tottered and fell before our eyes, and, starting others in their downward course, grew into a perfect avalanche, which descended with a solemn roar on to the glaciers beneath.
It is natural that the great ridges should present the wildest forms—not on account of their dimensions, but by reason of their
 PART OF THE SOUTHERN RIDGE OF THE GRAND CORNIER. |
positions. They are exposed to the fiercest heat of the sun, and are seldom in shadow as long as it is above the horizon. They are entirely unprotected, and are attacked by the strongest blasts and by the most intense cold. The most durable rocks are not proof against such assaults. These grand, apparently solid—eternal—mountains, seeming so firm, so immutable, are yet ever changing and crumbling into dust. These shattered ridges are evidence of their sufferings. Let me repeat that every principal ridge of every
