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has of Wallerms, spec. 137.—a stone which the people of the country make great
use of for the construction of stoves, both for themselves and for exportation. It is
of a dirk green tint, hut turns black by the effect of fire ; and is so far found preferable
to any other for that use, that it does not become red from heat, let that heat be ever
so excessive; neither is it liable to fly or break as earthen, or even iron stoves, besides
being accounted more wholesome for that purpose.
At the basis of a mountain near Lides. called La Tour, is a rich mine of copperas
pyrites, intermixed with a kind of azure blue and ard-it-mmiUgtie, or Crete viridis,
two colours much used in painting alfrcxo. and of which the inhabitants send great
quantities to Piedmont. Three miles tirom hence standi St. Pierre, or St. Petersbourg,
the last Vallaisan viUage of any extent previous to entermg die king of Sarduiia's states.
This village is defended, on die Piedmontese side, by a wall i crennu, or kind of battlement,
as well as by a ditch, formed, as it were, by the torrent Valsorey, and is so
extremely elevated, as to be five thousand four hundred and thirty-four feet above the
level of the sea, and three thousand eight hundred and forty-eight higher than Martignie
i so that the winters not only are intensely cold, hut may be said to last nine
months out of the twelve. Its inhabitants therefore, as well as those of Orsiere, are
obliged, on that account, to dry their vegetables on a species of iladoirs, or wooden
frames, placed horizontally, and supported by pieces, of timber, cut for the purpose, of
ten or twelve feet high. They have also a singular mode of cultivating or propagating
their beans (an article of great consumption), which is, tliat as soon as the plant is
about a foot high, it is laid in the ground like the stem of a vine, when in a short
time sprout out from the eyes or joints of its stem a number of branches, which soon
acquire sulEcient strength to resist the severity of the atmosphere, that reigns nearly the
whole year throughout the Upper Alps. They pretend that this process both accelerates
their maturity, and adds to their strength so considerably, that they are thus
always certain of procuring a plentiful harvest of their favourite vegetable.
From St. Petersbourg I crossed the Drance of Valsorey, so named to distinguish it
from the Drance of Mont St. Bernard, the former taking its source at the foot of an
extensive glacier of the same name, though nevertheless a branch of the great Mir de
Olact, or Frozen Sea, called Tzermolam or i ioai raa by the Vallaisans, of which I shall
speak more particularly in its proper place. This torrent I therefore crossed, and continued
ascending foi nine long miles, previous to reaching the top of this tremendous
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pass, and by a road so terrific, steep, and Irregular, that no conveyance except mules
can be used by travelers ; and, what is worse, it never can be ameliorated, the snow
being in many parts, at ail times of the year, permanent. As I by degrees arrived
nearer the top of this Colossean mountain, how wild and arid did every object appear!
•with the exception of a small forest of larch and fir, which I passed through at about
two miles from St. Pierre, as if to bid adieu to this last remnant of vegetation; for,
besides these, nothing but a few shrubs, birch, and stunted pines, thinly scattered on
the dreary wild, presented themselves around 5 and they but too forcibly announced, by
their languor and wretched appearance, that the region or temperature in which they
grew was no longer fit for them. To these succeeded the rhododendrum hirsutum, and
then a short close grass, conspicuous only in that part of the valley where the snow was
melted, while moss and lichens were here and there seen in small quantities on the
blocks of rock which surround the road. At last, as I approached the summit, I came
to a spot apparently abandoned by Nature. Tlie kind of chaos in which I was, the
profound silence that reigned around, interrupted only by the melancholy rumbling of
the Drance, which rolls its impetuous waters among tremendous precipices, served to
convey sensations of gloom and terror not to be described,—yet at the same time
infused such sentiments of wonder and surprise, at the magnitude of the objects, and
the singularity of the dreary and terrifie scene which spreads itself around for so great a
distance, that I became riveted to a spot, which cannot be viewed without emotion or
astonishment. Having however reached the top of the Prou (a kind of dale or pasturage,
nine hundred and seventy-three toises, or six thousand two hundred and twentyone
English feet three-quarters above the level of the sea, very nearly filled with fragments
of the lateral mountains, where the inhabitants of Orsières and Lides send their
sheep to graze during the months of Jul y and August), I perceived, on my left, the spiry
summit of Mont Velan, where the snow is perpetual, and of which the height, according
to Père Murrith (canon of St. Bernard, the hospice or convent of fi-iars on the top of
the mount, a person well known by his literary knowledge, as well as by his extreme
tenderness and humanity towards the distressed traveler of the Alps), is one thousand
seven hundred and thirty toises, or eleven thousand six hundred and two feet and
a quarter above the level of the sea. That mountain, which is one of the highest that
forms, and indeed overhangs, the summit of St. Bernard, serves as a support to the
before-mentioned glacier, which communicates to that of Valsorey, and, to credit the
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