234 A FRIGUTFUL SCENE.

Pas. But he was silent as the grave—not a word
escaped his lips; and on, and on, and on did we
tread, slowly, cautiously, and hesitatingly, for about
ten minutes, when I became impatient to learn the
extent of our progress, and inquired whether we
had nearly reached the other end. ‘Pas encore.’
‘Are we half way?’ ‘A peu prés, were the
replies. Gathering up my whole stock of presence
of mind, I requested that we might pause a while;
and then, as I deliberately turned my head, the
whole of this extraordinary and frightful scenery
revealed itself at a glance. Conceive an amphi-
theatre of rock, forming throughout a bare, barren,
perpendicular precipice, of I knew not how many
hundred feet in height, the two extremities dimin-
ishing in altitude as they approached the Drance,
which formed the cord of this arc; that on our left
constituting the barrier which had impeded our pro-
gress, and which we had just ascended. From the
point where we had stepped upon the ledge, quitting
the forest and underwood, this circular face of pre-
cipice commenced, continuing without intermission
till it united itself with its corresponding headland
on the right—the only communication between
the two being along a ledge in the face of the pre-
clpice, varying in width from about a foot to a few
inches; the surface of the said ledge, moreover,
assuming the form of an inclined plane, owing to