Plateau seemed to me about the length of Eaton-square, but broader. With yellow faces, but cheerful minds, we crossed this great expanse of ice, and were told to hurry over the ditch that separated the wall before us, and which we were about to climb. Simon now took the long pole-axe, with a hatchet on one side and a bent spike on the other, and began smashing the ice quickly and cleverly. Though but a flimsy staircase, we went all the faster, being as good on our feet as any of the guides. This was a hard pull; and after some hard work in the ravines, we came out on La Vallée, the largest field we had seen, wider than the length of the Plateau, and stretching in an inclination above us like the horizon of the ocean.

We were now to look out for the mountains of the opposite side of Mont Blanc-namely, the Great St. Bernard and the Bernese Alps; they were long in appearing; at last, like land at sea, they showed above this wearisome Vallée. To the left of our line was the Géant and the Mont Maudit, which formed one horn, while the terrible Mur de la Côte formed the other horn, to the right of the crescent, in which we stood, as regards our right and left, though it formed a dome as regards our line of march.

Here the air was very scanty, and the nodding endemic became very strong; superfluous clothing was now thrown aside, and we began to climb the Côte in a strait line over its centre, on an angle of 40 degrees at the least. The Côte was mostly snow, and we at last crawled to its summit, when behold! before us the last and highest dome of the mountain appeared. I looked nowhere, except at the way I was to go, and went over the last valley behind Tournier, who was first. I cast myself loose from the rest, and with our last strength we attacked our last difficulty. This dome, indeed, looked like Mont Blanc in itself, but its symmetrical form-a perfect pyramid, I should think about as high as St. Paul's-was assurance that here was the Monarch's Crown indeed. A small rock protruded from the middle of the ascent, and thither I told Tournier to cut the steps. The inclination was the footing was of the firmest and clearest ice. hour we were told would bring us to the top. rope, and told Tournier he should have five francs to let me pull

steep, but here Another halfI tightened my

myself after him. I did so for a few minutes, while he hewed the steps in the ice, which sometimes came out in one block, and went rattling down the dome with a noise like a loose tile from the top of a house roof. I and Tournier were some yards before the others, when Frasserand, seeing the desperate work of Tournier, wanted to go before and take his turn at the axe, but Tournier said doggedly, "C'est impossible," and on we went. At length we lay down on the ice, declaring we would sleep 10 minutes; but Tournier would not listen to this. He said, "Three minutes more, and we are on the summit." I got up, and am glad to recollect that I pulled Tournier after me this time, and, sure enough, the top was reached. I was astonished at the rate at which my English friend and Frasserand came after us. Throughout the ascent we neither of us required the slightest help, except where we crossed over obstructions, and when the awful words, "Place! Place!" were given we were on foot in a moment; for on the Vallée and the Côte we were obliged to drop down occasionally, and felt wofully inclined to sleep.

The summit extends about 70 yards, running east and west, the west end being some five yards higher than the east. The width is about 20 or 30 yards, and the surface was of heavy snow, ankle deep. The reflection made the heat intense, while on the last ascent the wind was bitterly cold as it came round the icy dome.

We reached the summit at 11 o'clock, and a flag was erected. All Chamounix was in a state of triumph, and it is said that cannons were going off. After a general survey I sat down, turned to my roll of paper, and made Devouassond hold it up. I looked at the paper, then at the astonishing landscape. Fearful to lose time in drawing, I took a few of the prominent lines where the view was clear of clouds, but we were obliged to commence our descent in two hours for fear of being benighted.

I was as strongly impressed with the view as if I had been looking at it for the whole day. The Bernese Oberland appeared like a mass of mountains packed in clouds; their peaks rose from the clouds, which seemed to fill the villages. Monte Rosa and the Wetterhorn appeared beyond, and on that

side no real horizon appeared. To the south the Genoese mountains, and over them, a long purple mist, whether the Mediterranean or not, was uncertain. Towards Lyons the clouds were low, and nothing was seen but the line of Jura stretched far, and beyond it the Côte d'Or. Not a vapour obstructed the glare of the sun above us. We were looking as it were at many contemporaneous days. Our own day was fine; that at Lyons appeared otherwise, as also those in the valleys of the Oberland. Beyond Mount Jura the horizon appeared like a sea of faint blue. The Lake of Geneva was distinctly seen by some, but I did not distinguish it. So extraordinary a scene exceeded my expectations, and the time we were on the summit seemed but a few minutes. I took another sketch at the foot of the Côte, and another at our next resting place, and one the previous evening at the Grands Mulets-in all four; and with them I hope to convey some idea of the wonderful view, to recal to my mind a scene which is rarely enjoyed twice. We commenced our descent at one, and reached Chamounix at midnight.

PLEADING WITH GOD.

Abraham teaches us the right way of conversing with God"And Abraham fell on his face, and God talked with him." When we plead with him, our faces should be in the dust: we shall not then speak lightly of him, nor complain; nor will there be any more boasting. We shall abase ourselves, and exalt God. The Christian's secret iutercourse with God will make itself manifest to the world. We may not see the husbandman cast the seed into the ground, yet when the corn The mere grows and ripens we know that it was sown. professor, who may be found every where but in his secret chamber, may think that with care he shall pass for a good Christian; but he mistakes, for the spirit will discover itself, of what sort he is. He who would walk safely and honorably, must walk closely with God in secret.-Cecil.

POETRY.

THE SWALLOW.

The visitress of man on earth,
She resteth not her flagging wing,
But seeks at once the blessed roof,
To which in youth she loved to cling;
She feedeth not on earthy food,
But glancing through the sunny sky,
Turns from the very element,
To gather immortality.

For who hath ever found her grave,
Or seen her beauteous form decay,
When wintry death is prowling round,
Where lives she then-Aloft, Away.
Her flight is won, but hath she left
Nought but her clay-built nest behind,
No treasure to reward her host,
No moral to refresh his mind?

Yes, she hath shown him constant love,
Contentment with her humble lot,
And scorn of earth o'er which his soul
Passeth-like her-but tarrieth not.

E. W. B.

AN EVENING MEDITATION.
I love to watch yon little western cloud,
So brightly colour'd by the setting sun,
See how it lessens, lost each glorious hue,
Touches the veil of twilight-and is gone.

Oh! grant my soul, kind heaven, a doom like this—
So soft, so mild, to quit these bonds of clay;
To shine awhile in friendship's partial eye,
Then, like yon happy vapour, pass away.

E. W. B.