balance was much increased: a single false step might have been fatal, and the view of the immense distance we must in that case inevitably fall, tended to unnerve the mind. From the excessive slowness of our progress, we had ample time to contemplate the awful depths below, for we were obliged to pause perpetually, while the guides were making the steps. After proceeding in this way for about an hour, we arrived, by a very steep slope, at the base of the Grand Mulet, a name given to a ridge of rocks, or rather a single rock, which rises almost perpendicularly to a great height, out of the eternal snow which surrounds it on all sides, and which is, from the nature of its construction, generally bare of snow itself. In ascending this ridge, we had a new species of danger to contend with. Our steps were all upon loose fragments of the rock, which was schistous. These occasionally gave way beneath our tread, and fell, with a tremendous noise, into the depths below. Owing, however, to the caution of our excellent guides, who perpetually warned us against suspicious stones, we surmounted this perilous ascent without any accident. Once or twice, indeed, a few stones from above alarmed us by whizzing past us, but some one of the guides being constantly on the look out, advertized us in time of the danger, which we evaded by crouching down in some of the hollows. On the whole, we found the ascent of this rock less formidable than we had anticipated from its first appearance; for though we occasionally had to climb round projecting points, where we seemed to be suspended in mid air, yet, for the most part, a false step would have only carried us down to some shelf a few feet lower, which would have received us. I must except, however, the last twenty or thirty yards, which lay over a ridge exactly like Striden-edge on Helvellyn, in the north of England; from which we had a view of a precipice on each side of the most awful depth, and with very precarious footing; for here the guides could not make the usual notches, from the hardness of the rock.

At half-past four we reached the summit of the ridge, where we were to pass the night; having been about eleven hours and a half walking and climbing, almost without intermission. We did not, however, feel much fatigue, and the slowness of our late progress, had probably prevented our suffering, from shortness of breath, though we had now risen into an atmosphere of considerable rarity.

Here, we discovered evident traces of the bivouac of the preceding year: some charcoal still remained, which had served for fuel, and even some scanty remnants of the straw, on which the party had slept. Our guides soon constructed for us a kind of tent. Being lodged on a sort of shelf on the western side of the ridge, and about ten feet below its summit, we sloped the ladder

and a few of our walking-poles against the perpendicular rock, the lower ends resting on a low barrier, partly artificial and partly natural, which raised itself between our couch, and a frightful precipice. The width of this ledge was hardly five feet, so that we preferred arranging ourselves longitudinally. Some canvass was stretched over the poles, the straw was spread on the ground, and the blankets upon it, and thus we prepared to pass a very comfortable night; but scarcely had we got under cover than it began to rain, and in about an hour we had a violent thunderstorm, which continued, with but little intermission, during the whole night. This made us congratulate ourselves that we had been over-ruled by the guides to halt here for the night; for Dr. Hamel, fearful lest, by the present arrangement, he should not have sufficient time on the summit for his experiments, had proposed our mounting still higher. The guides expressed great reluctance to leave the Grand Mulet, telling us, that higher up there was no shelter for us against the avalanches, which might fall during the night, and thus induced us to remain. After all our labour for so many hours, we did not feel much fatigued, which we attributed to the bracing air of the mountain. The evening now closed in upon us so fast, that we were obliged to eat our dinner nearly in the dark, and arrange ourselves for the night, without much regard to personal convenience. Indeed, the roof of our tent was so low, that we could only move on our hands and knees, and that at the imminent risk of bringing it all down upon us, by displacing the poles with our back, which, as we had disposed large stones on the outside to keep the canvass steady, would not have been very agreeable. This induced me to submit, without repining, to a very inconvenient place on the shelf, being that nearest to the precipice, where the covering of the tent was so low, that it touched my head as I lay, and, during the night, owing to the bagging of the canvass from the rain, I received more than my proper share of water. storm preventing us from making the promised display of fireworks to the ladies below, we were obliged to content ourselves with drinking their healths in some excellent Burgundy; but we found one bottle of this heat us so much, that we did not venture upon any more without first diluting it with water. The novelty of our situation, and our great flow of spirits, occasioned partly, no doubt, by the Burgundy, left us little inclination for sleep for some hours. These were spent in listening alternately to the peals of thunder, which seemed to hover round us, and the roaring of the avalanches, now near, now more remote. The more practised ear of the guides distinguished readily between these sounds, which we were perpetually confounding. From an experiment, which Dr. Hamel made with his electrometer, he found all the surrounding atmosphere so highly charged

