I raced down to Abries, and went on through the gorge of the Guil to Mont Dauphin.  The next day found me at La Bessee, at the junction of the Val Louise with the valley of the Durance, in full view of Mont Pelvoux.  The same night I slept at Briancon, intending to take the courier on the following day to Grenoble, but all places had been secured several days beforehand, so I set out at two P.M. on the next day for a seventy-mile walk.  The weather was again bad, and on the summit of the Col de Lautaret I was forced to seek shelter in the wretched little hospice.  It was filled with workmen who were employed on the road, and with noxious vapors which proceeded from them.  The inclemency of the weather was preferable to the inhospitality of the interior.

Outside, it was disagreeable, but grand—­inside, it was disagreeable and mean.  The walk was continued under a deluge of rain, and I felt the way down, so intense was the darkness, to the village of La Grave, where the people of the inn detained me forcibly.  It was perhaps fortunate that they did so, for during that night blocks of rock fell at several places from the cliffs on to the road with such force that they made large holes in the macadam, which looked as if there had been explosions of gunpowder.  I resumed the walk at half-past five next morning, and proceeded, under steady rain, through Bourg d’Oysans to Grenoble, arriving at the latter place soon after seven P.M., having accomplished the entire distance from Briancon in about eighteen hours of actual walking.

This was the end of the Alpine portion of my tour of 1860, on which I was introduced to the great peaks, and acquired the passion for mountain-scrambling.

FIRST TO THE TOP OF THE MATTERHORN[47]

BY EDWARD WHYMPER

We started from Zermatt on the 13th of July at half-past five, on a brilliant and perfectly cloudless morning.  We were eight in number—­Croz, old Peter and his two sons, Lord Francis Douglas, Hadow, Hudson and I. To ensure steady motion, one tourist and one native walked together.  The youngest Taugwalder fell to my share, and the lad marched well, proud to be on the expedition and happy to show his powers.  The wine-bags also fell to my lot to carry, and throughout the day, after each drink, I replenished them secretly with water, so that at the next halt they were found fuller than before!  This was considered a good omen, and little short of miraculous.

On the first day we did not intend to ascend to any great height, and we mounted, accordingly, very leisurely, picked up the things which were left in the chapel at the Schwarzsee at 8:20, and proceeded thence along the ridge connecting the Hoernli with the Matterhorn.  At half-past eleven we arrived at the base of the actual peak, then quitted the ridge and clambered round some ledges on to the eastern face.  We were now fairly upon the mountain, and were astonished to find that places which from the Riffel, or even from the Furggengletscher, looked entirely impracticable, were so easy that we could run about.