bably rush out more
impetuously from its mysterious cavern. The weir is a single timber,
below the surface, fixed obliquely across the stream on a shelving
bank of masonry, and the farther end meets the wall of rock inside the
cave. Near it we saw some glorious hart's-tongue ferns, which excited
our desires, and I took off boots and stockings, and endeavoured to
make my way along the weir; but the face of the masonry was so very
slippery, and the nails in the timber so unpleasant for bare feet, and
the stream was so unexpectedly strong, that I called to mind the
proverbial definition of the better part of valour, and came back
without having achieved the ferns. The biting coldness of the water,
and the boiling of the fall close below the weir, did not add to my
confidence in making the attempt, but I should think that in a more
favourable state of the water the cave might be very well explored by
two men going alone. The day penetrated so completely into the
farthest corners, that when I got half-way along the weir, I could
detect the oily look on the surface where it first saw the light,
which showed where the water was quietly streaming up from its unknown
sources. The people in the neighbourhood were unable to suggest any
lake or lakes of which this river might be the subterranean drainage.
It is liable to sudden and violent overflows, which seldom last more
than twenty-four hours; and from the destruction of property caused by
these outbursts, the name of _La Loue_, sc. _La Louve_, has been given
to it. The rocky valley through which the river runs, after leaving
its underground channel, is exceedingly fine, and we wandered along
the precipices on one side, enjoying the varying scenes so much that
we could scarcely bring ourselves to turn; each bend of the fretting
river showing a narrow gorge in the rock, with a black rapid, and a
foaming fall. It is said that although the mills on the Doubs are
sometimes stopped from want of water, those which derive their motive
power from this strange and impressive cavern have never known the
supply to fail.

Before we started for our ramble among the woods and precipices which
overhang the farther course of the Loue, we had sent off M. Paget to the
_auberge_, with strict orders that he should at once get out the black
horse, and bring the carriage to meet us at Ouhans, as one of us was not
in so good order for walking as usual, and the day was fast slipping
away. Of course we