ver against the hamlet,
bringing out its bolder prominences. Far below, the fleecy clouds were
still rolling themselves up the mountain-sides, or gradually
dispersing as the sun caught them on their emerging from the valley
below. The view was bold and striking, displaying the grandeur of the
scenery of Dormilhouse in one of its best aspects.

Setting out on the return journey to Palons, we descended the face of
the mountain on which Dormilhouse stands, by a steep footpath right in
front of it, down towards the falls of the Biasse. Looking back, the
whole village appeared above us, cottage over cottage, and ledge over
ledge, with its stern background of rocky mountain.

Immediately under the village, in a hollow between two shoulders of
rock, the cascade of the Biasse leaps down into the valley. The
highest leap falls in a jet of about a hundred feet, and the lower,
divided into two by a projecting ledge, breaks into a shower of spray
which falls about a hundred and fifty feet more into the abyss below.
Even in Switzerland this fall would be considered a fine object; but
in this out-of-the-way place, it is rarely seen except by the
villagers, who have water and cascades more than enough.

We were told on the spot, that some eighty years since an avalanche
shot down the mountain immediately on to the plateau on which we
stood, carrying with it nearly half the village of Dormilhouse; and
every year the avalanches shoot down at the same place, which is
strewn with the boulders and debris that extend far down into the
valley.

At the bottom of the Tourniquet we joined M. Charpiot, accompanying
the donkey laden with the blankets and knapsacks, and proceeded with
him on our way down the valley towards his hospitable parsonage at
Palons.

CHAPTER V.

GUILLESTRE AND THE VALLEY OF QUEYRAS.

We left Palons on a sharp, bright morning in July, with the prospect
of a fine day before us, though there had been a fall of snow in the
night, which whitened the tops of the neighbouring hills. Following
the road along the heights on the right bank of the Biasse, and
passing the hamlet of Chancellas, another favourite station of Neff's,
a rapid descent led us down into the valley of the Durance, which we
crossed a little above the village of St. Crepin, with the strong
fortress of Mont Dauphin before us a few miles lower down the valley.

This remote corner in the mountains was the scene of much fighting in
early times be