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generally granitic, while the outlying hills are for the most past Composed of ancient. stratified «rocks, tossed up into all sorts. of imelinations, ‘Che «most. careless visitor observes the bed form of many of the mountain masses, the strange contortions to which strata have in some places been subjected, like the foldings of an ill- put-up piece of cloth ina draper’s warehouse, and that we owe many of the prominent peaks to the hardness of some ofthe vertical strata, while neighbouring beds have been wearing down under the influence of the weather, and from other causes. There are, however, formations connected with the Alps, as high as the chalk and even the tertiary, and thus it has been ascer- tained that they are comparatively young hills—younger than the Pyrenees, younger than the Scottish hills, and even the Mendips—having necessarily been thrown up into their present arrangement subsequently to the de- position of those modern rocks. I somewhat startled a party of ladies and gentlemen in an Interlacken pen- sion, by one evening quietly mentioning this deduction of M. Elie de Beaumont, which may certainly be re- garded as one of the most interesting results of scientific investigation developed in our time. It was with no wish tovexaggerate the very natural wonder of our tea- table, but in the hope of kindling a love.of or reverance for science, that I proceeded to advert to the fact, that all these strata had. originally been detrital matter de- posited at the bottom of the sea; that, as proof of this, my friend might find the shells of sea animals (nummu- lites) on the tep of Mount Pilatus; and it might be said of several of those overpowering hills themselves that they had been built up to the praise of the Creator of heaven and earth by the immediate agency of animal- cules, limestone being regarded as a detritus from coxal reefs, [tis surely as well to know.a few such particu- jars when ome goes to see grand sights; for while it would doubtless be pedantic to analyse the Alps geolo- gically at every step, there is no necessary incompati- bility between.a sense of their picturesque effects and the apprehension of a history of their formation, which 18 even more of a marvel than their astounding magni- ficence, v The Alps spring from a general level of country, which; is far from low on the side of Switzerland ; at least it is. generally very much above the elevation of any inhabited ground in Scotland, Wales, or any other part of the British Islands. Coming from a land where 2U0 feet gives. an ungenial climate even in valleys, we are somewhat surprised to find Swiss villages looking sufficiently comfortable at 2500 feet, and even more. A great part,of the surface, however, ranges between 1200 and 1500 feet, and here the vine grows with tole- rable luxuriance in the less-expesed situations. The vast abundance of wood and water throtighout the whole country—ihe forwer extending up the hills to 6000 feet —the profusion .of quaintly-fashioned wooden houses scattered everywhere almost as high as the trees; the exquiste economy of the people, giving to the whole landscape a trimness which reminds one of gentlemen’s parks in England—these things, even without the gleam- ing broad-bosomed lakes, or the peaks shooting up amongst the everlasting snows, would make Switzer- land a delightful country fora rambler. Everybody, however, travels with some leading idea in his mind respecting the country which he visits. Mine in Swit- zerland was—the glaciers, I had pored over Saussure’s speculations on this subject in a family copy ef the En- cyclopedia Britannica, with which [ formed acquaitance in early boyhood; and since then, the more surprising speculation of Agassiz, and the accurate deductions of Professor Forbes, had deepened my interest in the sub- ject. It therefore appeared an essential part of my visit to Switzerland that | should form some sort of personal acquaintance with the ‘ice-falls’ of the Alps. it was early on one of the sunshiny days of the be- ginning of September that our party left their excellent quarters in the Hotel Berg at Geneva, and proceeded in the Sallenches diligence along the valley of the Arve on their way tothe aeighbourhood of Mont Blane. The road, after leaving the skirts of the lake, passes over an elevated alluvial plain, bordered by ranges of low hills, and intersected by a deep though narrow valley, in which runs the river. Here comes the first intima- tion of the snow of the Alps, for, the water being so strangely milky or turbid as to provoke inquiry, the stranger is informed that itis so from the infusion of pounded rock which the glaciers wear of the hills in their descent. The first few miles present.no other

wonder, besides the massive alluvial terraces bordering jalready hinted, rede a mule, while I determined to walk.

