It was a fine October morning when the Carthaginian general set out to cross the Alps by the road over the Little St. Bernard, and after a nine days' march, which was at that time a nine days' wonder, he reached the top of the mountain. The fatigue endured by Hannibal and his army cannot be described, and the toils of the journey were aggravated by the chance of their falling into the toils and snares of the enemy. Little passed their lips in the shape of food, and very little passed their lips in a contrary direction, for they were afraid to speak, lest their words should disturb the impending avalanche. The way was rugged, save where it was carpeted by the snow; but even where it was trodden hard enough to serve as a sort of track or guide, they could scarcely trust to it, for it gave them the slip every now and then in the most unsatisfactory manner. On the tenth day they began their descent: and they, perhaps, little thought at the moment that in quitting the top of the Alps they were coming down to posterity. The two first days slid away merrily enough over the ice and snow, but on the third they arrived at a point where the ground had slipped out of its place, and left to the enterprising travellers a far from eligible opening. The shifting of the earth had, in fact, put them to the most perplexing shifts, for the old road had perversely gone out of its way to baffle the travellers, and lay at the distance of 1000 feet below them. As Hannibal looked down upon the chasm, his spirits fell for a moment; but he speedily rallied, and determined, rather than allow his army to perish with cold, that he would make a way with them. Nature, however, opposed him by means of a mass of rock; and as he and Nature were at variance, he began to think how he could best split the difference. How he made his way cannot be confidently stated, though several of the learned,[49] who have gone deeply into the subject, have come out of it in opposite directions; and the authorities cannot be said to clash, for they are as wide apart as possible. Tradition, who never fails to take a trenchant way of getting through a difficulty, settles the point at once, by attributing to vinegar the success of Hannibal's scheme; but the vinegar must have been sharp indeed to have cut asunder the rocks which barred the progress of the illustrious traveller. It is difficult, also, to conceive how he could have carried with him the liquid in sufficient abundance to enable him to accomplish the object he had in view, and we are inclined to the belief that it was by continued assiduity, rather than by a mere acid, that the wondrous task was effected. A good-sized cruet full of vinegar would produce no impression on a common pebble, and when we imagine how many hogsheads after hogsheads must have been necessary to moisten the rocks through which Hannibal passed, it can only be the sheerest pig-headedness that would still obstinately adhere to the supposition we have stated.