ghts to the right of the river,
for a point which gives a more accurate idea of Saorgio than we could
obtain from the valley. The view is attempted in aquatinta in Beaumont's
Maritime Alps, and badly as it is executed, the original drawing must
have been good, and, as far as I can judge, have given an accurate idea
of it. The peasants call the place by some name sounding in their patois
like Chavousse; it cannot, however, be mistaken. This is the only spot
between Breglio and Tende which would be adapted for a drawing; but the
scenery, nevertheless, is of the most stupendous and extraordinary
nature I ever witnessed, exceeding, on the whole, the defile of Gondo
and Iselle in the route of the Simplon, and more decided, though less
varied in its features, than that justly admired spot. The pass is not
on a larger scale than the Val d'Ollioules, as far as Saorgio; but after
leaving the latter village, the rocks rise to a much greater height, and
assume a more savage character. It is impossible to form an adequate
idea of the depth of the defile and its effect on the eye, without
actual inspection; the nearest approach to it will be made by conceiving
a chasm rent from top to bottom by an earthquake through Snowdon, or
any other mountain of similar height. For about twelve miles you travel
in the condition of those fabled criminals,

"Quos super atra silex jamjam lapsura, cadentique
Imminet assimilis."

[Footnote 56: There is, I believe, no inn at Saorgio.]

Jutting rocks, whose gradual change of posture is marked by the
inclination of the pines on them, hang toppling over your head at a
height to which the strongest voice could not be heard from the valley;
and above and between them just peep glimpses of still more elevated
heights, where a tree appears hardly of the size of a pin's head. A
peculiar gray, sombre atmosphere overspreads the whole at noon day,
similar to that which prevails during a solar eclipse; and the deep echo
of the river is the only sound heard for miles. On the whole, I never
saw any place so calculated to convey gloomy and wild ideas, and the
Sicilian name of "Val Demone," or John Bunyan's "Valley of the Shadow of
Death," would be appropriately applied to this savage spot. Nor would
the danger be imaginary at the breaking up of a frost, or after violent
rains, which might bring one of the highest rocks perpendicularly down
without the intervention of a single crag to give warning and break