A glacier, when really understood, is one of the most astonishing and impressive spectacles which the whole face of Nature exhibits. Mr. George and Rollo explored quite a number of them in the course of their travels in Switzerland; and Rollo would have liked to have explored a great many more.

A glacier is a river of ice,—really and truly a river of ice,—sometimes two or three miles wide, and fifteen or twenty miles long, with many branches coming into it. Its bed is a steep valley, commencing far up among the mountains in a region of everlasting ice and snow, and ending in some warm and pleasant valley far below, where the warm sun beats upon the terminus of it and melts the ice away as fast as it comes down. It flows very slowly, not usually more than an inch in an hour. The warm summer sun beams upon the upper surface of it, melting it slowly away, and forming vast fissures and clefts in it, down which you can look to the bottom, if you only have courage to go near enough to the slippery edge. If you do not dare to do this, you can get a large stone and throw it in; and then, if you stand still and listen, you hear it thumping and thundering against the sides of the crevasse until it gets too deep to be any longer heard. You cannot hear it strike the bottom; for it is sometimes seven or eight hundred feet through the thickness of the glacier to the ground below.

The surface of the glacier above is not smooth and glassy like the ice of a freshly-frozen river or pond; but is white, like a field of snow. This appearance is produced in part by the snow which falls upon the glacier, and in part by the melting of the surface of the ice by the sun. From this latter cause, too, the surface of the glacier is covered, in a summer's day, with streams of water, which flow, like little brooks, in long and winding channels which they themselves have worn, until at length they reach some fissure, or crevasse, into which they fall and disappear. The waters of these brooks—many thousands in all—form a large stream, which flows along on the surface of the ground under the glacier, and comes out at last, in a wild, and roaring, and turbid torrent, from an immense archway in the ice at the lower end, where the glacier terminates among the green fields and blooming flowers of the lower valley.

The glaciers are formed from the avalanches which fall into the upper valleys in cases where the valleys are so deep and narrow and so secluded from the sun that the snows which slide into them cannot melt. In such case, the immense accumulations which gather there harden and solidify, and become ice; and, what is very astonishing, the whole mass, solid as it is, moves slowly onward down the valley, following all the turns and indentations of its bed, until finally it comes down into the warm regions of the lower valleys, where the end of it is melted away by the sun as fast as the mass behind crowds it forward. It is certainly very astonishing that a substance so solid as ice can flow in this way, along a rocky and tortuous bed, as if it were semi-fluid; and it was a long time before men would believe that such a thing could be possible. It was, however, at length proved beyond all question that this motion exists; and the rate of it in different glaciers at different periods of the day or of the year has been accurately measured.

If you go to the end of the glacier, where it comes out into the lower valley, and look up to the icy cliffs which form the termination of it, and watch there for a few minutes, you soon see masses of ice breaking off from the brink and falling down with a thundering sound to the rocks below. This is because the ice at the extremity is all the time pressed forward by the mass behind it; and, as it comes to the brink, it breaks over and falls down. This is one evidence that the glaciers move.

But there is another proof that the ice of the glaciers is continually moving onward which is still more direct and decisive. Certain philosophers, who wished to ascertain positively what the truth was, went to a glacier, and, selecting a large rock which lay upon the surface of it near the middle of the ice, they made a red mark with paint upon the rock, and two other marks on the rocks which formed the shore of the glacier. They made these three marks exactly in a line with each other, expecting that, if the glacier moved, the rock in the centre of it would be carried forward, and the three marks would be no longer in a line.

This proved to be the case. In a very short time the central rock was found to have moved forward very perceptibly. This was several years ago. This rock is still on the glacier; and the red mark on it, as well as those on the shores, still remains. All the travellers who visit the glacier look at these marks and observe how the great rock on the ice moves forward. It is now at a long distance below the place where it was when its position was first recorded.

