The Sun.
London, England, 1865-10-03 00:00:00

in saying that the present resembled in every symp-
tom the disease he had seen on those occasions.
The enemy was at their door, and they should be
prepared to meet it in the best way they could.
Resolutions were agreed to to carry out the ob-
jects of the meeting, and a subscription was com-
menced, headed by Mr. Hayes for ten guineas.
Bitterne and Sholing-common are the districts
lying immediately contiguous to the Royal Military
Hospital at Netley.

The weather here is brilliantly beautiful—by day
an unclouded sky and burning sun, with light and'
pleasant breezes from the eastward, at night heavy
dews, the moon and stars shining brightly. The
season has been exceptionally fine, and the tempe-
rature now more closely approximates to July than
to that ordinarily experienced in October. Scarcely
a drop of rain has fallen for the last five weeks. A
break-up of the weather is universally desired, since
it is thought that a heavy downfall of autumnal
rains, with such disturbance in the atmosphere as
would be caused by the periodical equinoctial gales
from the south-west, would probably have important
and beneficial effects upon our sanitary condition.

Alpine Tourists•

(Prom a Correspondent of the Times.)
CIIAMOUNIX, Sept. 27.
There is nothing in the world, I believe, calculated
to give six hours of more unnaingled delight than the
drive from Aosta to Courmayeur. We left the for-
mer place at noon on Monday in a one-horse chaise,
and toiled up the narrowing valley in full sight of
the monarch of mountains. The sun was declining
behind it as we advanced, and its rays set forth its
domes and aiguilles, its various ridges and cliffs, with
a distinctness which would have been extraordinary
on any year except this one, in which Alpine tourists
have had throughout the weather " made to order."
Those six hours' drive led us through a perfect maze
of mountains, along fields and vineyards, woods and
pastures, the luxuriancy of which does not seem to
belong to this pcor work-a-day world. The people
of Aosta have not known such a vintage, such a
harvest of chestnuts, walnuts, and fruits of every
description, as the present one for this many a year ;
and the bins that bear the date of 1865 will be the
delight of connoisseurs throughout Europe for more
than one generation, unrivalled by any previous crop,
either as to quantity or quality. The joy of the pea-
santry, as they went to their easy work, revelling in
that great lavish of nature, had something catch-
ing in it. We were in a trance of delight all the
time, wondering at the golden fruit ripening on the
chestnut-trees, more 'fruit than leaves, laughing at
the boys and girls that passed us with full baskets,
and their faces all besmeared with the blood-red
must which trickled down their heads, and now
and then lifting our eyes to gaze at the gushing
waterfalls wearing out deep chasms in the wood-clad
mountain side. To go over that ground and not to
be happy so long as the drive lasts would be impos-
sible for the most heavily care-laden mortal.
From Courmayeur to Chamounix there is a
variety of roads, the Col du Geant and the Glacier
de Miage, right across Mont Blanc, and the Val de
Ferret and the Col de Balme, round the great moun-
tain on the right, or the Col de la Seigne and Col
du Bonhomme, around it on the left. We decided
for the latter route. My seven-league boots have
been left behind long ago, on the sunny side of 50,
and I am no longer up to an ascent up to the very
shoulder of the great European giant ; we, there-
fore, chose to walk up the Allee Blanche as far as
the Col de la Seigne, go down to Chappieux for our
night quarters, and, on the morrow, travel across
the Col du Bonhomme, down to Condamines and
Sallenehes. You need not ask whether the weather
was favourable to our trip. The sky was wrapped
in dense clouds as we left Courmayeur at half-past
5, and before we had gone up to La Saxe at the
entrance of the Allee Blanche, at 6 the clouds had
cleared off as rapidly as the curtain rises at a
theatre, and the whole firmament was a mass of
deep blue, from the midst of which Mont Blanc
stood up, blushing all over with the rich rosy tints
of the rising sun. Silent and desolate that valley of
the Allee Blanche opened before us, hoary with the
dilapidation of centuries—its steep crags all bare
and rugged, its richest glaciers turned into dull and
dingy crumbling moraines. The glittering beauty
of the Alps is gone for this year. The heat and
glare of this unexampled September have drained to
their last drop the great reservoirs of Europe ; and,
were the world to witness a succession of eight or
ten such summers as this, I really believe the irri-
gation of the lowlands of Italy and France would
be impaired, and the whole aspect of Europe would
be changed.
A quelqueehose nzalheur est bon, nevertheless. If
the Alps have lost much of their beauty, and per-
haps some of their usefulness, owing to this never-
ending drought, there is no doubt but the melting
of the ice has made them more accessible, and there
is no year on record in which so many ascents of the
highest summits and so many journeys across the
loftiest passes have been achieved. The portals are
opened, and it is given to the meanest mortal to
explore the innermost recesses of the temple. I was
assured at the Riflieberg that the top of Monte Rosa
was reached on an average at least twice in the week
throughout the season. The same, I saw with my
own eyes, was the case with the Wetterhorn, the
Eiger, and most of the peaks of the Oberland. We
need say nothing of Mont Blanc, which will soon be
as commonplace as the Rhigi. Even as lam writ-
ing I hear the reports of guns announcing the tale
arrivals of two different parties who are to attempt
the summit of Mont Blanc to-morrow. On the
Col de la Seigne we fell in with a boy who was car-
rying to Chamounix the portmanteau of a lady, who
had that very morning ventured across the Col du
Geant. The Alps have become a mere plaything,
and adventurous climbers must seek for a worthier

