The rarefaction of the air was nothing to what I had anticipated. We had heard legends, down at Chamouni, of the impossibility of lighting pipes at this height; but now all the guides were smoking most comfortably. Our faces had an odd dark appearrance, the result of congestion, and almost approaching the tint I had noticed in persons attacked by Asiatic cholera; but this was not accompanied by any sensation of fulness, or even inconvenience. The only thing that distressed me was the entire loss of feeling in my right hand, on which I had not been able to wear one of the fur gloves, from the bad grasp it allowed to my pole. Accordingly it was frostbitten. The guides evidently looked upon this as a more serious matter than I did myself, and for five minutes I underwent a series of rather severe operations of very violent friction. After a while the numbness partially went away; but even as I now write, my little finger is without sensation, and on the approach of cold it becomes very painful. However, all this was nothing: we had succeeded, and were sitting all together, without hurt or harm, on the summit of Mont Blanc. We did not feel much inclined to eat, but our vin ordinaire was perfect nectar; and the bottle of champagne brought up on purpose to be drunk on the summit, was considered a finer wine than had ever been met with. We all shook each other by the hand, and laughed at such small pleasantries so heartily that it was quite diverting; and a rapid programme of toasts went round, of which the most warmly drunk was "Her," according to each of our separate opinions on that point. We made no "scientific observations," the acute and honest de Saussure had done everything that was wanted by the world of that kind; and those who have since worried themselves during the ascent about "elevations" and temperatures, have added nothing to what he told us sixty years ago. But we had beheld all the wonders and horrors of the glacier world in their wildest features; we had gazed on scenery of such fantastic yet magnificent nature as we might not hope to see again; we had labored with all the nerve and energy we could command to achieve a work of downright unceasing danger and difficulty, which not more than one half of those who try are able to accomplish, and the triumph of which is even now shared but by a comparative handful of travellers: and we had succeeded! stated, the lightest puff of wind appeared to freeze us; and we saw the guides getting their packs ready-they were very light now-and preparing to descend. Accordingly, we left the summit at half-past nine, having been there exactly half an hour. We learned afterwards that we had been seen from Chamouni by telescopes, and that the people there had fired cannon when they perceived us on the summit: but these we did not hear. We were about three hours and a half getting back to the Grands Mulets; and, with the exception of the Mur de la Côte, (which required the same caution as in coming up,) the descent was a matter of great amusement. Sliding, tumbling, and staggering about, setting all the zigzags at defiance, and making direct short cuts from one to the other-sitting down at the top of the snow slopes, and launching ourselves off, feet first, until, not very clever at self-guidance, we turned right round and were stopped by our own heads; all this was capital fun. The guides managed to slide down very cleverly, keeping their feet. They leant rather back, steadying themselves with their poles, which also acted as a drag, by being pressed deeply into the snow when they wished to stop, and so scudded down like the bottles from the Grands Mulets. I tried this plan once; but, before I had gone a dozen yards, I went head-over-heels, and nearly lost my baton; so that I preferred the more ignoble but equally exciting mode of transit first alluded to. Although our return to the Mulets was accomplished in about half the time of the ascent, yet I was astonished at the distance we had traversed, now that my attention was not so much taken away by the novelty of the scenery and situations. There appeared to be no end to the montets which divide the plateaux; and after a time, as we descended, the progress became very troublesome, for the snow was beginning to thaw in the sun, and we went up to our knees at every step. We were now not together, little parties of three or four dotting the glacier above and in front of us. Everybody chose his own route, and glissaded, or skated, or rolled down according to his fancy. The sun was very bright and warm-we were all very cheerful and merry; and, although I had not had any sleep for two nights, I contrived to keep up tolerably well with the foremost. At one o'clock in the afternoon we got back to our old bivouac on the Grands MuAlthough the cold was by no means severe lets. We had intended to have remained here when the air was still, yet, as I have before some little time, but the heat on the rock was where we deposited our ladder for the next aspirants, and, in the absence of everything else, were content with a little water for refreshment. The cords were now untied, and we went on as we pleased; but I ordered Jean Carrier to go ahead, and tell his pretty sweetheart at the Pavilion des Pelerins that we should make all the party drink her so stifling that we could scarcely support it; and Tairraz announced