who spoke a little very bad French-and seemed to be very poor, and deeply tinctured with German enthusiasm and philosophy. There was one Frenchman who talked in the style Frenchmen often talk of 'L' Aimable Vallée'—and the 'jolies montagnes.' Another, a genuine Badaud de Paris on the contrary, with a most piteous shrug exclaimed-' Mais mon Dieu! quel pays!-quels chemins affreux!-quels lieux Sauvages!'-and constant were the prayers he put up to be once more safe restored to Paris. There was also a Russian Count, a young man of elegant person and manners, and princely fortune. He was deeply regretting the whole of dinner time, that he had not arrived at Chamouni in time to have accompanied a young Englishman who had set off in the morning on that arduous and perilous undertaking—an expedition to the summit of Mont Blanc-and whose success seemed deeply to interest all the people of the valley. Mine host, who was waiter in chief-and all the other waiters-and all the guides and all the peasants of Chamouni, talked with enthusiastic wonder of the extra

ordinary feats of courage and agility this same 'Milor Anglais' had performed in a Chamois hunt, two days before, which he had undertaken with some of the most enterprising guides and hunters over the most inaccessible of the icy heights of the Alps; and in short, the whole valley rung with his praise. But nobody at Chamouni (as usual) knew his name-for English names foreigners can never master—nor was his name to be found in the book inscribed with the names of all mine host's guests:-for 'Milor' had taken up his abode at a cottage in the valley, on purpose, it was said, to shun the crowds of English at the inn-for which proceeding most part of the said English at the inn -very charitably concluded that Milor' must have some reason not very creditable to him.

Before sun set the mountain party, with 'Milor,' that were scaling Mont Blanc-were seen to have gained the high perpendicular rock of Le Grand Mulet, on which they were to pass the night-and some rockets let off from this situation by the guides after dark, had a peculiarly fine effect, viewed from the valley.

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CHAPTER XI.

THE MONTANVERT AND MER DE GLACE.

Here on snows where never human foot
Of common mortal trod, we lightly tread
And leave no traces; o'er the savage sea
The glassy ocean of the mountain ice
We skim its rugged breakers, which put on
The aspect of a tumbling tempest's foam,
Frozen in a moment.

LORD BYRON.

AFTER breakfast next morning, Colonel Cleveland, Miss St. Clair, and Mademoiselle Delemont, set off for the Montanvert and the Mer de Glace. To their utter astonishment, Lord Lumbercourt appeared, mounted on a mule, with a face full of anxiety and care-but

most determinedly buttoned up for the exploit, in great coats and resolution, and attended by Gregory, looking most ominously solemn, mounted on another mule.-But alas! the poor Peer! Scarcely had the mule carried him up one third of the steep ascent that mules usually go-beforehis back nearly broken with attempting to stick upon the animal-his gouty joints dislocated with its motion, and his nerves shattered with the sight of the giddy precipices on which he hung—he was fain to give up the project, and turn back,-to which, perhaps, he was the more inclined, from never having been able to come up with Miss St. Clair, who from the beginning got far before him. Thus his Lordship, like

The King of France, with twenty thousand men,
Went up the hill and then came down again.

But he did not find this coming down again so easy an undertaking. The descent was fearfully giddy—and, while he was sitting repentingly on a large stone, resting from his fatigueswith Gregory a little behind him, on another— both knight and squire looking wistfully, with

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most rueful countenances, over the steep mountain's side which they had to descend, their ears were assailed with the sharp shrill sounds of a female voice approaching them, and Miss Biddy Blossom, heard long before she was seen, at length appeared, dismounted, and attended by her two elegant beaux-who, with the utmost awkwardness and difficulty, contrived to stick upon their mules-while she was slowly clambering up the rugged ascent on foot-and talking all the way with all her might.—When she reached Lord Lumbercourt, to his unspeakable consternation, she threw herself down on the ground by his side-exclaiming― There now -I v'ont go no furder vid you, I'll keep vid my Lard-so I vill.'-But my Lord,' shrinking from her, said he was sorry he could not have the honour of attending her—as he was going down to Chamouni again.

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But Miss Biddy declared that then she would go down too-for, indeed, theorrors of the vay' quite made her 'vaint,' and Tom did nothing but laugh at her-and she was certain