ntains of the
Black Forest enclose it on each side like walls, covered to the summit
with luxuriant woods, and in some places with those forests of gloomy
pine which give this region its name. After traversing its whole length,
just before plunging into the mountain-depths, the traveler rarely meets
with a finer picture than that which, on looking back, he sees framed
between the hills at the other end. Freiburg looks around the foot of
one of the heights, with the spire of her cathedral peeping above the
top, while the French Vosges grew dim in the far perspective.

The road now enters a wild, narrow valley, which grows smaller as we
proceed. From Himmelreich, a large rude inn by the side of the green
meadows, we enter the Hollenthal--that is, from the "Kingdom of Heaven"
to the "Valley of Hell!" The latter place better deserves its
appellation than the former. The road winds between precipices of black
rock, above which the thick foliage shuts out the brightness of day and
gives a sombre hue to the scene. A torrent foams down the chasm, and in
one place two mighty pillars interpose to prevent all passage. The
stream, however, has worn its way through, and the road is hewn in the
rock by its side. This cleft is the only entrance to a valley three or
four miles long, which lies in the very heart of the mountains. It is
inhabited by a few woodmen and their families, and but for the road
which passes through, would be as perfect a solitude as the Happy Valley
of Rasselas. At the farther end, a winding road called "The Ascent,"
leads up the steep mountain to an elevated region of country, thinly
settled and covered with herds of cattle. The cherries which, in the
Rhine-plain below, had long gone, were just ripe here. The people spoke
a most barbarous dialect; they were social and friendly, for everybody
greeted us, and sometimes, as we sat on a bank by the roadside, those
who passed by would say "Rest thee!" or "Thrice rest!"

Passing by the Titi Lake, a small body of water which was spread out
among the hills like a sheet of ink, so deep was its Stygian hue, we
commenced ascending a mountain. The highest peak of the Schwarzwald, the
Feldberg, rose not far off, and on arriving at the top of this mountain,
we saw that a half hour's walk would bring us to its summit. This was
too great a temptation for my love of climbing heights; so with a look
at the descending sun to calculate how much time we could spare, we set
out. Th