and I am sure that in all excursions out of the common run it is best to perform them alone; that is to say, accompanied only by the necessary guides. Much time must be lost when the party is a large one; and it is evident that in dangerous places the fewer that have to cross them the better. With respect to passing the Col du Géant, I think, on the whole, it is better to go from Courmayeur to Chamonix, than from Chamonix to Courmayeur. It may be a question, in case of bad weather, which is the better place of the two to be detained at: but at Chamonix you are sure of getting good guides at a short notice; and if you intend starting from Courmayeur, you must send round to Chamonix for a guide to be the leader of the party, and must keep him with you till you start. Also, on the Chamonix side, in passing the glacier, you are going up hill all the way, whereby you obtain a better sight of your main difficulties; which also you thus encounter early in the day's work. But on the other hand, should the rocky precipice on the side of Courmayeur have any snow upon it, the ascent would probably be better than the descent; however, in such a case it would perhaps be the more prudent plan to defer the expedition altogether.

The next morning (Wednesday August 7) was fine after the rain and thunder of the night; but we ob

served that fresh snow had fallen on the heights, and that the precipitous rocky descent of the Col was now gray with snow; so that had we delayed our expedition a single day longer, it would in all probability have failed. At eight o'clock I left Courmayeur with my guides, and proceeded by the Col de la Seigne, to Chapuy, our quarters for the night. We were scarcely housed, about dusk, before a thunderstorm came on; during which, I saw, by a blaze of lightning, three children of the hamlet sitting on the grassy slope of the mountain, not heeding the weather, and no one heeding them. The rain at last drove them in. One had a bowl of milk in his hand; and another a wreath of Alpine flowers. The next morning we went on by the Col du Bon Homme, to the baths of St. Gervais. Here I bade farewell to my trusty guides, shaking them all four cordially by the hand at parting. They were, of course, going home to Chamonix. I went on to St. Martin; and the next morning returned, by the Diligence, to Geneva.

Geneva, August, 1844.

Orthography doubtful.

Y

THE TABLE D'HOTE.

E travellers all in realms remote,

Give ear unto the doleful note

Of one who sings the Table d' Hôte.

Curst Table d' Hôte! In blank despair

You sit, and sit, until your chair

Seems stuffed with nettles (I've no patience

With these réunions of nations)

Awaiting, after long inaction,
Repletion without satisfaction;
Till like Iülus, you feel able
To masticate the very table.*

And when you're served, the soup is cold;
The wine is hot; the poultry old;
Nay, whatsoe'er the meat you're picking,
One truth is clear-it is no chicken.
Not Pandemonium's strife surpasses
The clang of dishes-clash of glasses—
And Babel seems let loose at once
In new confusion of all tongues;

* "Nos etiam mensas consumimus," inquit Iulus.

L

VIRGIL.

And hurrying, pert, perspiring waiters
Heed not the guests, but him who caters.
Now the bassoon, with loud uproar,

And fiddles five, are at the door!

And to escape from meat and music,
Either of which would turn a Jew sick,
You rise from table in affliction;

Not blessing, but with malediction;

For you have earned, beyond all question,
To save trente sous, a grievous indigestion.

Geneva, August, 1844.

LE PLAN DES DAMES."

OU see this natural platform, carpeted

YOU

With turf, close nibbled by the mountain sheep :

Here rest a moment. Is it not a place

Where musically-ankled damosels

Might wear away a summer's day in mirth,
Tripping it featly to the merry pipe

Who

way,

Of hill-side shepherd? Yet the mountaineer
goes this hushes his snatch of song,
And with a thoughtful visage casts a stone-
One more upon the mouldering pile you see.
The tale is this. One summer, long ago,
Attended as their station well became,
Two sisters journeying from distant climes
(As thousands do, as we ourselves are doing)
To gaze on Alpine wonders, here were caught
In the rude tourmente, big with baffling winds,
And thunder; blinding all the air with snow
Unseasonable; and transfixed with cold
And fear, they in each other's arms entwined
Fainted and died. A shepherd found them thus.
Their servants fled, and perished further down.