Glaciers, which constitute one of the most wonderful features of Alpine scenery, are formed by the successive thawing and freezing of the loose snow in spring and summer. Thawing by day, and freezing by night, the masses at length become complete crystallizations; and as the lower extremities melt, they move gradually down the mountains, carrying with them portions of rock. "The common form of a glacier," says Professor Forbes, "is a river of ice filling a valley, and pouring down its mass into other valleys yet lower. It is not a frozen ocean, but a frozen torrent."

"The glacier's cold and restless mass

Moves onward day by day."

When these descending ice-streams enter a gorge in the mountains, they spread themselves out in it, as it were, partially filling it up, and may then be called seas of ice; such is the Mer de Glace of Chamouni.

Avalanches are immense accumulations of snow, which are either overset by their own weight, or loosened by the effects of the heat of the sun; and which gather as they roll downwards until they acquire the size of miniature mountains. The natives of the Alps give different names to different kinds of avalanches. The Staub-lawinen, or Dust avalanche, is composed of loose, fresh-fallen snow, gathering in immense drifts, until it reaches the edge of some precipice, where it falls over, and, thundering down the mountain with intense velocity, increasing in size and impetus as it rolls, it sweeps down whole forests in its fearful descent. This kind of avalanche, however, is not so dangerous as that called Grund-lawinen; the former indeed-the Staub-lawinen— often buries people and cattle, but it does not crush them, so that they can sometimes extricate themselves, or can be dug out, without having always sustained serious injury; the latter falls principally in April and May, when the snow is exposed to the powerful influence of the sun, and to the action of rain; these thaw the surface, and the water trickling through crevices in the ice, widening and deepening these, has the effect-if the term may be used-of a liquid saw, until immense blocks, each a mountain in itself, become detached, and sliding away, or tumbling over, destroy living beings, villages, trees, everything, in their downward progress.

The impending avalanche is occasionally so nicely poised on the edge of some lofty cliff, that the report of a gun, the tinkling of a bell, the very sound of the human voice, the slightest agitation in the air, will destroy its equilibrium, and dislodge it from its insecure position. There is a spirited description of such an occurrence in the work of an

American traveller ;* he 66 says, we stopped to rest and to hear the roar of avalanches that fell every few minutes from the opposite mountains. Sometimes you would see the avalanches as they rushed down the mountain, and sometimes you caught only their roar, as they fell from the opposite side of some cliff, into a gulf untrodden by foot of man or beast. The keeper of the chalet had a small mortar, which he fired off at our request. Ten distinct echoes came back. From deep and awful silence, these innumerable peaks seemed aroused into sudden and almost angry life. Report after report, like the rapid discharge of a whole bank of artillery, thundered through the clear air. At length the echoes one by one sank slowly away, and I thought all was over. Fainter and fainter they grew, till nothing but a low rumbling sound was heard in the distance; when suddenly, without warning or preparation, there was a report like the blast of the last trumpet. It came from the distant Wetter-horn, and rolled and rattled and stormed through the mountains, till it seemed as if every peak was loosened from its base, and all were falling and crushing together. It was absolutely terrific. The fearful echo had scarcely died away, before the avalanches which the sudden jar had loosened began to fall. The hunder of one blended with the thunder of another, till one continuous roar passed along the mountains. The tumult ceased as suddenly as it had commenced, and the deep and awful silence that followed was painful."

This description relates to the pass of the Wengern Alps; the spot where Lord Byron composed a portion of his Manfred, and of which he speaks in these well-known lines :—

Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down

In mountainous o'erwhelming, Come and crush me!

I hear ye momently-above-beneath

Crush with a frequent conflict-but ye pass,

And only fall on things that still would live."

Beneath these "toppling crags of ice," along these giddy paths skirting the verge of the most fearful precipices, there are three classes of men whose occupations lead them often to wander. The smuggler, the chamois-hunter, and the Alpine missionary, all equally risk their lives in the pursuit of their different callings. Equally intrepid, selfsacrificing, and inured to dangers, how different the motives which induce each to brave these scenes of "stupendous desolation!"

Headley's Alps and the Rhine.

Gain

is the object of the two former; unlawful gain of the first; but it is to the service of his God that the last thus devotes all the energies of his body and his mind. Of earthly gain he can have no hope. No rich benefice may reward his clerical exertions, and hold forth the promise of that ease in his old age, which the toils of his earlier years would render doubly sweet. No; his reward must truly be "that

peace which the world cannot give."

