At four o’clock the following morning we left Orsova, lighted by a perfect galaxy of stars; but shivering from the damp vapours which were hanging in dense folds about the Danube. The light was just breaking as we reached the foot of the mountains, and began to ascend a precipitous road, slightly guarded on the outer edge by a wooden railing; whence we looked down into rifts and chasms filled with the most profuse foliage; at whose bottom rippled along the pigmy streams which in the winter season swell to torrents, and awake the depths of the forest-fastnesses with their brawling voices. It is impossible to give the faintest picture of this mountain-pass, with its bridges of rude timber flung over almost unfathomable gulfs—its bold, overhanging paths, along which the narrow wheels have scarcely space to pass—its dense masses of forest foliage, linked together by the graceful wreaths of the wild vine with its blood red leaves, and the clinging tendrils of the wild cotton plant with its snowy tufts of down—its herds of cattle—its flocks of goats—and its green grassy glades, laughing in the sunshine—its ever-recurring effects of light and shade—its mysterious silence—and its surpassing majesty. As we travelled on, the day-beam grew brighter in the heavens, and the horizon became one rich canopy of pink and violet. There were moments when I was breathless with awe as we traversed that leafy solitude. I never thought of danger; even when the half wild animals that drew us were galloping at their greatest speed down the mountain-side, with a shelf of rock walling us up on the one hand, and a deep precipice yawning over against us on the other. I had not an instant to spare to the possible peril of our position; I saw only, I felt only, the glory which surrounded me. I could at that moment fully understand why the mountaineer clung to liberty as to existence—how he who had once breathed the pure air of heaven from the rocky brow on which the clouds of night were wont to rest, and the sunshine of day to sport, must pine amid the gloom of the valley, and the monotony of the plain. And when we once more descended to the river’s edge, where all was safe and level, I only felt regret that I could not call back the mystery and the magnificence of the rock-seated forests, even although there might be peril in their paths.