field among the mountains of the moon.
We came to the summit of the Col de la Seigne at
about 12 o'clock at noon. The scenery is of a grand
but savage character, and the sun glare laid it as

bare before us as if the earth had no more atmo

sphere than the moon is said to have. A wild,

stern, barren scenery, unredeemed by any beauty ;
with not the least sight of green, and hardly a

speck of snow here and there; the heat per-
fectly killing, even on the summit of the Col. Two

hours more would have taken us down to Chap-
pieux, where the prospect of a long dreary afternoon
stared us in the face. So upon reaching Mottet,
half way down, we resolved to strike across the Col
des Tours, leaving the Col du Bonhomme on our
left, thus getting over the two passes at one pull,
and achieving two days' work in one. It was done ;
we drank some some sour wine and ate a crust of
bread at Mottet, then toiled up the high wall of this
Col des Tours, and hence clambered down the stony
descent as far as Nant-Boran and Condamines. It
was severe work, but we reached Condamines before
6, having travelled the best of 13 hours, and left
behind us two of the great ribs of Mont Blanc.
This morning we left Condamines at 7 in a char-
a-banc drawn by one mule, came thumping and
jolting down one of the most stony roads in the
world, reached St. Gervais at 10, and thence, leav-
ing Sallenches on our left, we took a short new cut

to Servoz, and came up to Chamounix at 2 p.m. I
was already familiar with this place, but had come

to it in former times from the Col de Balme, and
was not aware of the overpowering beauty of its

approach from the heights of Servoz. Here, as at

Courmayeur, Zermatt,Grindelwald, and other places
high up in the mountains, the beauty is less in the

spot itself than in the road to it. Here at Chamounix

you are neither on the summit nor at the base of the

mountain. This may be a good pied a terre for the
tourist, convenient to start from on a variety of
excursions ; and even in that capacity I think Cha.

mounix is in a great measure surpassed by Cour-
mayeur. The Crammont, at the latter place, en-
joys a grander panorama than the Flegere at the
former. Mont Blanc, in my estimation, is not the
noblest of mountains. Monte Rosa is a more stu-
pendous mass; the Jungfrau has more majesty
and elegance of outline, the Matterhorn is more
unique, more fantastic, more unearthly in his huge
pyramidal form ; but Mont Blanc is not only a
mountain, it is a world of mountains.

THE TEA TRADE, Oct. 2.—The deliveries in
London estimated for the week were 1,174,8191 b., which is
a decrease of 17,6041 b. compared with the previous state-
ment.