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MIMILI.
55

with the roaring of the most terrific tempest, to the bottom of the abyss.

I sprung up, affrighted, from the mossy seat, raising my hands instinctively above my head. I imagined that the everlasting Alps were toppling about our ears. The ground shook under us: the snow, like a cloud of brilliants sparkling in the radiance of evening, flew far around, and even fell in a light shower at our feet.

“What was that? For Heaven’s sake, what was that, Mimili?” cried I, seeking, with impatient look, the shortest way by which we might escape into the valleys.

“I am glad—heartily glad you have seen that,” rejoined my companion, with emotion, but yet with a smile. “Such circumstances happen around us almost every day; but we do not always see them so near or so distinctly as we saw this. Was it not a grand—a magnificent spectacle? That was an avalanche.”

“That an avalanche! But are they not said to be very dangerous?”

“The summer avalanches are not; they happen only in our highest mountains, which are not visited by man: but those which fall towards the end of winter, frequently do a great deal of mischief. When the snow begins to thaw, then it is very dangerous travelling in our valleys. Owing to the slightest concussion of the air, frequently to the mere tinkling of the bells of the