We had a charming ride down the mountain side, in the glow of the
twilight. We passed through a whole flock of goats which the children
were driving home. One dear little sturdy Savoyard looked so like a
certain little Charley at home that I felt quite a going forth of soul
to him. As we rode on, I thought I would willingly live and die in
such a place; but I shall see a hundred such before we leave the Alps.
JOURNAL - (CONTINUED.)
Thursday, July 7. Weather still celestial, as yesterday. But lo, these
frail tabernacles betray their earthliness. H. remarked at breakfast
that all the "tired" of yesterday was piled up into to-day. And S.
actually pleaded inability, and determined to remain at the hotel.
However, the Mer de Glace must be seen; so, at seven William, Georgy,
H., and I, set off. When about half way or more up the mountain we
crossed the track of the avalanches, a strip or trail, which looks
from beneath like a mower's swath through a field of tall grass. It is
a clean path, about fifty rods wide, without trees, with few rocks,
smooth and steep, and with a bottom of ice covered with gravel.
"Hurrah, William," said I, "let's have an avalanche!"
"Agreed," said he; "there's a big rock."
"Monsieur le Guide, Monsieur le Guide!" I shouted, "stop a moment.
