not been disturbed since death; some had more the appearance of the
shrivelled-up remains which we find in the Morgue on the road to
the Grand St. Bernard, and lay about us in all the varied positions
induced by their miserable fate. Here, it seemed that a group had,
while sufficient strength yet remained, huddled themselves together,
as if to keep up the vital warmth of which death so slowly and yet
so surely was depriving them; a little farther on was a figure in a
sitting posture, with two infants still clasped in its bony arms;
and then again the eye would fall upon some solitary figure with
outstretched limbs, as if courting that death which on the instant
responded to the call. Involuntarily my thoughts recurred to Dante's
beautiful description of the Comte Ugolino's children and their
piteous end in the Torre della Fame--but here, a sickening sense of
the dreadful reality of the horrors, which it was evident from these
mute memorials of man's cruelty to his fellow had been endured, quite
oppressed me, and I wished I had never visited the spot. I felt myself
so much harrowed by this sad scene, that I endeavoured to distract
my attention; but what was my astonishment when my eye fell upon the
print of a human naked foot, and beside it the distinct mark of the
pointed heel of the Affgh[=a]n boot!--I hope my reader will give me
credit for truth--I can assure him that it was some time before I
could believe my own eyes, though I considered that the result of our
explorations would explain in part the sight, which appeared to me
so extraordinary, and which tallied so strangely with the footprints
which had frightened Shah Pursund Khan twelve years ago. I was still
absorbed in reflections of no very gay colour, when one of the
attendants warned me that if I staid all day amongst the "dead
people," there would not be sufficient oil to feed the torches, and we
should be unable to visit the Ice Caves. I was immediately roused,
and proceeded onwards with the party through several low arches and