Then, besides, you can actually hear the glaciers moving when you stand upon them. It is sometimes very difficult to get upon them; for at the sides where the ice rubs against the rocks, immense chasms and fissures are formed, and vast blocks both of rock and ice are tumbled confusedly together in such a manner as to make the way almost impracticable. When, however, you fairly get upon the ice, if you stand still a moment and listen, you hear a peculiar groaning sound in the moraines. To understand this, however, I must first explain what a moraine is. On each side of the glacier, quite near the shore, there is usually found a ridge of rocks and stones extending up and down the glacier for the whole length of it, as if an immense wall formed of blocks of granite of prodigious magnitude had been built by giants to fence the glacier in, and had afterwards been shaken down by an earthquake, so as to leave only a confused and shapeless ridge of rocks and stones. These long lines of wall-like ruins may be traced along the borders of the glacier as far as the eye can reach. They lie just on the edge of the ice, and follow all the bends and sinuosities of the shore. It is a mystery how they are formed. All that is known, or rather all that can be here explained, is, that they are composed of the rocks which cleave off from the sides of the precipices and mountains that border the glacier, and that, when they have fallen down, the gradual movement of the ice draws them out into the long, ridge-like lines in which they now appear. Some of these moraines are of colossal magnitude, being in several places a hundred feet broad and fifty or sixty feet high; and, as you cannot get upon the glacier without crossing them, they are often greatly in the traveller's way. In fact, they sometimes form a barrier which is all but impassable.

The glacier which most impressed Mr. George and Rollo with its magnitude and grandeur was one that is called the Sea of Ice. It is called by this name on account of its extent. Its lower extremity comes out into the valley of Chamouni, the beautiful and world-renowned valley, which lies near the foot of Mont Blanc. In order to reach this glacier, the young gentlemen took horses and guides at the inn at Chamouni, and ascended for about two hours by a steep, zigzag path, which led from the valley up the sides of the mountain at the place which formed the angle between the great valley of Chamouni and the side valley through which the great glacier came down. After ascending thus for six or eight miles, they came out upon a lofty promontory, from which, on one side, they could look down upon the wild and desolate bed of the glacier, and, upon the other, upon the green, and fertile, and inexpressibly beautiful vale of Chamouni, with the pretty little village in the centre of it. This place is called Montauvert. There is a small inn here, built expressly to accommodate travellers who wish to come up and go out upon the glacier.

Although the traveller, when he reaches Montauvert, can look directly down upon the glacier, he cannot descend to it there; for, opposite to the inn, the valley of ice is bordered by cliffs and precipices a thousand feet high. It is necessary to follow along the bank two or three miles among stupendous rocks and under towering precipices, until at length a place is reached where, by dint of much scrambling and a great deal of help from the guide, it is possible to descend.

Rollo was several times quite afraid in making this perilous excursion. In some places there seemed to be no path at all; and it was necessary for him to make his way by clinging to the roughnesses of the rocks on the steep, sloping side of the mountain, with an immense abyss yawning below. There was one such place where it would have been impossible for any one not accustomed to mountain climbing to have got along without the assistance of guides. When they reached this place, one guide went over first, and then reached out his hand to assist Rollo. The other scrambled down upon the rocks below, and planted his pike staff in a crevice of the rock in order to make a support for a foot. By this means, first Mr. George, and then Rollo, succeeded in getting safely over.

Both the travellers felt greatly relieved when they found themselves on the other side of this dangerous pass.

In coming back, however, Rollo had the misfortune to lose his pike staff here. The staff slipped out of his hand as he was clinging to the rocks; and, after sliding down five or six hundred feet to the brink of the precipice, it shot over and fell a thousand feet to the glacier below, where it entered some awful chasm, or abyss, and disappeared forever.

Mr. George and Rollo had a pretty hard time in scrambling over the moraine when they came to the place where they were to get upon the glacier. When they were fairly upon the glacier, however, they could walk along without any difficulty. It was like walking on wet snow in a warm day in spring. Little brooks were running in every direction, the bright waters sparkling in the sun. The crevasses attracted the attention of the travellers very strongly. They were immense fissures four or five feet wide, and extending downward perpendicularly to an unfathomable depth. Rollo and Mr. George amused themselves with throwing stones down. There were plenty of stones to be found on the glacier. In fact, rocks and stones of all sizes were scattered about very profusely, so much so as quite to excite Mr. George's astonishment.