that the glacier was becoming so dangerous to traverse, from the melting of the snow, that even now it would be a matter of some risk to cross it. So we hastily finished our scraps of refreshment, and drank our last bottle of wine-out of a stew-pan, by the way, for we had lost our leathern cups in our evolutions on the ice-health there-a promise I had given a day and then, making up our packs, bade goodbye to the Grands Mulets, most probably for ever. In five minutes we found that, after all, the greatest danger of the undertaking was. to come. The whole surface of the Glacier des Bossons had melted into perfect sludge; the ice-cliffs were dripping in the sun, like the well at Knaresborough; every minute the bridges over the crevices were falling in ; and we sank almost to our waists in the thawing snow at every step we took. I could see that the guides were uneasy. All the ropes came out again, and we were tied together in parties of three, about ten feet distant from one another. And now all the work of yesterday had to be gone over again, with much more danger attached to it. From the state of the snow, the guides avowed that it was impossible to tell whether we should find firm standing on any arch we arrived at, or go through it at once into some frightful chasm. They sounded every bridge we came to with their poles, and a shake of the head was always the signal for a detour. One or two of the tracks by which we had marched up yesterday had now disappeared altogether, and fresh ones had to be cautiously selected. We had one tolerably narrow escape. Tairraz, who preceded me, had jumped over a crevice, and upon the other side alighted on a mere bracket of snow, which directly gave way beneath him. With the squirrel-like rapid activity of the Chamouni guides he whirled his baton round so as to cross the crevice, which was not very broad but of unknown depth, transversely. This saved him, but the shock pulled me off my legs. Had he fallen, I must have followed him-since we were tied together—and the guide would have been dragged after me. I was more startled by this little accident than by any other occurrence during the journey. At length, after much anxiety, we came to the moraine of the glacier, and I was not sorry to find myself standing upon a block of hard granite, for I honestly believe that our lives had not been worth a penny's purchase ever since we left the Grands Mulets. We had a long rest at the Pierre à l'Echelle, or two previously-and he started off like a chamois. Jean Tairraz was sent forward to bespeak some milk for us at the Chalet de la Para, and then we took our time; and, once more upon solid trustworthy ground, began the last descent. Some mules were waiting at the Chalet, but the road was so exceedingly steep and tortuous that I preferred my own legs; and by five o'clock we had come down the pine wood, and found ourselves at the little cabin with Julie, all brightness and blushes, busying about to receive us. Several ladies and gentlemen had come thus far to meet us; and, what with the friends and families of the guides, we now formed a very large party indeed. It was here humbly suggested that we should mount our mules, to render our entry into Chamouni as imposing as possible; so after the men had drunk with their friends and with one another, and indeed with everybody, we formed into our order of march across the fields between the two villages. First went the two Tairraz, Balmat, and Carrier, with their ice-axes, as the chiefs of the party, and specially attached to us; then we came on our mules; after us walked the body of the guides, with such of their families as had come to meet them, and little boys and girls, so proud to carry their batons and appear to belong to the procession; and, finally, the porters and volunteers with the knapsacks brought up the rear. And so we went merrily through the fields that border the Arve, in the bright afternoon sunlight, receiving little bouquets from the girls on the way, and meeting fresh visitors from Chamouni every minute. We had heard the guns firing at Chamouni ever since we left the Pelerins; but as we entered the village we were greeted with a tremendous round of Alpine artillery from the roof of the new Hôtel Royal, and the garden and courtyard of the Hôtel de Londres. The whole population was in the streets, and on the bridge; the la lies at the hotels waving their handkerchiefs, and the men cheering; and a harpist and a violin player now joined the cortège. When we got into the court of our hotel, M. Edouard Tairraz had dressed a little table with some beautiful bouquets and wax candles, until it looked uncommonly like an altar, but for the half-dozen of champagne that formed a portion of its ornaments; and here we were invited to drink with him, and be gazed at, and have our hands shaken by everybody. One or two enthusiastic tourists expected me there and then to tell them all about it; but the crowd was now so great, and the guns so noisy, and the heat and dust so oppressive, coupled with the state of excitement in which we all were, that I was not sorry to get away and hide in a comfortable warm bath which our worthy host had prepared already. This, with an entire change of clothes, and a quiet comfortable dinner, put me all right again; and at night, when I was standing in the balcony of my chamber window, looking at the twinkling pine illuminations on the bridge, and watching the last glow of sunset once more disappear from the summit of the grand old mountain king, I could hardly persuade myself that the whole affair had not been a wonderful dream. 