than mine, managed to get up has never been satisfactorily explained. At the next stage the crack narrows, and a stone has conveniently jammed itself exactly where it is wanted; beyond, the right-hand side of the crack gets broken, and it is a matter of comparative ease to pull oneself on to the top. This top then forms a narrow, but perfectly easy and level, path to the gully leading up to the hole in the ridge. We found this hole or doorway guatded by a great splinter of rock, so loose that an unwary touch would probably have been resented with remorseless severity, and the impertinent traveller hurled on to the Nantillon Glacier. Squeezing through, we stepped on to a little plateau covered with the débris of frost-riven rock.
Burgener then proposed, amid the reverent and appreciative silence of the company, that libations should be duly poured from a bottle of Bouvier. This religious ceremony having been fittingly observed (the Western form, I take it, of the prayers offered by a pious Buddhist on reaching the crest of some Tibetan pass), we proceeded to attack a little cleft overhanging the Mer de Glace, and cleverly protected at the top by a projecting rock. Above this we found ourselves in a sort of granite crevasse, and as this, so far as we could discover, had no bottom, we had to hotch ourselves along with our knees against one side, and our backs against the other. Burgener at this
