through the lonely valleys of the Alps, or sitting in solitude in some
far-away gorge of the mountains.

As I grew older I pushed my journeys further, and carried my explorings
to the very foot of the Splugen, through that dreariest of all mountain
passes, the "Verlohrnes Loch." The savage grandeur of this desolate
spot, its gloom, its solitude, its utter desertion, its almost
uninhabitable character, gave it a peculiar attraction in my eyes, for
there nothing ever occurred to dispel the colorings of my imagination.
There I revelled at will amidst the wildest flights of my fancy. An old
castle, one of the many feudal remains of this tract of country, stood
upon a lone crag to the centre of the valley. It seemed as if Nature
herself had destined the rock for such a structure, for while there was
barely space sufficient at the top, the approach lay by a zig-zag: path,
rugged and dangerous, cut in the solid granite. When I first saw this
rude old tower, the melting snows of early summer had flooded a small
rivulet at the base of the crag, and the stream, being divided in its
course against the rock, swept along on either side, leaving the castle,
as it were, on an island.

I had long resolved to scale this cliff, the view from the summit of
which I knew would be magnificent, extending for miles both up and down
the valley; and at last, took advantage of my first holiday from school
to accomplish my purpose. The Forlorn Glen, as the translation of the
name would imply, lay about thirteen miles away by taking the mountain
paths, though its distance by road was more than double, and to go
and return in the same day required an early start. I set out before
daybreak, having packed my knapsack with food to last me while I should
be away.

I never remember to have felt a greater degree of exhilaration than as I
set forth that morning. It was in the month of June, that season of all
others the most beautiful in Alpine scenery, since it combines all
the charms of spring with the balmy air and more genial atmosphere of
summer. The cherry-trees were all in blossom in the glens, and the rich
pink of the apricot peeped out from many a little grove. I went along,
happy and light-hearted, passing many a spot to which I had given some
name of a far-away scene, and recognizing places which once had been
to me the utmost limits of my wanderings. So, thought I, shall it be
in after-life, and we can look back upon efforts that we once de