her, thickening and
darkening at every moment, and then, as though overweighted, slowly to
descend, shutting out chalet and shady copse and crag, as they fell, on
their way to the plain beneath. It was a grievous change from the bright
picture a few moments back, and not the less disheartening, that the
heavily charged mist now melted into rain, that soon fell in torrents.
With not a rock nor a shrub to shelter under, I had nothing for it but
to trudge onward to the nearest village, wherever that might be. How
speedily the slightest touch of the real will chase away the fictitious
and imaginary! No more dreams nor fancies now, as wet and soaked I
plodded on, my knapsack seeming double its true weight, and my stick
appearing to take root each time it struck the ground. The fog, too, was
so dense that I was forced to feel my way as I went. The dull roar
of the Rhine was the only sound for a long time; but this, at length,
became broken by the crashing noise of timber carried down by the
torrents, and the louder din of the torrents themselves as they came
tumbling down the mountain. I would have retraced my steps to Bregenz,
but that I knew the places I had passed dryshod in the morning would by
this time have become impassable rivers. My situation was a dreary
one, and not without peril, since there was no saying when or where
a mountain cataract might not burst its way down the cliffs and sweep
clean across the road towards the Rhine.

Had there been one spot to offer shelter, even the poorest and meanest,
I would gladly have taken it, and made up my mind to await better
weather; but there was not a bank, nor even a bush to cower under, and I
was forced to trudge on. It seemed to me, at last, that I must have
been walking many hours; but having no watch, and being surrounded with
impenetrable fog, I could make no guess of the time, when, at length, a
louder and deeper sound appeared to fill the air, and make the very
mist vibrate with its din. The surging sound of a great volume of water,
sweeping along through rocks and fallen trees, apprised me that I was
nearing a torrent; while the road itself, covered with some inches of
water, showed that the stream had already risen above its embankments.
There was real danger in this; light carriages--the great lumbering
diligence itself--had been known to be carried away by these suddenly
swollen streams, and I began seriously to fear disaster. Wading
cautiously onward, I reache