ere was no path, but we pressed directly up the steep side,
through bushes and long grass, and in a short time reached the top,
breathless from such exertion in the thin atmosphere. The pine woods
shut out the view to the north and east, which is said to be
magnificent, as the mountain is about five thousand feet high. The
wild, black peaks of the Black Forest were spread below us, and the sun
sank through golden mist towards the Alsatian hills. Afar to the south,
through cloud and storm, we could just trace the white outline of the
Swiss Alps. The wind swept through the pines around, and bent the long
yellow grass among which we sat, with a strange, mournful sound, well
suiting the gloomy and mysterious region. It soon grew cold, the golden
clouds settled down towards us, and we made haste to descend to the
village of Lenzkirch before dark.

Next morning we set out early, without waiting to see the trial of
archery which was to take place among the mountain youths. Their booths
and targets, gay with banners, stood on a green meadow beside the town.
We walked through the Black Forest the whole forenoon. It might be owing
to the many wild stories whose scenes are laid among these hills, but
with me there was a peculiar feeling of solemnity pervading the whole
region. The great pine woods are of the very darkest hue of green, and
down their hoary, moss-floored aisles, daylight seems never to have
shone. The air was pure and clear, and the sunshine bright, but it
imparted no gaiety to the scenery: except the little meadows of living
emerald which lay occasionally in the lap of a dell, the landscape wore
a solemn and serious air. In a storm, it must be sublime.

About noon, from the top of the last range of hills, we had a glorious
view. The line of the distant Alps could be faintly traced high in the
clouds, and all the heights between were plainly visible, from the Lake
of Constance to the misty Jura, which flanked the Vosges of the west.
From our lofty station we overlooked half Switzerland, and had the air
been a little clearer, we could have seen Mont Blanc and the mountains
of Savoy. I could not help envying the feelings of the Swiss, who, after
long absence from their native land, first see the Alps from this road.
If to the emotions with which I then looked on them were added the
passionate love of home and country which a long absence creates, such
excess of rapture would be almost too great to be borne.

In the