It has been raining cats and dogs these two days, so that we have been unable to return to our headquarters at the Montanvert which we left on Wednesday for the purpose of going up Mont Blanc. Tyndall (who has become one of the most active and daring mountaineers you ever saw--so that we have christened him "cat"; and our guide said the other day "Il va plus fort qu'un mouton. Il faut lui mettre une sonnette") had set his heart on the performance of this feat (of course with purely scientific objects), and had equally made up his mind not to pay five and twenty pounds sterling for the gratification. So we had one guide and took two porters in addition as far as the Grande Mulets. He is writing to you, and will tell you himself what happened to those who reached the top--to wit, himself, Hirst, and the guide. I found that three days in Switzerland had not given me my Swiss legs, and consequently I remained at the Grands Mulets, all alone in my glory, and for some eight hours in a great state of anxiety, for the three did not return for about that period after they were due. I was there on a pinnacle like St. Simon Stylites, and nearly as dirty as that worthy saint must have been, but without any of his other claims to angelic assistance, so that I really did not see, if they had fallen into a crevasse, how I was to help either them or myself. They came back at last, just as it was growing dusk, to my inexpressible relief, and the next day we came down here--such a set of dirty, sun-burnt, snow-blind wretches as you never saw. We heartily wished you were with us. What we shall do next I neither know nor care, as I have placed myself entirely under Commodore Tyndall's orders; but I suppose we shall be three or four days more at the Montanvert, and then make the tour of Mont Blanc. I have tied up six pounds sterling in one end of my purse, and when I have no more than that I shall come back. Altogether I don't feel in the least like the father of a family; no more would you if you were here. The habit of carrying a pack, I suppose, makes the "quiver full of arrows" feel light. 115 Esplanade, Deal, September 3, 1857. My dear Tyndall, I don't consider myself returned until next Wednesday, when the establishment of No. 14 will reopen on its accustomed scale of magnificence, but I don't mind letting you know I am in the flesh and safe back. The tour round Mont Blanc was a decided success; in fact, I had only to regret you were not with me. The grand glacier of the Allee Blanche and the view of Mont Blanc from the valley of Aosta were alone worth all the trouble. I had only one wet day, and that I spent on the Brenon Glacier; for, in spite of all good resolutions to the contrary, I cannot resist poking into the glaciers whenever I have a chance. You will be interested in my results, which we shall soon, I hope, talk on together at length.