The nights are now cold, and before morning we are chilled, although we wrap ourselves in our blankets without being undressed. It could hardly be otherwise in the neighbourhood of so many glaciers. The hot sun penetrates into the valley, but after sunset the cold air of the upper strata by degrees usurps its place. Breakfast and exercise make us once more ourselves, and we again start, winding along the rough and rocky edge of a rapidly descending stream on a narrow trail traced out by the surveying parties a few days previously. We continue through the valley walled in by mountains, the height of which must be counted by thousands of feet. After a progress of fourteen miles we come upon two large masses of frozen snow, one on each side of the river and fifty feet back from it. We learn that three years ago, when first seen, they were much larger and higher, forming a great natural bridge across the stream. The water, which is here of considerable volume and impetuosity, passed through the opening which it had forced in the centre. It is the remains of an avalanche from one of the glaciers, at what date no one can tell, and as I have said, it was first seen three years ago. The bridge has disappeared and only the abutments of hard frozen snow or ice are left, and they are gradually melting away. It is to be inferred that it was of no late occurrence, and that the mass must have been precipitated from a neighbouring glacier, evidently not an uncommon occurrence in this district. Mr. Moberly mentions in his journal, 26th September, 1865, having seen further up the Ille-celle-waet a snow bridge on which his party crossed the stream which flowed two hundred and fifty feet beneath without being seen. We trudge slowly along the newly cut trail high up among the rocks, to descend again to the flats with its alders and devil’s clubs until at last, we reach a surveyors’ camp, twenty-four miles from the summit. Such is the measured distance but we would have estimated it as much longer by the tax upon our strength.