You, my dear friend, who are well acquainted from my infancy with my clambering disposition, which, within these few months, has carried me to the top of both Vesuvius and Ætna, will not be much surprised to learn, that I have attempted, with success, to mount to the summit of Mont Blanc; an aerial journey which the sight of this mountain has inspired many persons with a wish to accomplish; but in which few have engaged, and still fewer have succeeded. I am somewhat afraid that you will condemn the expedition as a wild one, and will justly consider the gratification of our curiosity, which was, unfortunately, the only object we attained, as an inadequate recompense for our toil and danger; but you have no cause to fear my embarking in similar adventures in future. Having reached a spot, undoubtedly the highest in Europe, and, with the exception of the Himalaya mountains in India, the highest in the Old World, my curiosity is completely gratified, and there is scarcely any possibility of my meeting with an enterprise of this nature, of sufficient magnitude to renew its excitement: since five of the loftiest of the Alleghanies piled on each other, would scarcely reach to the height I have attained. To give you a correct idea of the nature of our undertaking, I will begin with a concise account of this king of the Alps, and of the various attempts that have been made to reach its summit. Mont Blanc is situated amidst some of the highest mountains of Savoy, forming a part of the great chain of the Alps, above which, however, it raises far its snowy head, as with a dignified air of conscious triumph. It is this white head, which its elevation renders doubly bright, that gives its name. On the north side of the mountain, and immediately at its foot, is the valley of Chamouny, which is sixteen leagues south from Geneva, and is much frequented in the summer season by the inhabitants of that city, and strangers, who throng to this enchanted vale, to enjoy the coolness of the air, and to view its stupendous glaciers, several of which are formed by the snow and ice gliding down from Mont Blanc itself. On the south-east side is the valley of Entrèves, which separates Mont Blanc both from the great and the little St. Bernard, and through which runs a small river, whose waters join the Po, below Turin, while the Arva, which flows through Chamouny, joins the Rhone, near Geneva. These rivers finally discharge themselves into the sea, at the distance of several hundred miles from each other; the one into the Mediterranean, near Marseilles, and the other into the Adriatic, near Venice. The chain of Alps, of which Mont Blanc forms a part, runs from N. E. to S. W. and is partly surmounted in its neighbourhood, by sharp pointed rocks, whose sides are too steep for the snow to rest upon, and of which seven, rising abruptly to a great height, have the appropriate name of the "Needles of Chamouny."