trymen had ever ventured
to make. It was singular enough that only one person in the town could
be found to accompany me as a guide, or who knew any thing of
the track through the forest, although the abbey is distant only
twenty-five miles.

I set out with the guide just at day-break, mounted on a small Norman
horse, and armed with pistols and a sword-cane, in case of meeting
with wolves, which the mayor of Solignie had cautioned me against, as
abounding throughout the country. We travelled, after leaving the
main road, at the distance of a league, through a country scarcely
appearing to be inhabited. Here and there a lone cot, a mere speck,
met the eye amidst a landscape composed of nothing but barren wastes
and thick forests, nearly impervious to the light. We had penetrated
about half a mile through one of the latter, my attention occupied
with the romantic wildness of the scene, when we were alarmed by the
howling of a wolf. My guide crossed himself, and began cracking his
whip with the noise and singular dexterity peculiar to the French
postillions; and as we entered a part of the forest, impenetrable but
for traces known only to those who are accustomed to them, he related
(by way of consolation, I suppose,) several stories of the peasantry
having been recently attacked, and some destroyed, by wolves; and one
instance of a woman having had her infant torn from her arms, only a
short time since, in the neighbourhood.

On quitting the forest the track was now and then diversified by the
ruins of a solitary cottage, or the mouldering remains of a crucifix,
raised by pious hands to mark some event, or to guide the traveller;
and after traversing a rocky plain, covered with heath and wild thyme,
where some herds of sheep and goats were browsing, attended by the
shepherd, we entered the Forest of Bellegarde. This forest spreads
over a large extent of country, and is so dark and intricate, that
those best acquainted with it frequently lose their way. No vestige of
human footsteps or of the track of animals appeared; a mark, here and
there, on some of the trees, was the only direction! Pursuing our way
through turnings and windings the most perplexing, we found ourselves
to be on the overhanging brow of a hill, the descent of which was so
precipitous, that we were under the necessity of dismounting; and by
a winding path, hollowed out in its side, descended through a sort
of labyrinth towards the valley, whose sides we