Salenche, Nov. 4, 1779.
Noon.Whilst a dinner is being prepared by very willing hands, I will attempt to set down the most remarkable incidents of our yesterday's journey, which commenced with the early morning. With break of day we set out on foot from Cluse, taking the road toward Balme. In the valley the air was agreeably fresh. The moon, in her last quarter, rose bright before the sun, and charmed us with the sight, as being one which we do not often see. Single light vapours rose upwards from all the chasms in the rocks. It seemed as if the morning air were awakening the young spirits, who took pleasure in meeting the sun with expanded bosoms, and gilding them in his rays. The upper heaven was perfectly clear, except where now and then a single cloudy streak, which the rising sun lit up, swept lightly across it. Balme is a miserable village, not far from the spot where a rocky gorge runs off from the road. We asked the people to guide us through the cave for which the place is famous. At this they kept looking at one another, till at last one said to the second, "Take you the ladder, I will carry the rope: come, gentlemen." This strange invitation did not deter us from following them. Our line of descent passed, first of all, among fallen masses of limestone rock, which by the course of time had been piled up, step by step, in front of the precipitous wall of rock, and were now overgrown with bushes of hazel and beech. Over these you reach, at last, the strata of the rock itself, which you have to climb up slowly and painfully, by means of the ladder and of the steps cut into the rock, and by help of branches of the nut-trees which hung overhead, or of pieces of rope tied to them. After this you find yourself, to your great satisfaction, in a kind of portal, which has been worn out of the rock by the weather, and overlooks the