the river, along which the road proceeds. It seems difffenlt'to conceive, yet it is unquestionably true, that these are composed of gravel brought down from the Alps, and which water has been concerned in deposit- ing; the intermediate space having once been filled up, so as to make the whole one floor of small matters ex- tending from side to side of the valley. Ata place call- ed Cluses these features are no more’ seen, at least in the same degree ; and we then begin to traverse a narrow part of the valley, wiur sides of prodigious height and boldness; also to get peeps of the monarch of European mountains, though it is still a good way distant. Af- ter thirty-six miles of the coach, we have. to. transfer ourgelves, at the small town of Sallenches, into a light ride vehiele called a char-a-bane, fitted for the more ar- duous charcter of the fifteen miles which remain. This portion of the journey is along @ narrow road of aoe emplary sort of construction, ove? which we are under-,

good ta be driven by the most civil and good-natured of

charioteers ; whild it reality every one possessing any benevolence, and the use of his limbs, feels foreed to walk; the ascents being such as almost to defy horse- power, It was not till evening was closing in that, we began to get under the shade of Mont Blanc and his associates, and approached the end of our journey at Chamouni. Inever shall forget how [ was impressed, afew miles short of this point, by seeing a vast whitish projection from one side of the valley, and learning that it was the Glacier des Boissons, one of the ouilets of the great snow-field which covers the mountain. ‘The in- trusive character of these stupendous ice-rivers was thus strikingly seen. It descends through a long hollow in the side of the mountain, far below the line of per- petual snow, through the midst of woods and verdant slopes, and starts a mile or more into the valley, where smiling farm-steads and villages sit. securely by its win as knowing that thus far it may come, but no far- er.

The village of Chamouni, into which we drove after dark, is a curious establishment, as we may call it, be- ing a place existing almost solely at the dietation of human curiosity, and composed ‘exclusively of inna, guides’ naturalists, and others making a business a a livelihood of Mont Blanc. Lying 3425, feet above the sea, inaccessible to the sun’s rays for some months of the year, and enveloped in snow from October till May, it must be at some cost that the people adhere to it asa residence. The hotel-keepers actually desert the place in winter, having no customers to speak of, except in the months between Jure and an early period of autumn. Yet these hotels are at once very good, and far froin extravagant in their charges; and while all are tolerably neat buildings, there is a new one pre- paring which would be styled handsome in any part of the world. It is curious to observe the groups of guides and other loungers in the street, and to hear their con- versation wholly turned upon the amount, character, and appearance of the visitors ; who is in this inn, who has just come to that; the prospects of the weather for the ensning day with reference to its suitableness or unsuitableness for excursions; nothing thought of but what appertains to traveliers and their enjoyiments. There is no struggle, however, to appropriate. business among the strangers; for a public officer sees that each man, and even each mule, gets en ployment in strict ro- tation, and according to a fixed scale of charges. Of this I had an amusing proof next day when setting eut for the mountain ;. for having determined, ere a quarter of u mile from the village, to give up my mule, and take to my feet, while my lady companion should ride, and our guide having taken back the animal aceordingly, we soon after saw him returning with the same animal, together with a companion; he having now been re- minced that this horse was the one next in rotation for employment... He had therefore to shift the lady’s sad- die tothe horse which I had formerly ridden, and to send back her horse with his companion, to. whom, it probably belonged. They might adopt such regulations with advantage at Killarney, and.some other place at home and abroad.

{Tt was the first night after that of full moon, and the sky was without a cloud. Having rested a little while, and obtained some refreshment, we stepped out upon a balcony overhanging the garden of eur hotel, (Hotel de Londres), and there found a scene of mystic sublimity prepared for us. Near one of the upper peaks of Mont Blanc—I think the Dome du Goute—the luminary was perched, throwing a bright light npon those lofty sum- mits, and upon much of the more distant landscape. But the mountain face opposite to our position was a wall of darkness, which it almost appeared we might ‘stumble against if we should advance much farther to- | wards it—and so overwhelmingly lofty! This, assured- ‘ly, if so commonplace an expression may be tolerated, was a sight never to’ be forgotten. On the ensuing evening we had it repeated with little variation, besides one which gave a curious change of effect; namely, a fire lighted by some shepherd, which blazed faint and remote on the front of the wall of blackness, much like a fire balloon on the face of a dark cloud. It was diffi- cult to suppose that this fire was not less than 3000 feet above us, and perhaps three miles distant.

