more benumbed me, the water continued to fall, and I dared not stir.

I called my companion; no one replied. I called again. Nothing! Nothing! Not a human being within reach of my voice. I was seized with giddiness as a thought crossed my brain.

"He has gone to see if the help is coming, and he cannot find the crevasse again. There are hundreds such I am lost!"

I commended my soul to God. My strength was quite exhausted. I had never yet given up all hope. I was tempted to let myself fail, and thus put an end to this agony.

At this critical moment I heard myself called. My friend had run to look for the guide, but when he wished to return he was horror stricken on perceiving that the surface of the glacier was rent by countless crevasses, all so similar that there was not a single sign by which he could recognize the abyss where I was buried alive. In this cruel perplexity God led him to see a little knapsack which the guide had left at the edge of the gulf.

I felt that I could hold on but very little longer. The frail support on which my safety alone depended might yield at any moment and break beneath me. I remembered that I had a strong knife in my pocket, and I

resolved to make use of it to draw myself out. I informed my companion of this project; he implored me to do nothing of the kind; but my situation had become intolerable. I made a notch in the ice, high enough for me to reach it, and large enough for me to insert my hand in it; then about two feet above the little bridge I dug out a hole sufficiently large for me to place my foot in it. I succeeded, and grasping these two points of support, my back resting with all my strength against the opposite wall, I was able to raise myself and keep myself firm in this new position. I descended again upon the bridge, and began another notch above the first. I flattered myself that I should thus be able to escape from my prison, but a single slip, a false step, would precipitate me into the abyss.

I was working diligently at my second step when I heard a joyous cry above me: "Here they are! Three men with ropes- they are running as fast as their legs can carry them."

I steadied myself as firmly as possible upon the narrow and slippery bridge, so as to be able to seize the rope they were about to lower, and tie it around me. I saw the end of it swinging about two yards above my head. "May God have mercy upon me! it is too short!"

"We have another," cried they, to my delight.

That was fastened to the first, and let down. I seized the end of it. I bound it strongly around my waist, and grasping the rope with both hands I gave the signal for them to pull up.

They began-I was saved. A minute afterwards I was standing upon the glacier. I had passed fifty minutes in the crevasse, during which time I had happily lost neither my confidence in God nor my presence of mind.

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Questions: Where is Switzerland? What is a glacier? What does "augured well" mean? What is an alpenstock? What is a crevasse? Name other dangers of the Alps. What is an avalanche? What has been done to protect travellers? Tell all you know about the monks of St. Bernard. In what poem is death by the avalanche described? ("Excelsior.") What recent change has removed the necessity of riding over the mountain?

COMPOSITION.

Write an account of an imaginary adventure in the Alpine glaciers. A party of tourists stop at Mount St. Bernard. The monks warn them not to attempt to climb the mountain. They do not heed the advice; they procure guides and ropes. Descending the side they come to an ice-field traversed by a crevasse. Attempting to go around the opening, one of the number slips, fails to recover his footing and falls into the abyss. A ledge of ice stops his descent. His thoughts and movements there. His companions lower a rope; it is too short. They run to the convent for another. Meanwhile he is about to succumb to the frost and to weakness. The rescuers cannot find their way back; at last they see a knapsack on the brink and recognize the spot. This time the rope is long enough and the man is lifted out.

Memorize :

"Eternal Providence, exceeding thought,

Where none appears can make herself a way."