that of P., who wholly regards the conscience as a moral eye,—as “conscience morale.”
We were interrupted by Rosenlaui Glacier, which all at once stood in astonishing beauty before us, but sent forth at the same time, such a current of cold air, as was less agreeable.
Rosenlaui is called a “Glacier des donnes,” partly for its beauty, and partly for its accessibility. It struck me by its human resemblance. Rosenhorn, the crag which rises highest in its midst, represents the head, and from the shoulders, down each side, falls an icy mantle in glittering whiteness. The tower-like crags, Wellhorn and Engelhorn, rise on the opposite side of the mountain throne on which the icy giantess has been seated these thousands of years, and between these, project her vast knees, richly draperied by her icy mantle, from below the deep folds of which, her immense foot is seen planted upon the smooth mountain. It is around this foot, that the human visitors circulate. In the full, deep drapery which falls around it, and which forms ice-closets, and passages, they peep in and out as if they were hiding from one another, and then gaze wondering up at the vast knee, which rises one hundred feet above their heads. The beautiful azure color of the ice in the deep folds or walls of the glacier, has not as yet been satisfactorily explained, though many have endeavored variously to account for it.
It was remarkably beautiful this afternoon, although the sky was cloudy and soon vailed both the glacier and its visitors in cold rain. Many strangers had come up with us hither from the little town. The
