The Cliff Climbers | Page 3

in which its various incidents were enacted. Not so
unlike an amphitheatre would that scene appear--only differing from
one, in the small number of the dramatis persona, and the entire
absence of spectators.
From the top of Chumulari, looking down among the foot hills of this
majestic mountain, you might behold a valley of a singular
character--so singular as at once to fix your attention. You would note
that it is of a regular oval shape; and that instead of being bounded by
sloping declivities, it is girt by an almost vertical cliff that appears to be

continuous all around it. This cliff of dark granitic rock you might
guess with your eye to rise several hundred feet sheer from the bottom
of the valley. If it were in the season of summer, you might further
observe, that receding from its brow a dark-coloured declivity of the
mountain rises still higher, terminating all around in peaks and
ridges--which, being above the snow-line are continually covered with
the pale white mantle that has fallen upon them from the heavens.
These details would be taken in at the first glance; and then your eye
would wander into the valley below, and rest there--fixed by the
singularity of the scene, and charmed by its soft loveliness--so strongly
contrasting with the rude surroundings on which you had been hitherto
gazing.
The form of the valley would suggest the existence of the grand
elliptical crater of some extinct volcano. But instead of the black
sulphuric scoria, that you might expect to see strewed over its base,
you behold a verdant landscape of smiling loveliness, park-like plains
interposed with groves and copses, here and there a mound of
rock-work, as if piled artificially and for ornament. Around the cliffs
appears a belt of forest of darker green; and occupying the centre a
limpid lake, on whose silver surface at a certain hour of the day you
might see reflected part of the snow-crowned summit on which you are
standing--the cone of Chumulari itself.
With a good glass you might distinguish quadrupeds of several species
straying over the verdant pastures; birds of many kinds upon the wing,
and others disporting themselves upon the surface of the lake.
You would be tempted to look for a grand mansion. You would send
your glance in every direction, expecting to see chimneys and turrets
overtopping the trees; but in this you would be disappointed.
On one side of the valley, near to the base of its bounding cliff, you
might see a white vapour ascending from the surface of the earth. It
would be an error to believe it smoke. It is not that--only the rime rising
over a hot-spring bubbling out from the rocks and forming the little
rivulet, that, like a silver string, connects it with the lake.

Charmed with the view of this lovely valley, you would desire to visit it.
You would descend the long slope of Chumulari, and straggling
through the labyrinth of rugged foot hills that surround it, you would
reach the brow of the bounding precipice; but there you must come to a
halt. No path leads downward; and if you are still determined to set foot
on the shores of that smiling lake, you will have to make the descent of
the cliffs by means of a rope or rope-ladder several hundred feet in
length.
With comrades to help you, you may accomplish this; but once in the
valley, you can only get out of it by remounting your rope-ladder: for
you will find no other means of exit.
At one end of the valley you may perceive a gap in the cliffs; and fancy
that through this you may make your way out to the side of the
mountain. The gap may be easily reached, by going up a gentle
acclivity; but having passed through it, you will discover that it only
guides you into a gorge, like the valley itself, bounded on both sides by
precipitous cliff's. This gorge is half filled by a glacier; on the surface
of which you may pass for a certain distance downward. At the end of
that descent you will find the glacier cut by a deep crevasse, a hundred
feet in depth and a hundred in width. Without bridging the crevasse,
you can go no further; and if you did succeed in bridging it, further
down you would find others deeper and wider, over which it would be
impossible for you to pass.
Return then, and examine the singular valley into which you have made
your way. You will find there trees of many kinds, quadrupeds of many
kinds, birds of many kinds, and insects of many kinds--you will find
every form of animal life, except that of the human being. If you find
not