AN ICE WALL.
I know it is customary now to laugh at any dangers on Mont Blanc; and yet a terrible disaster took place there no longer ago than 1870.
In the month of September of that year, a party of eleven (including two Americans) started to climb the mountain. Near the summit a frightful tempest burst upon them. The guides no longer recognized the way, and, unable to return or find shelter, the entire party perished. The bodies of five were recovered. In the pocket of one of them (an American from Baltimore) were found these words, written to his wife: "7th of September, evening. We have been for two days on Mont Blanc in a terrific hurricane. We have lost our way, and are now at an altitude of fifteen thousand feet. I have no longer any hope. We have nothing to eat. My feet are already frozen, and I have strength enough only to write these words. Perhaps they will be found and given to you. Farewell; I trust that we shall meet in heaven!"
HUTS OF SHELTER ON MONT BLANC.
WHERE SEVERAL ALPINE CLIMBERS REST.
But such a mountain as Mont Blanc can rarely be ascended in a single day. Two days are generally given to the task. On the evening of the first day its would-be conquerors reach, at a height of ten thousand feet, a desolate region called the Grands Mulets. Here on some savage-looking rocks are two small cabins. One is intended for a kitchen, the other for a sleeping-room; that is, if one can sleep in such a place; for what an excitement there must be in passing a night at this great altitude! The distant stars gleam in the frosty air with an unwonted brilliancy and splendor. The wind surges against the cliffs with the full, deep boom of the sea; while the silence in the unmeasurable space above is awe-inspiring.