in pmticular Districts. 265 



taphor the voice of winds imprisoned in the bosom of the deep. 

 This night, March 7., I Hstened for the first time to what was 

 then perfectly new to me, although I experienced its repetition 

 on many subsequent occasions, whenever the temperature fell 

 very suddenly *." 



In this case, as well as in that mentioned by Sir Edward 

 Parry, it should be remarked that temperature was closely con- 

 nected with the sounds, a proof that the peculiar state of the 

 air, with respect to its radiating powers of heat, is an important 

 feature in causing these phenomena, and so far at least may be 

 adduced in support of even the morning music of Memnon's 

 statue, when the sudden action of the solar rays might produce 

 incalculable effects, darting on certain substances, surrounded 

 with a temperature considerably cooled down by dews, and the 

 chill of the night air. 



I shall conclude by mentioning two other causes, bearing per- 

 haps more closely on the original question, which, like the echo of 

 Les Rochers, have fallen under my own immediate observation. 



In the autumn of 1828, when on a tour through Les Hautes 

 Pyrenees, I formed one of a party, quitting Bagneses de Lu- 

 chon at midnight, with an intention of reaching the heights of 

 the Porte de Venasque, one of the wildest and most romantic 

 boundaries between the French and Spanish frontier, from the 

 summit of which the spectator looks at once upon the inacces- 

 sible ridges of the Maladetta, the most lofty point of the Py- 

 renean range. After winding our way through the deep woods 

 and ravines, constantly ascending above the valley of Luchon, 

 we gained the Hospice about two in the morning, and, after 

 remaining there a short time, proceeded with the first blush of 

 dawn to encounter the very steep gorge terminating in the pass 

 itself, a narrow vertical fissure through a massive wall of per- 

 pendicular rock. It is not my intention to detail the features 

 of the magnificent scene which burst upon our view as we 

 emerged from this splendid portal, and stood upon Spanish 

 ground, — neitlicr to describe the feelings of awe which rivetted 

 us to the spot, as we gazed, in speechless admiration, on the 

 lone, desolate, and (if the term may be applied to a mountain), 

 the ghastly form of the appropriately-named Mahdetta. I ai- 

 * Head's Forest Scenes, p. 20\. 



