340 The Hunting Grounds 



thousands of feet below, and we could trace the 

 winding course of the Bowani river for some scores 

 of miles as it gleamed in the rays of the sun like a 

 silver thread. To our right, rose a grand amphi- 

 theatre of frowning heights, every portion of which, 

 save only the scarped face of some perpendicular 

 cliff, was covered with primeval forest, and far off 

 could be discerned the fringed outline of more distant 

 ranges, blue and indistinct in the fading light of 

 departing day. It was a landscape of transcendent 

 beauty which has left a vivid impression on my mind, 

 for perhaps the gorgeous sunset, which gilds all eastern 

 scenery with a beauty peculiarly its own, may have 

 rendered this more charming, by casting those rich 

 golden tints upon the lofty peaks and rugged cliffs 

 which the painter loves to throw over his picture. 



The day was fast drawing to a close, and it was 

 time to think of preparing our bivouac for the night, 

 so we selected a rising ground for our encampment 

 under the lee of a huge boulder of moss -covered rock, 

 flanked by two strange-looking trees, whose dark 

 dense foliage, gnarled branches, and tortuous roots, 

 reminded us much of those ancient yews that are so 

 often met with in the country churchyards of old 

 England. This arcadian nook was embellished by 

 natural parterres of orchideous plants, wild camellias, 

 rhododendrons, and other flowering shrubs, whilst here 

 and there were scattered clumps of stately forest-trees 



