I may be wrong in supposing that the falls in the night are greater than those in the daytime, since sound is much more startling during darkness than when the cause of its production is seen. Even a sigh may be terrible in the stillness of the night. In the daytime one’s attention is probably divided between the sound and the motion of rocks which fall; or it may be concentrated on other matters. But it is certain that the greatest of the falls which happened during the night took place after midnight, and this I connect with the fact that the maximum of cold during any twenty-four hours very commonly occurs between midnight and dawn. We turned out at 3.30 A.M. on the 11th, and were dismayed to find that it still continued to snow. At 9 A.M. it ceased to fall, and the sun showed itself feebly, so we packed up our baggage, and set out to try to get upon “the shoulder.” We struggled upwards until eleven o’clock, and then it commenced to snow again. We held a council; the opinions expressed at it were unanimous against advancing, and I decided to retreat. For we had risen less than 300 feet in the past two hours, and had not even arrived at the rope which Tyndall’s party left behind, attached to the rocks, in 1862. At the same rate of progression it would have taken us from four to five hours to get upon “the shoulder.” Not one of us cared to attempt to do so under the existing circumstances; for besides having to move our own weight, which was sufficiently troublesome at this part of the ridge, we had to transport much heavy baggage, tent, blankets, and provisions, ladder, and 450 feet of rope, besides many other smaller matters. These, however, were not the most serious considerations. Supposing that we got upon “the shoulder,” we might find ourselves detained there several days, unable either to go up or down.(87) I could not risk any such detention, being under obligations to appear in London at the end of the week. [Illustration: THE CRAGS OF THE MATTERHORN, DURING THE STORM, MIDNIGHT, AUG. 10, 1863.] We returned to Breil in the course of the afternoon. It was quite fine there, and the tenants of the inn received our statements with evident scepticism. They were astonished to learn that we had been exposed to a snow-storm of twenty-six hours’ duration. “Why,” said Favre, the innkeeper, “_we_ have had no snow; it has been fine all the time you have been absent, and there has been only that small cloud upon the mountain.” Ah! that small cloud! None except those who have had experience of it can tell what a formidable obstacle it is. [Illustration: MONSIEUR FAVRE.]