We followed for some time a well-defined track round the base of the rocky tower, seeking for the least impregnable part by which we might scale the escarpment, which was now hanging in confused masses over our heads. At last we discovered a narrow natural staircase among the rocks, which led us up to a grassy platform covered with innumerable trees. At the further side of this we found another pile of rocks, and these also we ascended, traversing at last a narrow ledge, which led us up to the highest pinnacle. Now came the tug of war. I had been advised to keep my head cool—it is by nature exceedingly hot—and to brace up my nerves—which, to say the least, were never very strong—and to effect both objects I screwed my hat firmly down over my eyebrows.
My fair guides tripped along like antelopes; but I, being well up in years, and inclined to be heavy, passed the causeway very cautiously indeed. Two unexpected sights burst suddenly upon my view. On our left lay the remains of a vast chamber, deep in the heart of the mountain, the roof of which must have been blown off in the centuries gone by in some terrible convulsion of the earth, and the ruins scattered about in every direction. On our right lay a frightful precipice, and, like imperial eagles, we were pluming our feathers on the very edge. The distance to the tops of the trees below seemed amazing. A sheer wall of rock was beneath our feet, the highest I had ever been on in my life.
At first my head began to feel a little giddy, and at such times a kind of paroxysm comes over me, which in my assumed allegorical character I find it impossible to control. My imagination does not require a very strong charge of dynamite in order to set it going. Where are now my dreams of being able one day to see my native land again, and of embracing the friends, the brothers and sisters of my youth?
