JOURNEY TO BORGAFIORD. 
223 
fflord, a mountain of no great elevation afforded 
us a curious spectacle of another kind; a cloud 
of snow., which was passing nearly over our 
heads in an unbroken mass, being impeded 
in its ‘progress by this hill, whose previously 
brown and barren sides, for nearly half way 
down, it a few seconds of time enveloped in 
a white covering as with a sheet. Our en¬ 
campment was fortunately provided with suf¬ 
ficient shelter from the storm by a lofty and 
perpendicular rock, the form of which was so 
strange, ,and the whole so broken into recesses 
and projections, that fancy might here, with 
more justice than in any thing else I ever saw 
of the kind, picture to itself a heap of vast 
and ruined towers, placed upon the summit of 
a sloping bank, for such appeared the loose frag¬ 
ments which had accumulated below. The wild 
solitude, and the storms and snow of Farit, did 
not in the smallest degree prevent the inhabitants 
from exercising their wonted hospitality. The 
women here, as at other places, came around us 
immediately on our arrival, and with a kindness 
peculiar to the sex inquired into our wants, and 
offered us all that their circumstances would en¬ 
able them to afford. As a mark of respect they 
presented their little children to be kissed, or if, 
as was too often the case, our more refined notions 
of cleanliness prevented us from acceding to their 