"I supposed," said he, "that the top of the glacier would be smooth and beautiful ice."

"I did not think any thing about it," said Rollo.

"I imagined it to be smooth, and glassy, and pure," said Mr. George; "and, instead of that, it looks like a field of old snow covered with scattered rocks and stones."

Some of the rocks which lay upon the glacier were very large, several of them being as big as houses. It was remarkable, too, that the largest of them, instead of having settled down in some degree into the ice and snow, as it might have been expected from their great weight they would have done, were raised sometimes many feet above the general level of the glacier, being mounted on a sort of pedestal of ice. The reason of this was, that when the block was very large, so large that the beams of the sun shining upon it all day would not warm it through, then the ice beneath it would be protected by its coolness, while the surface of the glacier around would be gradually melted and wasted away by the beams of the sun or by the warm rains which might occasionally fall upon it. Thus, in process of time, the great bowlder block rises, as it were, many feet into the air, and remains there perched on the top of a little hillock of ice, like a mass of monumental marble on a pedestal.[14]

In excursions on the glaciers the guides take a rope with them, and sometimes a light ladder. The rope is for various purposes. If a traveller were to fall into any deep pit, or crevasse, or to slip down some steep slope or precipice, so that he could not get up again, the guides might let the rope down to him, and then when he had fastened it around his waist they could draw him up, when, without some such means of rescuing him, he would be wholly lost. In the same manner, when a party are walking along any very steep and slippery place, where if any one were to fall he would slide down into some dreadful abyss, it is customary for them to walk in a line with the rope in their hands, each one taking hold of it. Thus, if any one should slip a little, he could recover himself by means of the rope, when, without such a support, he would perhaps have fallen and been dashed to pieces. Sometimes, when the place is very dangerous indeed, so that several guides are required to each traveller, they tie the rope round the traveller's waist, so that he can have his hands free and yet avail himself of the support of the rope in passing along.

The ladder is used for scaling low precipices, either of rock or ice, which sometimes come in the way, and which could not be surmounted without such aid. In long and dangerous excursions, especially among the higher Alps, one of the guides always carries a ladder; and there are frequent occasions where it would not be possible to go on without using it.

A hatchet, too, is of great advantage in climbing among the immense masses of ice which are found at great elevations, since, by means of such an implement, steps may be cut in the ice which will enable the explorer to climb up an ascent too long to be reached by the ladder and too steep to be ascended without artificial footholds. In ascending Mont Blanc the traveller sometimes comes to a precipice of ice, with a chasm of immense depth, and four or five feet wide, at the bottom of it. In such a case the foot of the ladder is planted on the outside of the chasm, and the top of it is made to rest against the face of the precipice, ten or fifteen feet perhaps from the brink. One of the boldest and most skilful of the guides then ascends the ladder, hatchet in hand, and there, suspended as he is over the yawning gulf below, he begins to cut steps in the face of the precipice, shaping the gaps which he makes in such a manner that he can cling to them with his hands as well as rest upon them with his feet. He thus slowly ascends the barrier, cutting his way as he advances. He carries the end of the rope up with him, tied around his waist; and then by means of it, when he has reached the summit, he aids the rest of the party in coming up to him.

Mr. George and Rollo, however, did not venture into any such dangers as these. They could see all that they desired of the stupendous magnificence and awful desolation of these scenes without it. They spent the whole of the middle of the day on the glacier or on the slopes of the mountains around it; and then in the afternoon they came down the zigzag path again to Chamouni, very tired and very hungry.

To be tired and hungry, however, when you come home at night to a Swiss inn, is a great source of enjoyment—on account of the admirable arrangements for rest and refreshment which you are sure to find there.