BLIND AMID THE CREVASSES. 1857.
Friday, 14th August.—Hirst was almost blind this morning; and our guide's eyes were also greatly inflamed. We gathered our things together, and bade the Grands Mulets farewell. It had frozen hard during the night, and this, on the steeper slopes, rendered the footing very insecure. Simond, moreover, appeared to be a little bewildered, and I sometimes preceded him in cutting the steps, while Hirst moved among the crevasses like a blind man; one of us keeping near him, so that he might feel for the actual places where our feet had rested, and place his own in the same position. It cost us three hours to cross from the Grands Mulets to the Pierre a l'Echelle, where we discarded our leggings, had a mouthful of food, and a brief rest. Once upon the safe earth Simond's powers seemed to be restored, and he led us swiftly downwards to the little auberge beside the Cascade du Tard, where we had some excellent lemonade, equally choice cognac, fresh strawberries and cream. How sweet they were, and how beautiful we thought the peasant girl who served them! Our guide kept a little hotel, at which we halted, and found it clean and comfortable. We were, in fact, totally unfit to go elsewhere. My coat was torn, holes were kicked through my boots, and I was altogether ragged and shabby. A warm bath before dinner refreshed all mightily. Dense clouds now lowered upon Mont Blanc, and we had not been an hour at Chamouni when the breaking up of the weather was announced by a thunder-peal. We had accomplished our journey just in time.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Those acquainted with the mountain will at once recognise the grave error here committed. In fact on starting from the Grands Mulets we had crossed the glacier too far, and throughout were much too close to the Dôme du Goûter.
[B] I fired the second case in a field in Hampshire, and, as far as my memory enabled me to make the comparison, found its sound considerably denser, if I may use the expression. In 1859 I had a pistol fired at the summit of Mont Blanc: its sound was sensibly feebler and shorter than in the valley; it resembled somewhat the discharge of a cork from a champagne bottle, though much louder, but it could not be at all compared to the sound of a common cracker.
[C] I believe that I could stop him now (1860).
(12.)
HAPPY EVENINGS. 1857.
After our return we spent every available hour upon the ice, working at questions which shall be treated under their proper heads, each day's work being wound up by an evening of perfect enjoyment. Roast mutton and fried potatoes were our incessant fare, for which, after a little longing for a change at first, we contracted a final and permanent love. As the year advanced, moreover, and the grass sprouted with augmented vigour on the slopes of the Montanvert, the mutton, as predicted by our host, became more tender and juicy. We had also some capital Sallenches beer, cold as the glacier water, but effervescent as champagne. Such were our food and drink. After dinner we gathered round the pine-fire, and I can hardly think it possible for three men to be more happy than we then were. It was not the goodness of the conversation, nor any high intellectual element, which gave the charm to our gatherings; the gladness grew naturally out of our own perfect health, and out of the circumstances of our position. Every fibre seemed a repository of latent joy, which the slightest stimulus sufficed to bring into conscious action.