PEDESTRIAN RAMBLES IN THE ALPS.

WHEN the traveller, on emerging from the valley of Chamouni, crosses Les Ouches, after a while another valley opens on his right. This is the valley of Servoz, where the mountain torrent of Dioza pours down the back of the Brevent, whose summit towers aloft opposite to Mont Blanc. In July, when the snow is melted from the neighbouring peaks, and the soil at the foot of the rocks is clothed with verdure, when the sun gilds the surrounding heights, then the valley looks pleasant, or at least loses somewhat of the rudeness of its aspect.

At the opening of the valley, on the Arve, is situated, among other neat houses, an inn, where I stopped one evening in June. From this place I had the choice of several routes to my home. The broad, commodious high-road, was at the same time the shortest. But to me, a passionate climber of mountains, valleys are insipid and monotonous. I and other tourists want lofty peaks, rugged mountain-passes, adventures, perils, hardships, marvels-for such is our nature. If a miller's horse or ass, in his daily course from the mill to the baker's, always takes the shortest, straightest, flattest, and most convenient way, it is impossible for a tourist to go from Servoz to Geneva by any other than the longest, steepest, most dangerous, and most expensive. Accordingly, no sooner had I reached the inn than I began to inquire about the nearest cols and mountain-passes; and the people made mention of the Col d'Anterne, but told me that it was a narrow, rugged, and dangerous path between the rocks of the Fiz (Fairies) and the foreground of the Buet, and that it was, moreover, rendered very unsafe by the tempests to which it was liable. This was just the thing for me; so I resolved to hire a clever guide, and to start with him early next morning. Unluckily, there are no guides in the small place, and my host could not think of any other person but a chamois-hunter of the village; and to my disappointment I learned that he had just been engaged by an English tourist to conduct him on the following day to the valley of Sixt.

On my arrival at Servoz, I had seen this tourist at the door of the inn. He was a portly gentleman, very well dressed, and evidently accustomed to the manners of high life, for when I bowed to him, he did not return the compliment: this, as everybody knows, is with the English a sign of bon ton and good breeding. This reserve was certainly not calculated to encourage further advances; but, as the stranger was in possession of the only guide there was for the Anterne, and I wished to obtain permission to join and divide the expense with him, I plucked up courage. The Englishman was seated just opposite to Mont Blanc, tinged with the radiant glow of sunset; he was looking at the mountain, but yawning listlessly. To show my sympathy and thus earn his good-will, I yawned too. This done, I thought it advisable to leave him time for a few minutes to get accustomed to the sight of me; and then I considered myself as "introduced," and fancied that I had found the right moment for hazarding an exclamation about the sublime and magnificent view. The tourist affected not to hear me. I then approached nearer and said, in the most courteous tone and manner that I could assume, "You, sir, have come from Chamouny?"

"Ui."

"I left it myself early this morning."

A long yawn was the reply.

"I had not the pleasure to meet with you on the road: you probably crossed the Col de Balme?"

"No."

"I came yesterday over the Tête Noire to Chamouny, and mean to cross the Col d'Anterne to-morrow if I can find a guide. You have found one, I am told.”

"Uï."

"Would it be indiscreet if I were to request your permission to join you, and to pay my share of the expense?"

"Uï, il y avè de l'indiscrechon."

Of course I could say no more, and retired with a slight bow.

Rather vexed, I went out of the house without any particular object, and thus sauntered to the ruins of the ancient castle of St. Michael, to which numberless legends and extraordinary tales are attached. Two goats which were browsing here ran away as I approached; presently the herdsman came to look for them, and I went back with him to the village. The man had heard something of the Col d'Anterne, and I should certainly have taken him for a guide had he not appeared so timorous.

"We country folk," said he, "might manage, but gentlemenno, it will never do: the snow is too deep up there. Why, it is not above a week since two hogs were killed there they belonged to Pierre -and his wife too, who was coming back with them from the market of Samoins over the Col. To lose two such hogs at once! If the woman had but sold them, the money would have been found in her pocket. I tell you, sir, it is a dangerous pass in June."

66

Taking my Itineraire" from my pocket, I showed that the Col d'Anterne was on the contrary a safe and commodious pass; that it was only 7086 feet above the level of the sea, whereas the snowy-line commences at 7812. But, as my argument seemed to make little impression on my companion, I took my pencil and calculated on the back of my book, that across the Col there must still be 726 feet of rock entirely free from snow and ice.

