and we must give him battle. Besides our mule, two horses are ordered to be ready by the evening.
Munster, Nov. 11, 1779.
Evening, six o'clock.Again we have had a pleasant and prosperous day. This morning, as we set out early and in good time from Brieg, our host, when we were already on the road, said, "If the mountain (so they call the Furca here) should prove too fearful, you can easily come back, and take another route." With our two horses and mule we soon came upon some pleasant meadows, where the valley becomes so narrow that it is scarcely some gunshots wide. Here are some beautiful pasture-lands, on which stand large trees; while pieces of rock lie scattered about, which have rolled down from the neighbouring mountains. The valley gradually grows narrower; and the traveller is forced to ascend along the side of the mountain, having, the while, the Rhone below him, in a rugged ravine on his left. Above him, however, the land is beautifully spread out. On the variously undulating hills are verdant and rich meadows and pretty hamlets, which, with their dark brown wooden houses, peep out prettily from among the snow. We travelled a good deal on foot, and we did so in turns to accommodate one another; for, although riding is safe enough, still it excites one's alarm to see another riding before you along so narrow a track, and on so weak an animal, and just on the brink of so rugged a precipice. And, as no cattle can be left in the meadows (for the people here shut them all up in sheds at this season), such a country looks lonely; and the thought that one is continually being hemmed in closer and closer by the vast mountains fills the imagination with sombre and disagreeable fancies, enough to make you fall from your seat if you are not very firm in the saddle. Man