16 Guides, 18 Porters, 3 Mules, The Boy, NOTE NO. 3. 1 Lantern broken, Expenses due to Julie at the Pa vilion des Pelerins, Nails for shoes, Francs. Cents. 1600 108 1755 25 I did not sleep very well when I went to bed. I was tumbling down precipices all night long, and so feverish that I drank off the entire contents of a large water jug before morning. My face, in addition, gave me some pain where the sun had caught it, otherwise I was perfectly well-sufficiently so, indeed, to get up tolerably early next day, and accompany a friend on foot to Montanvert. In the evening we gave the guides a supper in the hotel garden. I had the honor of presiding; and Adding these together, we make— what with toasts, and speeches, and songs, excellent fare and a warm-hearted company, the moon was once more on the summit of Mont Blanc before we parted. I know it will be some time before the remembrance of that happy evening passes away from those, between whom and ourselves such an honest friendship had grown up as only fellow-laboring in difficulty and danger can establish. The undertaking so long anticipated is all over, and I am sitting in a little top bed-room of the Courronne at Geneva, and settling the expenses with Jean Tairraz. The sunset, the glaciers, and the Mur de la Côte have come down to a matter of "little bills." He first gives me the hotel account after the ascent. It is as follows: Provisions for ascent, Francs. Cents. 456 126 50 1755 25 2337 25 This divided by four-the number of tourists gives about 584 francs each. Had I gone up alone, of course the expense would have been greater. Not without vivid recollections of a delightful and wondrous journey, thus safely and happily accomplished, and of the excellent humor and courteous attention of my companions with a recommendation, to all whose time and constitution will permit, to make the same excursion, is this plain narrative concluded. From the Quarterly Review. WHO WAS JUNIUS?* [The Quarterly Review contains a very elaborate article on the authorship of the celebrated Junius Letters, proposing an entirely new candidate for the apocryphal honors of the nomi nis umbra. The discussion is so thorough and proceeds from so distinguished a source-Mr. Wilson Croker being probably the author-that it has elicited considerable interest in literary circles. The Athenæum, which has long kept a kind of literary custody of Junius' reputation, attacks the new theory with considerable success. We give the substance of both articles. The author first disposes, very conclusively, of the claims of Col. Barre and of Sir Philip Francis; then assuming that Junius must have been a young man-a man of dissolute manners and companionship-the author proceeds with his theory as follows: ED.] JUST eighty years have elapsed since Junius in the most emphatic of his writings, his Dedication to the English Nation, asserted that he was the sole depository of his own secret, and that it should perish with him. During that period the question of his identity has engaged the attention, and frequently occupied the pens, of our most experienced politicians and subtle critics. Perhaps the mined in our courts of law; and as we may justly boast that we have attained a higher position as to all matters depending upon the clearness and certainty of evidence than any other people, it cannot be thought surprising that this point of disputed identity should have been minutely examined by so many able minds. And the author of these "Letters" must, as it has been well observed, be sought for in narrow limits. He could not have been one of those obscure professors of literature who are to be found by thousands in our own day. He must have moved in the highest rank of political life; he must have been contemptuous of the emoluments of authorship. That these compositions, spreading over a period of about five years from first to last, should have been the only effort of the alert and energetic intellect which produced them, is most unlikely. When Junius is really discovered, we shall probably see him disappearing, like a storm-cloud, may have had its share in stimulating in- from one part of the political horizon to quiry. Sir Roger de Coverley gratified his burst with thunder and lightning in another. friend the Spectator with a sight of the nose The great difficulty has always been to find of a fox which had cost him not only fifteen among the public men of his time one who hours' hard riding, but the loss of a brace of united his restless and vigorous capacity geldings and half his dogs. The nose itself, with his peculiar partialities, his violent rethough carefully preserved and distinguished sentments, his amazing command of inforby a mark of honor, appeared, we dare say,mation, his general opinions, and, we must to the silent man not one whit worthier than other noses gained with half the fatigue and hazard. In all such cases, whether the exercise be mental or bodily, it is the toil which dignifies the trophy. confidence with which he defied detection add, his total want of principle. Of all those persons yet named-some on mere conjecture-not one displays the elemental qualities of that character which Junius, however unconsciously, has drawn of himself. This question, however, is of a nature peThat Junius was closely attached to the culiarly calculated to engage the English Grenville connection is so obvious as to have mind. If ever solved, it must be solved, not struck every inquirer. The head of that by mere effort of intellect, like a mathemati-party in the Commons is never mentioned cal problem, but by the evidence of facts, in much the same manner as questions of guilt or innocence, of right or wrong, are deter His by him, in any one of his numerous disguises, but with honor and eulogy. He is described not only as "an able financier," but as "great and good"—"invulnerable to censure.' 