ivulet, that, like a silver string, connects it with the lake.

Charmed with the view of this lovely valley, you would desire to visit
it. You would descend the long slope of Chumulari, and straggling
through the labyrinth of rugged foot hills that surround it, you would
reach the brow of the bounding precipice; but there you must come to a
halt. No path leads downward; and if you are still determined to set
foot on the shores of that smiling lake, you will have to make the
descent of the cliffs by means of a rope or rope-ladder several hundred
feet in length.

With comrades to help you, you may accomplish this; but once in the
valley, you can only get out of it by remounting your rope-ladder: for
you will find no other means of exit.

At one end of the valley you may perceive a gap in the cliffs; and fancy
that through this you may make your way out to the side of the mountain.
The gap may be easily reached, by going up a gentle acclivity; but
having passed through it, you will discover that it only guides you into
a gorge, like the valley itself, bounded on both sides by precipitous
cliff's. This gorge is half filled by a glacier; on the surface of
which you may pass for a certain distance downward. At the end of that
descent you will find the glacier cut by a deep crevasse, a hundred feet
in depth and a hundred in width. Without bridging the crevasse, you can
go no further; and if you did succeed in bridging it, further down you
would find others deeper and wider, over which it would be impossible
for you to pass.

Return then, and examine the singular valley into which you have made
your way. You will find there trees of many kinds, quadrupeds of many
kinds, birds of many kinds, and insects of many kinds--you will find
every form of animal life, except that of the human being. If you find
not man, however, you may discover traces of him. Close to the
hot-spring, and forming a sort of "lean-to" against the cliff, you may
observe a rude hut built with blocks of stone, and plastered with mud
from the bed of the rivulet. Enter it. You will find it empty, cold,
untenanted by living thing. No furniture. Stone couches covered with
sedge and grass, upon which men may have slept or lain; and two or three
blocks of granite upon which they may have sat. That is all. Some
pieces of skin hanging around the walls, and the bones of animals
strewed over the ground outside, give a clue to the kind of food upon
whic