VIEW FROM THE BUET. Before we take our leave of Mont Blanc and of the Alps, the peculiarly brilliant view from the summit of the Buet ought to be noticed. Never, says M. Bourrit, did prospect appear so vast. Toward the west, the Rhone is seen, winding for the space of thirty-six leagues through the rich plains of the Valais; the parts of the river which the mountains cover with their shade seeming like threads of silver, and those which the sun illumines like threads of gold. Beyond the river and its rich plains, the view extends to the highest mountains of Switzerland, St. Gothard, and the Grisons, all covered with ice; while on the east, the hights sink suddenly, from some of the loftiest elevations on the globe, to level plains washed by the sea. Geneva seems like a spot at one end of the lake, and the lake itself like a sinuous band, dividing the fields which it waters. Beyond it are discovered the vast plains of Franche Comte and Burgundy, the mountains of which diminish by almost imperceptible gradations. Here the eye has neither power nor extent of sight to embrace the whole of the objects presented to its view. Amid the fearful aspect of the precipices which descend on every side, what a contrast between the country decorated with all that is smiling and gay, and the sublime spectacle of the Alps, their gloomy and aspiring summits, and, above all, the prodigious hight of Mont Blanc, that enormous colossus of snow and ice, which parts the clouds, and pierces to the very heavens! Below this mountain, which bids defiance to time, and whose eternal ice disregards the dissolving power of the sun, a band of pyramidical rocks appear, the intervals between them being so many valleys of ice, the immensity of which appalls the imagination. Their deep chasms may be distinguished, and the noise of the frequent avalanches (falls of immense masses of snow) presents to the mind the gloomy ideas of horror, devastation and ruin. Farther on, other summits of ice prolong this majestic picture. Among these are the high mountains of the St. Bernard, and those which border on the Boromean islands. Perhaps there is not in the old world a theater more instructive, or more adapted for reflection, than the summit of this mountain. Where, beside, can be seen such variety and contrast of forms; such results of the efforts of time; such effects of all the climates, and of all the seasons? At one glance may be embraced frosts equally intense with those of Lapland, and the rich and delightful frontiers of Italy; eternal ice, and waving harvests; all the chilling horrors of winter, and the luxuriant vegetation of summer; eighty leagues of fertile plains, covered with towns, with vineyards, with fields and herds, and adjoining to these, a depth of twenty thousand feet of everlasting ice. MONTSERRAT.