the other side the mountains of Salzburg lifted
their ridgy backs from the plains of Bavaria and the Chiem lake lay
spread out in the blue distance. A line of mist far to the north
betrayed the path of the Danube, and beyond it we could barely trace the
outline of the Bohemian mountains. With a glass the spires of Munich,
one hundred and twenty miles distant, can be seen. It was a view whose
grandeur I can never forget. In that dome of the cloud we seemed to
breathe a purer air than that of earth.

After an hour or two, we began to think of descending, as the path was
yet to be found. The summit, which was a mile or more in length,
extended farther westward, and by climbing over the dwarf pines for some
time, we saw a little wooden house above us. It stood near the highest
part of the peak, and two or three men were engaged in repairing it, as
a shelter for travelers. They pointed out the path which went down on
the side toward St. Gilgen, and we began descending. The mountain on
this side is much less steep, but the descent is fatiguing enough. The
path led along the side of a glen where mountain goats were grazing, and
further down we saw cattle feeding on the little spots of verdure which
lay in the forest. My knees became so weak from this continued descent,
that they would scarcely support me; but we were three hours, partly
walking and partly running down, before we reached the bottom. Half an
hour's walk around the head of the St. Wolfgang See, brought us to the
little village of St. Gilgen.

The valley of St. Gilgen lies like a little paradise between the
mountains. Lovely green fields and woods slope gradually from the
mountain behind, to the still greener lake spread out before it, in
whose bosom the white Alps are mirrored. Its picturesque cottages
cluster around the neat church with its lofty spire, and the simple
inhabitants have countenances as bright and cheerful as the blue sky
above them. We breathed an air of poetry. The Arcadian simplicity of the
people, the pastoral beauty of the fields around and the grandeur of the
mountains which shut it out from the world, realized my ideas of a
dwelling place, where, with a few kindred spirits, the bliss of Eden
might almost be restored.

We stopped there two or three hours to relieve our hunger and fatigue.
My boots had suffered severely in our mountain adventure, and I called
at a shoemaker's cottage to get them repaired. I sat down and talked for
half an