The sun was sloping to the west, and we thought it wise to return; so down the glacier we went, mingling our footsteps with the tracks of chamois, while the frightened marmots piped incessantly from the rocks. We reached the land once more, and halted for a time to look upon the scene within view. The marvellous blueness of the sky in the earlier part of the day indicated that the air was charged, almost to saturation, with transparent aqueous vapour. As the sun sank the shadow of the Finsteraarhorn was cast through the adjacent atmosphere, which, thus deprived of the direct rays, curdled up into visible fog. The condensed vapour moved slowly along the flanks of the mountain, and poured itself cataract-like into the valley of the Rhone. Here it met the sun again, which reduced it once more to the invisible state. Thus, though there was an incessant supply from the generator behind, the fog made no progress; as in the case of the moving glacier, the end of the cloud-river remained stationary where consumption was equal to supply. Proceeding along the mountain to the Furca, we found the valley at the further side of the pass also filled with fog, which rose, like a wall, high above the region of actual shadow. Once on turning a corner an exclamation of surprise burst simultaneously from my companion and myself. Before each of us and against the wall of fog, stood a spectral image of a man, of colossal dimensions; dark as a whole, but bounded by a coloured outline. We stretched forth our arms; the spectres did the same. We raised our alpenstocks; the spectres also flourished their batons. All our actions were imitated by these fringed and gigantic shades. We had, in fact, _the Spirit of the Brocken_ before us in perfection. At the time here referred to I had had but little experience of alpine phenomena. I had been through the Oberland in 1850, but was then too ignorant to learn much from my excursion. Hence the novelty of this day's experience may have rendered it impressive: still even now I think there was an intrinsic grandeur in its phenomena which entitles the day to rank with the most remarkable that I have spent among the Alps. At the Furca, to my great regret, the joint ramblings of my friend and myself ended; I parted from him on the mountain side, and watched him descending, till the gray of evening finally hid him from my view. FOOTNOTES: [A] The Weisshorn was first scaled, by Tyndall, in 1861.--L. C. T. [Sidenote: THE TYROL. 1856.] THE TYROL. (3.)