agony over. At that miserable time, I suddenly
heard my friend shouting from above. He
had gone to look if he could discern the guide;
and, when he turned round to retrace his steps,
had been thunderstruck to see the surface of
the glacier intersected by innumerable crevasses,
all so similar in appearance as to leave him no
landmark by which to know my living grave.
Thank Heaven! he had caught sight of a little
knapsack left at the mouth of the crevasse
by the guide. This had directed him back.
I called to him to look at his watch—five
minutes more were past. The cold was growing
more intense. It is no figure of speech to say,
that I felt the blood freezing in my veins.
I called to him again, to know if any one were
in sight. It was thirty-five minutes since the
guide had started, but not a soul was visible.
It was most unlikely that he could be back so
soon, for we ourselves had been three-quarters
of an hour in coming thus far.

I felt that I could hold out but a very short time
longer; and besides that, I did not know at what
moment the little ledge, which was my only
safety, might give way under my weight. I
remembered that I had a large clasp-knife in my
pocket, and I determined to try to rescue myself
with its aid. I called to my fellow-traveller
above that I was going to attempt it. He
implored me not to try; but my situation was
becoming so desperate, that I did try. I began by
making a little hole in the ice as high up as I
could reach, large enough to admit one hand.
My next endeavour was to cut a deep foothole
about two feet above the ledge. I succeeded in
this, and found that by placing my foot in it,
holding fast by the place I had made for my
hand, and, at the same time, pressing with my
back against the opposite side of the crevasse
with all my strength, I was able to raise myself
and stand firmly in my new position. I again
let myself down on the ledge, and commenced
cutting another foothole, about two feet above
the last. It seemed to me possible that in this
manner I might escape from my icy prison;
but, a single slip or a false step, and I knew I
must be precipitated down the crevasse.

I was working diligently at the second foothole,
when I heard a joyful shout from above.
"They are in sight—three men with ropes—
running as hard as they can!"

I steadied myself on my terribly narrow and
slippery footing, in order to be able to seize and
attach the rope when thrown to me. I saw the
end of it dangling over my head. "Merciful
God! It will not reach me! It is too short!"
"We have got another rope," was answered
from above; and it was knotted on and lowered.
I caught the end, and tied it firmly round my
waist. Grasping the rope above, with both
hands, I gave the word. The strain began, and
I felt that I was safe. In another minute I was
standing on the glacier. I had been fifty
minutes in the crevasse, during which time I
had not lost consciousness for a single instant.

When I felt myself once more upon a firm footing,
an all-pervading sense of gratitude for the
wonderful escape I had had came over me
and made me faint, and I should have fallen if
they had not held me up. This was soon over,
and we prepared to start for Montanvert. Before
leaving I took a last look at the mouth of the
crevasse, which had so nearly been my sepulchre.
I saw that it would have been utterly impossible
to climb out, as I had been trying to do. The
mouth was so wide that, as I approached it, I
could have had no support from behind; and
without such support, not even a cat could have
scaled the perpendicular wall.

Our guide was in a terrible state, and
had run the whole way to Montanvert; but
could find no rope fit for the purpose in the
house. He was in despair, and was starting off
to Chamouny, when two muleteers met him.
Their mules were laden with wood fastened on
with ropes; he begged hard for those ropes,
telling the men that a young Englishman was
being frozen to death in a crevasse. They
threw the wood from the backs of the mules,
and came to my rescue with the guide, bringing
the ropes with them. Knotted together (it
seemed there were three in all), they made up
a length—about sixty feet—enough to reach me.

With the assistance of my deliverers, I was
able to walk slowly back to Montanvert. Here
I was immediately put into a comfortable bed,
where the injuries I had received (which were
insignificant considering the depth I had fallen)
were carefully dressed. I dreamed, with
unspeakable dread, of what had happened, when
lying in that bed, and I have dreamed of it in
many beds since. I believe that nothing would
induce me to go among ice and snow now, without
a long and strong rope. I offer the caution
to all other travellers in Switzerland, out of a
great experience and a great escape.

GOYON THE MAGNIFICENT.

THERE skims past me along the Corso, with
wheels that spin and glisten in the sun like
looking-glass, a light open carriage lined with
white, with a dazzling plumed chasseur,
in green and gold, on the box. Driver
holds his reins well forward, as though he
were directing a drosky, and has his flying
steeds well in hand; and there are two superb
gold-laced lay figures reposing languidly back,
draped with all art, and undisguised intent of
being on view. No men but Frenchmen can
group so effectually for carriage exercise, or
exhibit such harmonious poses plastiques when
driving. They are swept away in a cloud of
dust; but some one whispers that I have seen
Goyon the Magnificent! There has come about,
as the world knows, a fifth or sixth invasion of
Rome by the barbarians, and Brennus, in
jackboots and snowy breeches, is chief of the army
of occupation.

Not a man, but an institution. Not only Captain
of the Gauls, but dramatic representative of
his sovereign, he is on the boards from morning
until night; at church or at state, sacred or