Even now the general public is so slightly informed upon the subject that it is by no means uncommon to find educated persons who have never heard of the Dolomites at all, or who take them for a religious sect, like the Mormons or the Druses. Such a reproach could hardly be levelled at any one now. The difficulties encountered by Miss Edwards and her friend may be concisely summed up in the remark that there were only two side-saddles at that time in the whole country, and of these only one was for hire. It was necessary, therefore, for the ladies to bring their own. Sometimes for days together the friends travelled without meeting a single stranger to the country either at the inns or on the roads, and they met only three parties of English during the whole time between entering the country on the Conegliano side and leaving it by Botzen. And, even now, over forty years after, the solitary places of the Tyrol are unspoiled by a crowd of tourists, though fully appreciated by many a nature-lover. One of the most remarkable rocks that Miss Edwards saw was the Sasso di Ronch, which attracts annually hundreds of visitors. This extraordinary isolated peak stands ... apart and alone, like a solitary remnant of outer battlement left standing beside a razed fortress; it rises to a height of at least 250 feet above the grass at its base. Seen thus in profile, it is difficult to believe that it is the same Sasso di Ronch which one has been looking at from below. It looks like a mere aiguille or spire, disproportionately slender for its height, and curved at the top as if just ready to pitch over. Some one has compared the Matterhorn to the head and neck of a war-horse rearing up behind the valley of Zermatt; so might the Sasso di Ronch from this point be compared to the head and neck of a giraffe. Standing upon its knife-edge of ridge--all precipice below, all sky above, the horizon one long sweep of jagged peaks--it makes as wild and weird a subject as ever I sat down to sketch before or since. (_A Midsummer Ramble in the Dolomites_, Amelia B. Edwards.) The wild confusion of some parts of the Dolomites, their rent and torn spires, cannot be attributed to volcanic origin, for limestone is not volcanic; the greater part of the gigantic carving must have been done by the slow agencies of wind and weather and rain working on silently through age after age, and in some cases by earthquakes, which have overthrown the precariously-balanced needles and solid blocks of stone. One curious peak, which, though attaining to no great height (9833 feet) is well known owing to its odd form, is the Drei Zinnen or Three Peaks, rising like three pointing fingers of a giant hand. Miss Edwards’ description can hardly be improved upon. She says: