The Chamois Figures Largely; There Are Pouches Made Of Chamois Skin, Walking Sticks And Alpenstocks Tipped With Chamois Horn; Sometimes An Entire Skin, Horns And All, Hanging Disconsolately Downward.

Then all manner of crystals, such as are found in the rocks, are served up - agate pins, rings, seals,

Bracelets, cups, and snuffboxes - all which are duly urged on your attention; so, instead of falling into a rapture at the sight of Mont Blanc, the regular routine for a Yankee is to begin a bargain for a walking stick or a snuffbox.

There is another curious fact, and that is, that every prospect loses by being made definite. As long as we only see a thing by glimpses, and imagine that there is a deal more that we do not see, the mind is kept in a constant excitement and play; but come to a point where you can fairly and squarely take in the whole, and there your mind falls listless. It is the greatest proof to me of the infinite nature of our minds, that we almost instantly undervalue what we have thoroughly attained. This sensation afflicted me, for I had been reining in my enthusiasm for two days, as rather premature, and keeping myself in reserve for this ultimate display. But now I stood there, no longer seeing by glimpses, no longer catching rapturous intimations as I turned angles of rock, or glanced through windows of pine - here it was, all spread out before me like a map, not a cloud, not a shadow to soften the outline - there was Mont Blanc, a great alabaster pyramid, with a glacier running down each side of it; there was the Arve, and there was the Arveiron, names most magical in song, but now literal geographic realities.

But in full possession of the whole my mind gave out like a rocket that will not go off at the critical moment. I remember, once after finishing a very circumstantial treatise on the nature of heaven, being oppressed with a similar sensation of satiety, - that which hath not entered the heart of man to conceive must not be mapped out, - hence the wisdom of the dim, indefinite imagery of the Scriptures; they give you no hard outline, no definite limit; occasionally they part as do the clouds around these mountains, giving you flashes and gleams of something supernatural and splendid, but never fully unveiling.

But La Flegerc is doubtless the best point for getting a statistically accurate idea of how the Alps lie, of any easily accessible to ladies. This print you may regard more as a chart than as a picture.

Our guide pointed out every feature with praiseworthy accuracy. Midmost is Mont Blanc; on the right the Glacier de Boisson. Two or three little black peaks' in it are the sleeping-place for travellers ascending - the zigzag line shows their path. On the left of the mountain lies Mer de Glace, with the Arveiron falling from it. The Arve crosses the valley below us; the fall is not indicated in this view.

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