Fourteen years is the term generally required to complete the education of a Swiss pastor; and if then admitted into orders, he may probably remain many more years as a mere subordinate, on an income perhaps not exceeding £25 per annum. Even should the minister to whom he is an assistant die, or remove to some other locality, he does not step into the vacant situation, it being usually given to some older pastor. Thus the prime of life is generally past before the poor clergyman can hope to attain to a more remunerative living. The stipends of livings range from about £60 to £120 per annum; and some of these scantily-paid clergy have to pass their days amidst the wildest and most secluded parts of the mountains, shut out, or shut in, by icy barriers during the long and dreary winter-months, from all communication with any but the few scattered members of their humble flock; residing in places where even the passing from one cluster of rude chalets to another, may frequently be attended with danger; where while crossing, in pursuance of their sacred duty, some scarcely defined path, one false step may plunge them, on one side into some yawning abyss, whilst on the other, some snowy mass, detaching itself from the precipitous rocks which rise like frowning giants to the clouds, may bury them in its fearful descent. These Alpine pastors, whose labours are indeed those of love, are not persons of mere common acquirements; they are generally highly educated men, whose amusements consist in the study of botany, mineralogy, and various other sciences.

We would not wish, however, to impress on the minds of our untravelled readers the idea that the Alpine, like the Arctic regions, possess no scenery but what is ice-bound, savage, and inhospitable. On the contrary, there are lovely valleys among the Alps even at a high elevation; fairy spots, rich in verdant pastures; flower-enamelled meadows, and picturesque Swiss cottages. Not the oasis in the parched and scorching deserts of Africa can be more refreshing to the eye of the traveller, than is the quiet little green pasturage or Alpine valley, hidden among, and contrasted with, the stern crags or icy glaciers around; both may be compared to the "green pastures," ¡and

"still waters," which may be found amidst the trials and tribulations in the troubled life of man, if he have sought to make the Lord his shepherd, and if he be guided by the voice of that good Shepherd, who "will speak peace unto his people," and whose "salvation is nigh them that fear him."

'Switzerland, during its five centuries of prosperity, counts rather wise generations than great men. There is no room for exceptions when the whole is so happy. It may be said, that the ancestors of this nation still reign among them; for still do the Swiss respect and imitate them. Simplicity of manners, attachment to ancient customs, good sense, and uniformity in the mode of living, bring the past near, and render the future present. A history always the same, seems only a single moment, the duration of which is many ages."

The above description of the Swiss, by that able writer, Madame de Staël, was given at an early period of the present century. Since then, the spirit of the age, that is, the spirit of innovation, has found its way even to their mountain - fastnesses; and innovation is not always improvement. It is not probable, that were the Swiss again to be called upon to go forth against the invaders of their country and their freedom, they would think of a unanimous "prostration in prayer" before commencing the battle, as they did when Arnold of Winkelried, a knight of Underwalden, led them to victory over a far superior Austrian force.

" or

It is the fashion of the present day to imagine ourselves much more enlightened than our forefathers were. It may be a question, however, whether we do surpass them in that knowledge which of all others is the most essential; "the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ; whether rather, chat exhortation which was addressed to the people of Israel in the time of Jeremiah, " See, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein," may not also be required by us, the Christians of the nineteenth century. We are too apt to be " vainly puffed up," and "wise in our own conceits." It would be better for us if the virtue of humility were more cultivated among us; if we were to learn to think and to feel, as well as to utter the words, "We also bless thy holy name for all thy servants departed this life in thy faith and fear; beseeching thee to give us grace so to follow their good example, that with them we may be partakers of thy heavenly kingdom." It would be well for us if we were to say in our inmost hearts,

"Behold! what witnesses unseen
Encompass us around;

Men, once like us, with suff'ring tried,
But now with glory crown'd.

Let us, with zeal like theirs inspired,

Begin the Christian race,

And freed from each encumb'ring weight,
Their holy footsteps trace."

And, let us add,

"Behold a witness nobler still,

Who trod affliction's path,

Jesus, at once the Finisher

And Author of our faith "

SONNET.

THE BANKS OF THE WYE.

BY THE REV. J. D. HULL, B.A., AUTHOR OF THE

POEMS," ETC., ETC.

"TWAS on the woody and romantic WYE,
So justly by admiring poets sung,

"LAKE AND OTHER

A valley wound the wooded hills among,
Charming, which way it look'd, the wandering eye.
Soft as the motion of an angel, by

The river glided; its green banks o'erhung
With trees that over it their shadows flung,
Lending the scene a deeper witchery.

Hardly a moving thing you might behold,

Save the chance-barge, slow-sailing down the tide,
Or fisher in his coracle afloat.

There, as the stream along in silence roll'd,

How wish'd I, that the stream of life might glide
As peacefully, as in that vale remote.

Cheltenham.