At anearly hour next morning I set out with one of ithe ladies in my charge, and a guide, to ascend toa ‘point on Mont Blane well known as the Montanvert, which is deemed a favourable spot for examining the celebrated glacier of the Mer de Glance. The lady, as

The sun was coming to his strength as we crossed the infant Arve, and commenced the ascent of the first slopes, which we found covered by little farms, and bearing much wood. A rough path, zig-zagging up the steep acclivity, ascends very nearly 3000 feet, and ‘to master this ageent requires betweentwo and three hours. ‘Tome it was a great exertion: to my lady friend the ‘mule ride was something more, as every now and then the animal was passing along rude cliffs, where a false step might have endangered life. We bore it, however, with exemplary fortitude. And here, by the way, [ may mention that our, guide—a worthy, kindhearted fellow, Pierre Cachat by name—described the English ladiesas by far the most courageous an.; energetic he had anything to do with in his profession ; the French the Jeast so. It was neat mid-day when we reached a rude small house of stone and lune, the auberge of Montanvert. Gladly did we enter to rest

already a few pedestrian excursionists had assembled. This post derives its whole importance from the spec- tacle on which we look down from its windows, the magnificent Merde Giace, It {afforded a convenient lodging to Mr. Forbes during his laborious investiga- tions on that glacier in 1842; and the tenant, David Couttet, points out with pride a flattering attestation im favour of the house and iimself inseribed by the learned professor in his album. Certainly nothing could be more homely than the whole place, and yet one can readily imagine its appearing even comfortable to one who had forced himself to abide fora time in sucha wilderness, Plain, too, as it is, it was built as an im- provement upon a mere cellar, which had existed before from the days ef Saussure, but whieh is now reduced to be only a receptacle for lumber. It was curious, at the height of 6242 feet on the skirts of Mont Blanc, to tind a small merchandise of jewellery and nicknacks carried on ; but such is the fact. Honest David has a few gtass-cases*containing bijouterie, ‘chi ed.of the erystals and pebbles brought down by the glaciers from the centra] and inaccessible places of the Alps, for such is one of the strange functions of these icy currents, One is surprised to learn that the house, jwith some neighbouring grazing-ground, pays 1400 francs by way of rent to the commune of Chamount

(To be concluded in our next.)

on oc te x 7 — 2

I LOVE YOU... I love you—’tis the simplest way The thing,I feel to tell; Yet if I told it all the day,” | You’d never guess how well; You are my comfort and my light— My very life you scem; I think of you all day; all night Tis but of you I dream.

There’s pleasttre in the lightest word That you can speakto me; »

My soul is like the Molian chord, And vibrates still to thee.

} never read the Jove song yet So thrilling, fond or true,

But in my own heart I have met Some kinder thought for you.

I-blessthe shadows on vour face, The light upon your hair—

1 like for hours to sit and trace The passing changes there ;

I love to hear your voice’s tone, Although you should not say

A single word to dream upon When that has died away.

Oh! you are kindly as the beam That warms where’er it plays,

And you are gentle as a dream

. Of happy future days— ;

And you are strong to do the right, And swift the wrong to flee—

And if you were not half se bright, You’re all the world to me.

_

To Yourn.—Attend to your business, Nothing so enables a man to prosperin this world as attendins strictly to his business—provided he has business to attend to; if he hasn’t he should make it a business to seck for some. ‘Business can never conduct itsef, any better than oxen can plough without ahandto guide the instrument. By attending to business you preserve health and accumulate wealth; but by neglecting it, you are apt to bring both bodily and mental ills upos you, and poverty is as certain a sequence as the blue ce- vils after a jolly spree.

Dare to do right. Let no man prevent you from per- forming what you conscientiously think to be your duty. Many a mortal man is frightened off’ the track of truth and righteousness by mere scarecrows, that have ne power in themselves of doing either harm or goo’.— Where there is a consciousness of right, there is a vast amount of might. This is the reason why I persevere in preaching. I know that I am right, and therefore go ahead like 2 locomotive on a wager.— Dow.

A Hieuranp, Sportsman ex Arrica--The Cape Frontier Times gives the following account of & sport- ing expedition of eleven months’ duration, the hero of which is Mr. Ruallyn Cumming, second son ot Sir William Gordon Cumming, Bart, of Altyre, who, a few years ago, was the foremost. sportsman in the North o! Ireland :—“ In this expedition it is said he has pene- trated many hundred miles beyoud the furthest point reached by any white,man. He shot forty-three elr- phants, three of which only were females. Many of th» males carried tusksof an enormous size, measurin, seven feet in length, and sometimes weighing one hur- dred pounds each, Sixty hippopotami, the finost of the troops to which they belonged liaving been'singled ort for slaughter. Such is the abundance of this game, that with his rife, he might have killed two hundred of them, The rhinoceros, buffalo, cameleopard, elaw’, geimsbok, roan, antelope, waterbuck, hartebeest, sasabr.

black and blue wildebeest; Koodoo, pallah, zebra, rie’-

bok, klipspringer, $c. weré found by him ia such great

and obtain some refreshment in its humble salle, where!

abundance, that he rearly expended his shot upom them,