members of the party, the passing years had not been able, so far, to work havoc in either muscle, wind or nerve. But these speculations are absurd; I forget that inspiration was enshrined in our party. Doubtless the presence of two ladies, who had honoured us with their company, endued us with a strength and agility that no mere guides, or even youthful activity, could hope to rival. Our progress to the first summit was, in consequence, a mere series of easily-won victories.
From that point, we strode along the ridge, scaling on the way the curious pinnacle, most irreverently known as Wicks' stick, and finally squeezing through a very narrow letter-box[1] to the last summit. When we were ready to descend, we managed to find a more convenient way down the final tower, and reached the head of the great couloir that divides the Grépon from the Charmoz, without difficulty. We descended this with much trepidation, for the stones were loose, and we were a very large party. Happily no one was hit except Pasteur, and he, to all appearances, rather enjoyed it than otherwise.
Our descent of the ice-slope to the breakfasting rocks was cheered by the sight of a great array
- ↑ A letter-box is the name given in the Montenvers district to split rocks. Such rocks are very frequently met with among the Chamonix Aiguilles, and are utilised either horizontally as passages, or perpendicularly, by dint of much wriggling and wedging, as ladders.
