We left Argentière and the constant companionship of the great glaciers of the vale of Chamonix, and descended by train through the awe-inspiring valley of the Trient (up which we used to walk many years ago, on our way to the higher regions) to Martigny, and then drove for four hours up a rough mountain road to the hotel of Pierre-à-voir--whence we descended a few days later in sledges, over grass slopes and torrent beds, 4000 feet in an hour and a quarter, to Saxon in the Rhone valley, a truly alarming experience. The "luge" or sledge is supported in front by a strong mountaineer who prevents it from "hurtling" down at breakneck speed, topsy-turvy. As the avoidance of such a catastrophe depends on the strength and the sureness of foot of this individual, travelling by "luges" is not to be recommended in summer, however agreeable it may be when the mountain side is covered with snow. In the woods near Pierre-à-voir we found another member of the Heath family, looking like a lily rather than a heath, the sweet-scented winter-green with its large single white flower (Pirola uniflora), and on the rocks on open ground masses of the pink flowers of the little rock soap-wort (Saponaria ocymoides). The curious tall, big-leaved composite with only three purple florets to a head, the Adenostyles albifrons, was here much in evidence. We were too early for the flowers of the pretty little creeping plant allied to the honeysuckle which the great Linnæus asked his friend Gronovius to name after him, the Linnæa borealis, though we had been told that it grows in this neighbourhood. Then we spent five days at Glion and on the incomparable Lake of Geneva, never wearied of gazing at the changing mysterious lights and colours (sapphire, emerald, and silver) of its vast and restful expanse.