We set off at half-past five o’clock to cross the famous mountain of St. Bernard. It has only been used by travellers since the Mont Cenis has been shut up by the neighbourhood of the French. I went in a _chaise à porteurs_. Our carriages were dismounted and placed by piecemeal on mules. We began ascending from St. Remy. The mountains are from their base bare and without much vegetation, the road so embarrassed with snow that I thought it impracticable for the mules to bring the carriage. Just above St. Remy there is a forest of larches, which the inhabitants preserve with the most religious care, as their own safety is interested in its preservation, for it protects them from the avalanches or _chûte des neiges_, so fatal in these countries. The path is very narrow and rugged; here and there immense blocks of granite intercept the passage, difficult to be clambered over, but no precipices to terrify and make the head giddy. Little torrents running down like cascades, the snow in many places very soft, yielding readily to the pressure of the men’s feet. In about three hours from St. Remy I reached the Convent. The plain on which it stands is about two acres in extent; a black-looking lake adjoining it was frozen. Eternal snows surround this peaceful, melancholy dwelling, but the warmest charity issues from the bosom of its inmates. Distress is claim enough to rouse them to every action of spirited humanity. On a rock close to the lake stood a temple to Jupiter, dedicated, some say, by Hannibal in his passage across the mountain. Numbers of _ex-voto_ are found here, a proof that it was considered as a perilous pass by the ancients. It is the highest habitation in the old world. It is 1246 toises[71] above the level of the sea. A strong sense of active benevolence can alone induce men to abandon the charms of the habitable world for this _triste séjour_. The _clavandier_ or steward of the Convent offered us every refreshment. I accepted willingly some strong wine, and wrapped myself in eiderdown for a couple of hours. The fine dogs known for their sagacity in seeking the bewildered traveller lost under a mass of snow were not at home; they were ranging over the mountain. [Sidenote: MT. ST. BERNARD]