the fearful precipice with one hand, to pull up the stricken chamois with the other, from the narrow-pointed ledge on which he had fallen.

The little food we had with us was frozen so hard, that

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ASCENT OF THE MOUNTAIN.

we were obliged to use our hatchets to break it. After a day of toil and excitement, we descended in safety. There is no kind of hunting that I have ever witnessed, half so exciting as chamois hunting.

Though Frank had thought himself so strong, the exertion sadly tried him; and the next day he remained at Chamouni, while I set off in company with the chamois hunters, who had engaged, for a trifling sum, to show me, high among the mountains, one of the most fearful paths that human foot had ever trod.

CHAPTER IX.

Mountains. Precipices. Hecdless Enterprise of Paul Preston. Village of Martigny. Monks of La Trappe. Fearful Precipice. A Rift in the narrow Path. Paul Preston's alarm at the Loss of one of the Guides. The Lichen in flower. The hair-breadth Escape. The fearful Pass. The broken Bridge. Perilous Situation in crossing the River Drance. Ascent of Mont Blanc. Paul and Frank visit France. Fight between a French Horse and a Lion. Paul Preston's Adventure with a Wolf.

AN indescribable sense of awe, wonder, and admiration takes possession of the mind when gazing on a mountain unusually lofty; and fear is added to this when standing on the brink of a frowning precipice. Unaccustomed to

witness such heights, and to endure the sight of such fearful depths, we feel sensibly affected by the one, and often unequal to encounter the other.

In one of my journeys to school with Frank Berkeley, I climbed up a part of the Lickey Hills, which had been rendered nearly perpendicular by the removal of earth and gravel.

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VILLAGE OF MARTIGNY.

Thinking it possible to cross over from one side of this precipitous part to the other, I made the attempt, when I found the earth begin to shiver down under my feet. Thus situated, finding no foot-hold, I was constrained to dash across the part, scrambling along as well as I could. Fortunately I effected my purpose, though in great danger, every part on which I trod instantly giving way. Had I fallen, it would have been down a precipice of two hundred feet; but a false step in some of the paths of the mountains that I traversed with the chamois hunters in Switzerland would have precipitated me headlong a depth of as many thousands.

The monks of the village of Martigny, like those who inhabit the convent of St. Bernard, on the mountain of that name, are very useful and benevolent.

We passed along to Martigny, and onwards, through pine woods and romantic rocks, till we came to a venerable-looking mansion, where some of the monks of La Trappe had taken up their residence. Here we rested for the night.

As soon as the sun had risen the following day, we were ascending the precipitous mountains; and, as I looked back on the old mansion we had left, I pictured to my fancy the monks at their devotions.

I saw them move on when the matin-bell rung,
While their prayers were ascending on high;

While they knelt in the nook, with a skull and a book,

A cross and a rosary.

Bare-headed, bare-footed, all languid and pale,

They knelt on the cold flint stone;

And I thought that while telling their beads for their sins,
We had all need pray for our own.

The chamois hunters had their iron-shod poles with them, and they led me through hollows, and over large