The inhabitants here are a curious set; their occupation is chiefly in the raising of goats. I cannot conjecture why any person would willingly live in such an inhospitable environment, but they seem quite content and industrious; the men hunt the chamois and other animals, from which the women make up their food and cloathing, and also serve as guides to travellers over the mountains and passes because of their great familiarity with the terrain. Our guide related a story to us that perhaps most aptly describes the danger in these mountains: he had been driven by an avalanche the depth of fifty feet down one of these valleys, and after some difficulty was safely drawn up and alive to tell the tale. It seems that any noise or incident on the mountain is enough to set in motion one of these horrifying waves of rock, ice, and snow; you may imagine that we are all much quieter than would otherwise be thought possible.

We leave perhaps to-morrow or the next day, depending on the severity of our various complaints, the weather, &c., for Martigny, and thence to into Italy. As I reread this, I am minded to assure you that we really are well—there is no serious illness, just a little fatigue from the rigours of travel on these mountain roads. And, pray do not mention the above to Kitty or my father—Father will worry, and Kitty, whose constitution resembles that of my poor mother, is so much guided by her nerves, that I fear the very thought of our being anywhere near such imagined peril might carry her off at once.

We send our love and best wishes to all of the Gardiners, large and small,

ELIZABETH DARCY

Georgiana related the history of Martigny, which they reached the day following their departure from Chammouni, noting that five hundred years before, an avalanche had caused the Dranse to flood the valley, destroying all of the bridges between St. Maurice and Bagnes; before inundating the town of Martigny, it completely washed away the surrounding fields and villages within a few hours. The bridge, an unprepossessing wooden structure whose northern side was marked by a large wooden cross, looked more like a scene from a story-book, so small was the thin, rickety construction compared with the size and violence of the river plunging below. Mr. Harmon declared he would not venture a goat over that bridge, and indicated strongly to Mr. Darcy that he certainly hoped the route took them nowhere near such a fright. Fortunately, their road lay parallel to the river, hence there being no need for either goat or adventure. There were stone bridges both before and after the wooden one—the sight of which brought relief to everyone, not merely Mr. Harmon—and their very construction, connecting the sheer cliffs above the torrent, was a marvel.