' Descending from the eminence, by a ladder of about
twenty feet, we find ourselves among piles of gigantic rocks, and one
of the most picturesque sights in the world, is to see a file of men
and women passing along those wild and scraggy paths, moving
slowly--slowly, that their lamps may have time to illuminate their
sky-like ceiling and gigantic walls--disappearing behind high
cliffs--sinking into ravines--their lights shining upwards through
fissures in the rocks--then suddenly emerging from some abrupt angle,
standing in the bright gleam of their lamps, relieved by the towering
black masses around them. He, who could paint the infinite variety of
creation, can alone give an adequate idea of this marvellous region.
As you pass along, you hear the roar of invisible waterfalls; and at
the foot of the slope, the river Styx lies before you, deep and black,
overarched with rock. The first glimpse of it brings to mind, the
descent of Ulysses into hell,
"Where the dark rock o'erhangs the infernal lake,
And mingling streams eternal murmurs make."
Across (or rather down) these unearthly waters, the guide can convey
but four passengers at once. The lamps are fastened to the prow; the
images of which, are reflected in the dismal pool. If you are
impatient of delay, or eager for new adventures, you can leave your
companions lingering about the shore, and cross the Styx by a
dangerous bridge of precipices overhead.
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