THE OLD BUCK. 295 



nearly to the sky-line. I was gloriously enthroned. To 

 my left the piled-up mountains, grey or snow- covered, 

 with the magnificent Zug Spitz forming the last out- 

 work of the impassable barrier, and the peaks of all just 

 veiled with a thinly-woven cloud ; before me the whole 

 declivity, with broken rocks and precipices and green 

 bushes, stretching downwards to the vale; Farchant, 

 with its red church- spire, its cottages, and road and 

 river; while further off across the pasturage was Gar- 

 misch, at the foot of the Kramer. To the right there 

 was a sweet sight. Through a dip in the mountain the 

 high vale of Ettal appeared, — a beautiful expanse of 

 green-sward, and the stately church too was seen ; and 

 behind this peep in the mountain other distinct peaks 

 were visible, gradually sloping downwards to the plain, 

 and losing themselves at last in the flat land beyond. I 

 looked on all this from my rocky throne, and the sight 

 and the feeling of self-reliance, and of strength in every 

 limb, filled my whole frame with a thrill of exhilirating 

 gladness. And over my broad domain — for mine it was, 

 but without the care of governing — there lay a murmur- 

 ing stillness ; the hum of life that breathed and moved 

 below me in the vale, — of distant cataracts reverberating 

 among the hollow rocks : it hung in the air, or rather 

 was inwoven with it. It was a very different stillness 

 from that of the high desolate mountain-peaks ; for there 

 it is a palpable thing, which clings to your heart and op- 

 presses your chest by its weight ; and it comes upon you 

 surely, like the chill of death, that creeps along the 

 limbs, and cannot be evaded, despite your inmost striv- 

 ing and endeavour. 



It has often occurred to me, when thus looking down 

 upon a land, how solemnly sad must have been the feel- 

 ings of Moses when he went up from the plains of Moab 



