This was the point on which we fixed for our descent: my companion, who was an accomplished sportsman, and accustomed to the dizzy mountains of the East, led the way; and, as he assured me that nothing but nerve was required to ensure success, I followed without hesitation. Seating ourselves, therefore, upon the summit of the mountain, we slid gently down to a narrow ledge of rock, just sufficiently wide to afford us footing; and clinging to the stones which jutted out from the natural wall on the one side, and carefully avoiding to look towards the precipice on the other, we slowly made our way to a second descent similar to the first. This hazardous exploit, thrice repeated, carried us through the most difficult portion of our undertaking, as the rock then projected sufficiently towards the base to enable us to step from stone to stone, until we arrived at the edge of the snow. As we could form no calculation of its depth, we did not venture to traverse it, which would have shortened the distance very considerably; but skirting the gulph, where it was not more than mid-way to our knees, we at length arrived in a patch of swampy land, inundated by the melting of the mountain snows, and scattered over with rocks, many of them split asunder, as though they had suffered from the wrath of Vulcan in one of his stormy moods. Our wet and weary feet next carried us up a slight ascent, to a stretch of land as brilliant and as sweet as a flower-garden. Were I to enumerate all the blossoms that I saw growing wild on this spot, the next page of my book would resemble a floricultural catalogue; and tired as I was, I could not pass them by without gathering a bouquet which would have done no disgrace to an English parterre. In half an hour more we entered the grassy nook where we had left our horses; and the recompense of our prowess from the guide when we pointed out to him the spot whence we had descended was a look of contemptuous pity, accompanied by the remark that we were “two mad Franks!”