afe yet! There's a pass! there's a pass!"

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE LONE MOUNTAIN VALLEY.

A pass there was, sure enough, that opened between the cliffs like a
great gate. Why they had not perceived it sooner was because the gorge
bent a little to the right before opening to this outlet; and, of
course, the bend from a distance appeared to be the termination of the
ravine.

A hundred yards from the bend brought them into the great gate between
the cliffs, and there a view opened before their eyes that filled their
hearts with joy and admiration.

Perhaps in all the world they could not have looked upon a more singular
landscape. Right before their faces, and somewhat below the level on
which they stood, lay a valley. It was nearly of a circular shape, and,
perhaps, a league or more in circumference. In the middle of this
valley was a lake several hundred yards in diameter. The whole bottom
of the valley appeared to be a plane, but slightly elevated above the
water level, consisting of green meadows, beautifully interspersed with
copses of shrubbery and clumps of trees, with foliage of rich and varied
colours. What appeared to be droves of cattle and herds of deer were
browsing on the meadows, or wandering around the copses; while flocks of
waterfowl disported themselves over the blue water of the lake.

So park-like was the aspect of this sequestered valley, that the eyes of
our travellers instinctively wandered over its surface in search of
human dwellings or the forms of human beings; and were only astonished
at not perceiving either. They looked for a house,--a noble mansion,--a
palace to correspond to that fair park. They looked for chimneys among
the trees--for the ascending smoke. No trace of all these could be
detected. A smoke there was, but it was not that of a fire. It was a
white vapour that rose near one side of the valley, curling upward like
steam. This surprised and puzzled them. They could not tell what
caused it, but they could tell that it was not the smoke of a fire.

But the form of the valley--its dimensions--its central lake--its green
meadows and trees--its browsing herds--its wild fowl might have been
seen elsewhere. All these things might occur, and do occur in many
parts of the earth's surface without the scene being regarded as
singular or remarkable. It was not these that have led us to
characterise the landscape in question as one of the most singular in
the worl