1. The Authorship of the Letters of Junius judgment is characterized as "shrewd and elucidated. By John Britton, F.S.A. 8vo. 1848. 2 Junius, including Letters by the same Writer, inflexible;" his credit with the public as under other Signatures. "equally extensive and secure." the Authorship. By John Wade. 2 vols. 8vo. 1850." weight and authority in Parliament" are With new Evidence as to His said to be acknowledged by his opponents, | murder of the constitution." But when he and above all, he is extolled for his consisteney: Inconstant as Junius was in his political attachments and enmities, he never varied in his admiration for Mr. Grenville, and he stood by his principles-even at the hazard of sharing in the unpopularity which the first successes of the American insurgents brought on them. Of other distinguished members of the Grenville connection Junius rarely speaks. We cannot recollect that he once mentions the name of Lord Temple, though he reproaches Chatham with sacrificing "his brother." Nor is there more than one allusion to Lord Lyttelton-but that one shows a perfect knowledge of his lordship's sentiments, and is artfully designed to shake the cordial friendship which Junius well knew subsisted between that amiable peer and Lord Mansfield : "Lord Lyttelton's integrity and judgment are unquestionable, yet he is known to admire that cunning Scotchman, and verily believes him an honest man."-ii. 305. resigns office and joins Chatham in opposition, Junius turns to him as "a character fertile in every great and good qualification." Wilkes, when in opposition to the Grenvilles, is mentioned as "a man of no sort of consequence in his own person," and as "a most infamous character in private life;" but as he becomes serviceable to the Grenville party by embarrassing the Government on the Middlesex election, Junius condescends to be his apologist, and graciously tells him that the wound he once gave him is healed, and that "the scar shall be no disgrace." Even the rancor of Junius towards the King may almost certainly be referred to his Majesty's dislike of Grenville and Temple, and his fixed resolution to exclude the former from his councils. The date when Junius began his labors indicates his prime motive:— "It was on the 28th of April in the year 1767 that the late Mr. H. S. Woodfall received, amidst other letters from a great number of correspondents, for the use of the Public Advertiser, of which he was the proprietor, the first public address of this celebrated writer." This was So writes the Woodfall editor. about nine months after Lord Chatham had formed that "chequered and speckled administration" which is remembered to this day as an example of the folly of attempting to unite in one government men of the most opposite principles and dispositions. But to achieve this chimera Chatham sacrificed not only the political connections but the private attachments of his life. It was this conduct The Grenville party is constantly assumed which drew on Chatham the not undeserved by Junius to be the only one worthy the reproach of Junius, and, so far as we can confidence of the country. When Chatham gather from a fair consideration of his earlier stands apart from it, Junius thinks "a gib-efforts, which prompted Junius to appeal to bet not too honorable for the carcass of a the public in the columns of Woodfall's traitor." When united again to Temple and newspaper. Lyttelton, the pen of Junius contributes to reward the great leader of opposition," and "to gather recorded honors round his monument." Camden, when the Chancellor of the Chatham ministry, is denounced as an "apostate lawyer, weak enough to sacrifice"great Walpolean battles." his own character, and base enough to betray the laws of his country." As "Judge Jefferies," he is made to say that he is all for liberty or all for anarchy ;" and he is described as having "the laws of England under his feet, and before his distorted vision a dagger, which he calls the law of nature, and which marshals him the way to the Of all the friends of Chatham, George Lord Lyttelton was the one who had most reason to feel aggrieved by his desertion. Their connection had been formed very early in life, and together they had fought the 'great Walpolean battles." Their "historic friendship," as Horace Walpole styles it, had indeed been interrupted on the death of Mr. Pelham in 1754; and the offence of Lyttelton in presuming to act for himself was so far resented by Pitt and Temple in the day of their power that he was excluded from their ministry; but when on the accession of George III. a new actor appeared on |