We occupied the 9th with a scramble up Mont Dolent. This was a miniature ascent. It contained a little of everything. First we went up to the Petit Col Ferret, and had a little grind over shaly banks; then there was a little walk over grass; then a little tramp over a moraine (which, strange to say, gave a pleasant path); then a little zigzagging over the snow-covered glacier of Mont Dolent. Then there was a little bergschrund, then a little wall of snow [. . .] The summit itself was little, very small indeed; it was the loveliest little cone of snow that was ever piled up on a mountain-top; so soft, so pure; it seemed a crime to defile it; it was a miniature Jungfrau; a toy summit, you could cover it with a hand.