In the distance we could see
the gleaming roofs of Geneva, the dark cathedral, and the tall hotels.
As the weeks wore on I grew stronger. Winter was coming, and the good
pastor must go home. He would not hear of leaving me, and together we
went down into Savoy, and over the 'mer de glace,' and trod on the
edge of frowning glaciers.
"We were sufficiently near the monastery of the great St. Bernard to
take it in our path; toiling along where the ice cracked in the narrow
footway, and the moon glittered on the waste of snow and glinted
across the dark windows. Pastor Ortler was at home with the monks, and
hardly had we thawed ourselves before the ample fireplace, when a
supper was prepared, and over their well-spread tables the monks told
stories of travellers lost among the granite heights, with clefts and
ledges filled with ice.
"Among the rest, friar Le-Bon gave a description of the 'Ice Maiden,'
or _'Bride of the Aar,'_ said to be seen often when the great glacier
of Aar sends out icy breezes, and the echoes ring from rock to rock,
as it were the audible voice of God.
"'Years ago,' he said, 'a young Englishman and his wife were
travelling for scientific purposes; measuring heights, and sounding
depths. They were always accompanied by guides; but now, charmed by
the untold splendor, and urged by deep emotion, they climbed higher
and higher, regardless of danger. Twice had the guide called out to
them that the very beauty of the day, the sun obscured but not
darkened, the softened air, were all favorable to a snowslide or
avalanche.
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