Col de Jon, lay below us filled with a sea of mist. From it protruded the dark mass of Mont Nery, connected with a sharp embattled ridge crested with scattered pines, and descending precipitously into the valley. The Val d'Aosta, too, as far as we could see it over the Col de Jon, was packed with a dense sea of rolling clouds, lying evenly like a vast glacier, and radiant in the bright sun; more beautiful than any unclouded view of the valley could have been.

A chamois-hunter stealing up the rocks on our right, towards the snow-sprinkled Marienhorn, was the only living object to be seen. He had come up with E. while I was at the châlet below, and she was not sorry when I joined them, as he was a most sinister-looking, suspicious character to meet with on a lone mountain. His grizzly, tangled beard and hair were set off by a cap of wild cat's-skin; a queerlooking, short rifle hung over his shoulders; he walked barefoot, carrying his shoes in his hands, until we reached the Col together, when he put them on to climb the rocks, and not long after we heard the crack of his rifle echoing among the rocks.

We stayed till sunset, and gradually the rosy tints which from east, south, and west alike characterise the Monte Rosa above all other mountains, and without doubt have given its name, began to steal over it. The dark valley of Gressoney was now filled from side to side with mist, like a gently waving bed of cotton-wool. The furrows and rifts of the rugged ranges opposite were softened down by the cool uniform shading of the closing evening-and all was sinking into sombre grey, when suddenly the last rays of the sun, already long set to us, lit up the glittering peaks of Monte Rosa with a perfectly startling and glorious effulgence of rosy crimson and pale gold. The relief of the dusky mountains and deeply-shaded valley heightened the wondrous effect of the scene of enchantment, and we gazed on its changing hues and aspect until the last rosy spot died away on the highest pinnacle, and the mighty

snow-fields and glaciers lay as if to rest in a death-like paleness, cold and grandly silent.

Night threatened to overtake us rapidly, as we had the whole descent to make, and, taking the regular path, we hastened down the rough zigzags, stumbling along, as best we could, in the dim twilight over broken ground. We soon dropped down into the cold and clammy mist which boiled up among the pines, and had considerable difficulty in making out the way, which was quite unknown to us, meeting with several awkward adventures. However, after an hour and a quarter's sharp descent, we found ourselves once more at the torrent-bed, at the mouth of the gorge, and a few minutes' groping through the meadows brought us back to Gressoney. The starry circlet of the Corona Borealis was shining through a solitary rift in the clouds above the Grauhaupt, and fitful flashes of mountain lightning flickered through the thin veil of mist.

CHAPTER XIII.

VAL DE LYS.

Expedition with Zumstein to Lys Glacier- Recent advance of glacier — Vegetation on the "Nase"- Salt-licks and chamois Gressoney la Trinité-Baron Peccoz- Projected expedition to Val de Cogne - The baron's collection: horns of bouquetin and chamois - Failure of ascent of Grauhaupt-Start for Cogne - Descent of Val de Lys- Issime Gorge of Guillemort - Fontainemore - Rich scenery-Gold-mines of Liliane - Val d'Aosta - St. Martin to Fort Bard.

On the morning fixed for our expedition with M. Zumstein to the Lys Glacier we rose at four, and, after a hasty breakfast, started for Noversch, E. going on in advance, wishing to take the first part of the long day's walk easily. The sun rose, tipping the highest mountains, and gradually tinging the snowy Lyskam as his ruddy rays crept round the flank of Monte Rosa. The air was deliciously fresh after a night's shower, and only a few little fleecy clouds, which floated across the valley and caught the rosy light, were to be seen on the face of the brilliantly blue sky. Having been detained packing the provisions and finding a porter to carry them, I only caught E. up as she had reached Noversch. Zumstein was ready waiting for us, alpenstock in hand, a telescope slung on his shoulder, and his chasseur's bag at his side with provisions.

We started at once, and took it leisurely up to Gressoney la Trinité, as there was much to interest us, especially with our cicerone's acquaintance with every feature of mountain and valley. Beyond Noversch a very singular horn rises from the mountains on the left, and apparently difficult of access, but he pointed out to us a stone man" placed there by himself many years before. On the wall by the road

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side we found the beautiful little Lycopodium Helveticum in abundance, and in profuse fructification, a comparatively rare occurrence, as I do not ever remember to haveseen it so fruited before or since. The enormous masses of nude serpentine rock and mountain on each side of the valley are most wonderful, and the piles of similar fragments, where sometimes a mountain seems to have blown up and settled down in a heap of ruins, is extraordinary. The serpentine, where it is not oxidized by the action of the air, is of a fine dark green and extremely compact, and would be a mine of wealth if in some situation accessible for land or water carriage. As it is, this vast storehouse may probably remain till the end of time, unavailable for any human purpose, but the building of a hut or a mountain wall.

Just below Noversch the Lys torrent forces its way through a deep chasm in this formation; and on looking down from the path into the boiling current far beneath, the rocks are rounded and beautifully polished by its action. One long smooth mass lying in the centre, as the water washed over and round it, looked like a huge green hippopotamus wallowing in the stream. Near Gressoney la Trinité a break in the chain on the right disclosed the Netsch glacier, and above it the snow peak of the Weiss Horn; a gloomy and stern-looking region on the northern side. Opposite to it, above our left, we were now able to see the whole of the Grauhaupt, a grand craggy peak commanding a splendid view of Monte Rosa, and we halted some time while Zumstein pointed out the way to the ascent of its awful-looking pinnacle. This we hoped in a few days to be able to accomplish, and we were all excited at the prospect, Zumstein not less than ourselves. It is next to Monte Rosa in height of all the neighbouring peaks. Beyond it again was the Roth Horn, which derives its name from the reddish mica schist which forms the summit, resting on a long bed of serpentine, the line of division between the two distinctly visible to the

naked eye. De Saussure ascended it with his son for the view of Monte Rosa,* and Zumstein had made it a point for his trigonometrical observations.

Passing the track which turns off at the right, at a little auberge, to the Col d'Ollen, and that to the Furca de Betta on the left, we continued on up the valley, past Am Bett, the spacious hunting-box of Baron Peccoz, and the track ended among pleasant, grassy, rocky banks and larch thickets. Ferns and flowering plants were abundant, and we filled the vasculum with choice specimens. Amongst them Lycopodium selaginoides was particularly plentiful and large. Zumstein gathered some specimens of Achillea atrata, and drew our attention to its remarkable perfume. He told us he had often thought it possible that its highly aromatic odour might be made use of, and in 1846 took some of the dried flowers to a celebrated chemist at Turin, and asked him if he could not make a liqueur from it. The experiment was highly successful, and the demand for the new cordial in a country where absinthe, vermuth, and other strongly flavoured liqueurs are in universal request, became so great that Zumstein for some time made each year from 200 to 300 francs by collecting the flowers. Of late years, however, he has given it up, and Delapierre now makes a considerable trade of them. Zumstein gave it the name of "Ebolebo," the provincial patois for the plant itself; it is sent from Turin to Paris and even to London, and, having tasted some that was sent us by friends at Gressoney, we can vouch for its excellence. Several other species of Achillea, as the nana, have also perfumed flowers, but not nearly so aromatic or agreeable as the atrata.

The glacier of Lys, which we now reached, had recently made extraordinary advances, and was then ploughing its way downward until it was approaching the ancient frontal

* Voyages, § 2154.