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"And here on snows, where never human foot
Of common mortal trod, we nightly tread
And leave no traces, o'er the savage sea,
The glassy ocean of the mountain ice;
We skim its rugged breakers, which put on
The aspect of a tumbling tempest's foam
Frozen in a moment."
Byron.
May 1st.-A fine sunny morning ushered in the month of