THE MOUNTAIN. 63 



there is no such feeling; the increase of cold more 

 than counterbalances the removal ; and as the bearing 

 thus produced, is an energy of the living system, 

 instead of a dead weight, exhilaration and pleasure are 

 the consequences. 



On the summits of those cliffy mountains, there are 

 generally large masses of loose stone, and it is no 

 uncommon feat, to send these booming and bounding 

 down the slope, or thundering over the precipice. In 

 the former case, how they dance, dash, and loosen 

 others, till the whole mountain side is in motion ! In 

 the latter, the stone is not seen, but the peals, as it 

 dashes from one projecting point to another, are loud ; 

 they are caught up in echoes, and reverberated from 

 cliff to cliff, till the whole wilderness is in thunder, 

 rendered the more awfully solemn, that there is not a 

 living thing visible, save one small, pale butterfly, and 

 the wind has carried it away before the species could 

 be known. 



Ha! the sound of wings in the abyss, together with 

 a cherup, which again awakens the echoes, and mocks 

 the thundering of the stone. The bird appears more 

 than a thousand feet distant, and yet she is gigantic. 

 What grace of attitude, what strength of pinion, and 

 with what rapidity, yet with what ease, she wheels 

 sunward ; till, far above the summit of the mountain, 

 she leans motionless like a brown speck on the bosom 

 of the sky ! From its size, it must be twelve pounds 

 weight at the least, and yet it absolutely rises, and that 

 rapidly, as if it were of less specific gravity than the 

 medium in which it floats, rarified as it is by a height 

 of nearly a mile. The muscular energy by which that 