The

with the electric fluid, that he was glad to withdraw it instantly: within the canvass. All this time, our tent was every now and then lit up by the vivid flashes of the lightning, and as often left in the deepest gloom. At length, we ceased even to watch this interesting spectacle, and gradually dropped asleep, with the comfortable conviction, that we need not leave our beds at a very early period, since it must be some hours, at least, before the snow would be fit to support our weight. The prospect in the morning was dreary enough; a thick fog shrouding from our view all the neighbouring heights, as well as every thing below us. Our situation resembled that of some shipwrecked mariners, whom the morning finds sheltered on some precipitous rock, in the midst of the sea. After a few minutes spent in contemplating our position, and speculating on the chances of extricating ourselves from it, we all agreed in postponing the discussion till after breakfast, for which we now felt a strong appetite. Having kindled our charcoal, and boiled some portable soup, which reminded me strongly of melted glue, though on that oocasión we all rated it to be excellent, and dispatched two more of the roasted fowls, we felt quite recruited, and ready for any attempt except that of returning, at the very thought of which our spirits revolted. The way was now equally dangerous to advance or retreat; or rather the latter, on examination, was found impossible; and it was soon too late to proceed upwards, since it is absolutely necessary to return to the same rock to sleep, so that, at length, we made up our minds to pass another night in our present bivouac. About noon, the weather cleared up, and two of the guides were dispatched below to the Prieuré, for a fresh supply of provisions, as well as to convey tidings of our safety to our friends below; who, as we had anticipated, had suffered much alarm on our account. They were to meet us on our return from the summit the following day, at this place. It was long before we could acquiesce in the necessity of spending the whole day on the summit of the Grand Mulet. The space allotted us was so confined, and the arrangement of our shelter so inconvenient, having barely room enough to sit upright, that we were prepared to encounter any difficulty, rather than continue in our present situation. Four of the guides, including our two leaders, slept under the same canvass with ourselves; the remaining eight disposing themselves in clefts of the rock, the apertures to which they blocked up with stones, were posted at different intervals below us. During the morning, being desirous of stretching my limbs, and practising a little climbing about the rock, I paid them all a visit, and conversed with them on the state of the weather, and the possibility of advancing to a point higher up against the approach of night. This was strongly objected to by them all, for the reasons above specified. On regaining our

own elevated post, I felt quite exhausted for a short interval, which I referred to the weakness arising from the exertions of the day before, but the guides assured me it proceeded entirely from the rarity of the atmosphere, and had been experienced by a party of themselves, whom we had sent a short distance downwards in search of water. Soon afterwards, I saw Pierre Carrier set off by himself, in the direction of our ascent, to examine the state of the snow. We followed him with our eyes for above half a mile, as he proceeded, very laboriously, up to his knees at every step; and thus received a palpable proof of the impossibility of proceeding further, which was confirmed by his own statement on his return. We had all received abundant proof of the intrepidity and address of this man during the ascent of the preceding day. During the passage of the glacier, he was the oracle of the party, being generally one hundred yards in advance to explore the way, and carrying the hatchet to make the steps. Oftentimes, we discovered him standing, with the greatest apparent unconcern, on some elevated point of ice, from which he made his reconnoissance, and directed us accordingly by a motion of his hand. On ordinary occasions, he frequently suffered others to take the lead; but I observed that, on every occasion of perplexity, he found himself at the head of the party; and while others, and especially poor Pierre Balmat, were eloquent in recommending this or that passage, a single word or wave of the hand from Carrier settled the point at once. This man was by trade a blacksmith, and did not exercise the profession of guide on common occasions, but always accompanied travellers in the ascent of Mont Blanc. He had already made the ascent eleven times; having been several times with one or two other guides, merely for the sake of exploring the passage. Alas! this was destined to be his last attempt: but I must not anticipate.

Shortly after our arrival on the Grand Mulet, we put on our additional clothing, and dried our shoes and stockings, which were completely saturated with moisture, from our long march over the snow. In consequence of these precautions, we did not suffer much from cold during the whole of our stay; for at night, the canvass being closed, and eight persons crowded into a very small compass, we felt comfortable enough. Our amusements, during the day of our compelled halt, were very similar to those of a picquet on an outpost, which commands a view of the enemy's camp; for the greater part of the time was spent in looking through an excellent telescope belonging to M. Sellique, and in reconnoitring the ground below. From our elevated post, we saw distinctly the windows of our hotel at the Prieuré, and sometimes fancied we discovered some one there watching us in a similar manner. Sometimes, we lounged over a pamphlet

of Saussure's* ascent, from which we gathered that he had taken a day and a half to arrive at our present situation, accompanied by eighteen guides. We made arrangements for letting off our rockets at night, and some considerable time was occupied in mending one of Dr. Hamel's barometers, an air-bubble having found its way into the tube during the ascent of the day before. I was employed in making a bottle of lemonade for the following day, when it was pronounced excellent, and proved an admirable substitute for the wine, against which our feverish palates revolted.

[To be concluded in our next.]

ON HAMLET.

MR. EDITOR-The following extract, translated from a popular romance of the celebrated Goethe, on the subject of Shakspeare's Hamlet, may be acceptable to those of your readers, who are unacquainted with the original work. The title of the book is "Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre ;" or, the Apprenticeship of William Meister. It is a fictitious biography of an actor; and the principal topics it embraces relate to the stage. The translator has ventured to subjoin a few ideas of his own on the same subject.

"In this enquiry," replied William," the first idea that presents itself is that of a prince, whose father died unexpectedly, and in whom the ruling passion is not ambition. He had lately experienced, in their plenitude, all the advantages that belonged to his situation as a king's son: but his eyes are now, on a sudden, opened to the wide interval, which separates the monarch from the subject. The crown of Denmark was not hereditary, it is true; yet, had his father been allowed a longer life, that circumstance alone would have greatly strengthened the pretensions of an only son to the succession, if not entirely secured it; whereas the intervention of his uncle (notwithstanding his specious behaviour towards Hamlet) has probably excluded him from it for ever. He sees himself, at the same time, deprived of all influence in the state, and a stranger to those privileges, which he had, from his infancy, considered as his birthright. Here is the commencement of his melancholy. He perceives that he is of no more consequence, perhaps of less, than any other nobleman of the court.

As this name has already occurred more than once, it will be proper to inform the reader, that he was a gentleman of Geneva, who, in August 1787, succeeded in reaching the summit of Mont Blanc. This was the year following the first ascent, made by Dr. Paccard. Since that time, there have been five or six successful attempts, amidst a great number of failures. During the course of thirty-three years, no fatal accident had ever occurred; two accidents only are mentioned, from both of which the sufferers recovered.