INTRODUCTORY.

31

Chamouni opens far away to the left, the glitteringrocky advanced post of the Glacier des Bossons camesparkling from the curve, I scarcely dared to look atit. Conscious that it was before me, some strangeimpulse turned my eyes towards any other objects—unimportant rocks and trees, or cattle on the highpasturage—as though I feared to look at it. I nevercould understand this coquetting with excitementuntil years afterwards, when a young author toldme a variety of the same feeling had seized himas he first saw a notice of his first book in a news-paper. He read the paragraphs above and below andabout it; but only glanced at the important one,as though striving constantly to renew the vividpleasure he had felt upon first seeing it. The wholeof that sojourn at Chamouni passed like a dream.With the first light I used to watch the summit ofMont Blanc from my room; and at sunset I alwayswent into the fields behind the church to see the rosylight creep up it, higher and higher, until it stoodonce more—cold, clear, mocking the darkening peaksbelow it—against the sky. From long study of plans,and models, and narratives, I could trace every stepof the route : and I do believe, if any stalwart com-panion had proposed it, with the recollection of whatJaques Balmat and Dr. Paccard had done alone, Ishould have been mad enough to have started on