90 WANDERINGS AND PONDERINGS 



blackness. The clouds increase and multiply; faster and 

 faster, they float onward, borne on the wings of the wind; 

 soon the bright but evanescent beings will pass behind the 

 mountain, and be lost to us. Ah, how is this? they pass 

 not behind ; but, one after another, they cut the dark out- 

 line of the mountain, and float in wondrous beauty between 

 us and that magnificent mass. On, on they come, till the 

 mountain's base is lost, and the mountain itself, as the bank 

 of clouds climbs higher and higher up its side, looks like an 

 island sinking in the sea. 



For hours did I ponder on this beautiful sight, till the moon, 

 getting farther to the north-west, lighted up some of the more 

 prominent ridges, throwing the other parts into shadow still 

 more deeply than before : every minute now gave fresh 

 features to the scene ; the clouds parted, and were scattered 

 or hidden behind by the projection of the mountain ; few of 

 them were in sight when the Insect-Hunter retired to rest. 



Chapter VII. 



[The Brecon Beacon.] 



The next morning was cloudy ; there had been rain in the 

 night, and the atmosphere was beautifully transparent; the 

 immediate prospect was remarkably distinct, but there was 

 no Beacon, — this great feature in the landscape appeared to 

 have been shorn from the earth. The Insect-Hunter had 

 determined to ascend the mountain, and therefore listened, 

 with somewhat amused ears, to the repeated statements of 

 the utter impossibility of doing so. The ascent is at all times 

 dangerous; but when the mountain is enveloped in cloud, the 

 danger is tenfold, because you may walk over a precipice 

 without being at all aware that you are near one. We found 

 no one who could give the least information as to the course 

 we ought to take ; no one to whom we spoke had ever 

 ascended the mountain, or had the slightest intention of ever 

 doing so. The Beacon is not like Snowdon, Malvern Hills, 

 &c. — fashionable, — there are no donkies or ponies pressed 

 into your service by their disinterested proprietors: there is 

 but a solitary feeling on the subject — wonder at the excessive 



