But in your state as to locality, time, and belief, I know of
only one way to relieve you."
"What is it?" cried Hirsch, already kindling with hope.
We had now reached the Rothalp, and were standing in a lonely place
called the Holderloch. It is a deep dark gorge, encircled with gloomy
firs; a level rock crowns the abyss, whence fall the dark waters of the
Marg with roaring deep and loud.
Our path had brought us there. I sat down upon the mossy turf to breathe
the moist air which rises from the gulf, and at that very moment I espied
below me a magnificent goat, reaching up to crop the wild cresses that
grow on the edge of the cliff.
Let it be remembered that the rocks of the Holderloch rise in the form of
successive terraces, each terrace ten feet high perhaps, but not more
than a foot wide, and upon these little narrow ledges grow a thousand
sweet-smelling plants--thyme and honeysuckle, ivy and convolvulus, and
the wild vine, perpetually bedewed with the spray from the falling
torrent, and falling over in the loveliest clusters of bloom and foliage.
Now my goat--an animal with a broad brow, garnished with heavy knotted
curling horns, with eyes gleaming like a pair of gold buttons, a reddish
beard, exhibiting a proud, defiant bearing under those festoons of
verdure, and a countenance as bold as that of a prowling satyr--my goat
was making a progress upwards towards the very highest of these narrow
ledges, and was enjoying a sweet repast of dainty herbs.
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