"Mâ s'y fiaz," said he in his patois-"you must not trust to that I don't understand your figures, but hark'ye: two years since, in the same month, a young Englishman was killed there. Presently afterwards came his father, wailing and lamenting. They got a capital dinner for him at Renaud's: meat of the best, dried fruits, but he would not taste them-all his cry was for his son. At last, after a search of six-and-thirty hours, they brought his body up out of a cleft, and horridly mangled it was."

All this had no weight with me, being thoroughly convinced that the ignorant herdsman was mistaken, for my "Itineraire" could not be wrong. Besides, I wanted a spice of danger, and so the Col d'Anterne was just the thing for me. I adhered, therefore, to my purpose of attempting the passage, and that without a guide, as I could not get one, in firm reliance on the accuracy of my "Itineraire" still I resolved, by

way of precaution, to start soon after the English tourist and to follow him at a distance.

When I returned to my inn, preparations were just making for supper. A small table was set for me in a corner. A large one in the middle of the room was laid for my lord and a young lady, his daughter, whom I had not yet seen. She was a beautiful girl, but in her whole demeanour there was that mixture of grace and stiffness which is so frequently observable in young English ladies of high families. As I understand English, I heard, without wishing to do so, all that they said to one another. Their conversation contained not a single allusion to what they had seen during the day, or the impressions which it had excited: it consisted, on the part of both, in laconic censures of the table apparatus, the supper, and the attendance. I was particularly struck by one circumstance. The delicate and elegant girl, who seemed to be woven out of moonshine, had ordered a thick beefsteak, the blood-coloured gravy from which, tinging her ivory teeth, produced a singular effect: neither did she hesitate to drink several glasses of sherry, which they had brought with them, one after another, and to drain the glass every time. My lord was meanwhile exclusively occupied in preparing tea for himself, intending to make his meal of that alone. So particular was he about this operation, and so many orders had he to give, that the whole house was kept in motion to wait upon him; while he retained that important, grave, stiff look, which an Englishman of quality can put off in London at the gaming-table at Crockford's, but not when travelling and at the inns on the continent.

Supper was nearly finished, when the guide abruptly entered. "Holla! hah! hark ye, sir," cried he, somewhat bluffly, "we must start betimes in the morning. I have been just looking after the weather, and I see that to-morrow about noon we shall probably have a storm that is bad up above on account of the snow and the wind: the lady's parasol would not be of much use to her there."

My lord was evidently piqued at the blunt manner of the guide. After a while, turning to his daughter, he said, but in his French, probably to make the guide feel the whole weight of his indignation: "Cette guide avé yune tres-irreverencieuse manière."

"Il me paraissé," replied the lady, "yune stiupid. Disé à lui que je ne voulé paartir que si la ciel n'avé pas yune niuage."

"Je ne voulé paartir que quand la ciel n'avé pas une seule niuage." "Just the contrary," answered the guide; "early in the morning, the sky will be overcast; but that is nothing: we must start betimes. But give yourself no concern about that: we country folk know more about the weather than you do."

"Je disé à vous que je ne voulé paartir que quand la ciel n'a pas yune yunique niuage.'

"As you please that's your affair: but I would lay any wager that at nine in the morning the sky will be perfectly clear, and that we shall have a storm about noon. If we do not start till nine, we shall be in

We retain this characteristic appellation used by the writer, which foreigners in general give to every English gentleman indiscriminately; though it is evident that the tourist in question, travelling with his daughter, unattended by a single servant of either sex, could not have any claim to the title.-EDITOR.

the very midst of the snow at noon; but if we get off betimes, we shall be at Sixt by noon, and then let the storm come when it will."

"Clara, c'été yune fourbe. Compréné vous la chose? Il connaissé qu'il faisé mauvais temps demain, et il voulé nous engager à commencer la journée de grand matin, parceque plus tard il faisé le pluie, et il perdé son argent."

"Je croyé aussi."

"Ces hommes été tute remarquabelment volours!"

"Tute. Ordonné lui voter volonté; il à été bien attrapé !"

"Mon ami, je distingue paafaitement voter estratadgem! Je ne voulé paartir que quand la ciel il n'avé pas plus de niuage que siur cette plate what do you call plate, Clara ?""

66 Assiette."

"Que siur cette assiette. Entendez-vous.”

"Yes, I understand; but 'tis very foolish. As you will not believe me, I will bring Peter to you, who lost his two hogs, and his wife into the bargain."

