arted away.

The aspect of the country now began to change, and the travellers soon
found themselves among mountains covered from their base nearly to their
summits with forests of gloomy pine, except where a rock of granite shot
up from the vale, and lost its snowy top in the clouds. The rivulet,
which had hitherto accompanied them, now expanded into a river; and,
flowing deeply and silently along, reflected, as in a mirror, the
blackness of the impending shades. Sometimes a cliff was seen lifting
its bold head above the woods and the vapours, that floated mid-way down
the mountains; and sometimes a face of perpendicular marble rose from
the water's edge, over which the larch threw his gigantic arms, here
scathed with lightning, and there floating in luxuriant foliage.

They continued to travel over a rough and unfrequented road, seeing now
and then at a distance the solitary shepherd, with his dog, stalking
along the valley, and hearing only the dashing of torrents, which the
woods concealed from the eye, the long sullen murmur of the breeze,
as it swept over the pines, or the notes of the eagle and the vulture,
which were seen towering round the beetling cliff.

Often, as the carriage moved slowly over uneven ground, St. Aubert
alighted, and amused himself with examining the curious plants that grew
on the banks of the road, and with which these regions abound; while
Emily, wrapt in high enthusiasm, wandered away under the shades,
listening in deep silence to the lonely murmur of the woods.

Neither village nor hamlet was seen for many leagues; the goat-herd's or
the hunter's cabin, perched among the cliffs of the rocks, were the only
human habitations that appeared.

The travellers again took their dinner in the open air, on a pleasant
spot in the valley, under the spreading shade of cedars; and then set
forward towards Beaujeu.

The road now began to descend, and, leaving the pine forests behind,
wound among rocky precipices. The evening twilight again fell over the
scene, and the travellers were ignorant how far they might yet be from
Beaujeu. St. Aubert, however, conjectured that the distance could not be
very great, and comforted himself with the prospect of travelling on a
more frequented road after reaching that town, where he designed to pass
the night. Mingled woods, and rocks, and heathy mountains were now seen
obscurely through the dusk; but soon even these imperfect images faded
in darkness. Michael