"Je defendé vous d'améner des cochons."

"Peter shall only tell you-"

"Je defendé vous."

"Well, as you will."

"Je defendé, diabel!”

Thus ended the dialogue.

The guide left the room, and I, contrary to my custom, could not come to any determination about the morning. I was disposed to believe that the guide was right, but could not find fault with the angry Englishman; and so I went to bed.

The guides have their own notions, to which they obstinately adhere. Such was the case with this man. Notwithstanding the express direction which he had received, he was in front of the inn by daybreak to waken my lord and to urge his departure.

The stranger was angry enough at the noise with which the chamoishunter had in his fashion roused him from his slumbers. Nevertheless, he got out of bed, and went to the window; but seeing that the sky looked heavy and overcast with clouds, he flew into a violent passion.

"Vous etes yune fourbe, monsieur, yune fourbe! Je connoissé voter estratadgem! je connoissé! Je declare encore yune fois que je ne paarte pas s'il y avé yune seule yunique niuage dans tute la circumference de la firmamente! Allé vos-en, tute suite, tute!"

The guide grumbled a good deal to himself, but went away, though he could not comprehend what it all meant. To be sure, the people of the country do not affect to comprehend the English; so they let them talk, and storm, and pay.

The man's prediction, however, was realised; for soon after eight the sun began to burst forth from among the clouds; these, and even the slightest vapours were presently dispersed, and the sky became. perfectly clear. My lord now resolved to start with his daughter. They mounted their mules, which had been waiting two hours for them before the inn; and the guide, significantly shaking his head, walked before them. A quarter of an hour afterwards, I slung my knapsack across my shoulders, and set out with the design of following them at a distance.

We ascended a mountain, which appeared on all sides picturesque and interesting. Half way up it is studded with large masses of rock, interspersed with fine trees and bushes. You first come to walnuttrees, then to beeches and firs, and lastly to small birches and aspens, the moveable leaves of which tremble over their silver-white stems. At the very top are the rocks of the Fiz. These rocks, above 8000 feet high, are frequently embosomed in clouds. The nearer you approach them, the more awful and threatening they look. They form a gigantic wall, which runs for many miles, and at length joins the majestic Aiguille de Warens beyond Sallanche. These rocks are brittle, and undermined by the water. Fragments of them have fallen at various times. The most considerable fall of this kind, which happened in 1751, caused frightful devastations, forced the Arve to change its course, buried farm-houses, chalets, men, and cattle; but no traces of of this havoc are visible, as all the prodigious masses of rock now form hills luxuriantly clothed with trees. From time to time bold chamoishunters climb the Fiz, and tell of a deep dark lake, and many other extraordinary and appalling things.

About eleven, some clouds had formed over the profound abyss. Mont Blanc was defined by dark lines upon a background of white clouds, and the wind blew cool and damp from the south. I now thought of the prediction of the guide, and saw that my lord, in order to avoid an imaginary snare, had laid one infinitely more dangerous for himself.

From time to time, when the trees became rather thinner, I saw the two mules above my head advancing slowly with their riders. The guide walked before that of the lady. None of them spoke a word. Presently the guide stood still, and pointed to something in the dis

tance.

At this place it is customary for the guides to direct the attention of travellers to a spot of reddish colour, owing to the iron that it contains, at a considerable height in the rocky wall of the Fiz, which they call l'homme des Fiz, for they assert that this spot looks like a pair of yellow breeches, which, with similar patches connected with it, form a man. This, according to them, is the figure of the giant to whom the rock belongs. It was this curiosity that the guide was now pointing out to the young lady, and talking a great deal about the breeches. It is well known that this word, like shift and some others, is very offensive to female ears in England; which methinks tells very little for the modesty and innocence of the young English ladies. Accordingly, a strong expression of prudery immediately overspread Clara's blushing face; but my lord manifested the most comic indignation.

"Up yonder on the left," repeated the unconscious guide. "There, don't you see the yellow breeches ?"

"Je défendé vos, guide, de dire cette mote!"

"You don't see them, sir; I am certain you don't, look straight where my stick points: yellow breeches-now can't you make them out?"

Clara looked still more shamefaced, and blushed deeper than before, while my lord was exasperated and said, "Vous été yune malproper, mosieur! J'avé dite à vos de ne pas prononcer cette sale mote! Je payé vos, c'été vos d'avoir de l'obédience. Piqué la miulette, Clara!" The party now proceeded.