“Exactly,” said A. Z. “The _Klamm_ which we are now going to see is a long, narrow passage, made by a stream of water through a mountain of solid rock; but now let us move on, or we shall have to inspect it by torchlight.” They all hurried forward towards the ascent before them, and would probably have felt considerably fatigued had not the continual change in the scenery created unceasing interest. Far as the eye reached, all was green; and beyond, the deep-blue sky, unbroken by a single cloud. A new and gigantic world of mountains rewarded them for the toil of the ascent. Here and there a peasant’s house, with its over-hanging wooden roof, gave life to a picture that, with all its sunshine, would otherwise have been desolate in its loneliness, for no human being was visible. It seemed extraordinary that the ground was so highly cultivated, for road there was none; nor did there seem to be any communication with the world but by a narrow and in some places rather dangerous footway. Cattle were to be seen further up the mountains, on those green spots of turf described by A. Z., and which are to be found sometimes even among the bare crags. These pastures can only be used for a short time in summer; and, as the weather grows colder in autumn, the cattle are driven down lower, until finally they are brought home for the winter, covered with garlands of wild flowers! While Baron Z— was enthusiastically describing “A re-return from the alp,” they had begun to descend into the valley, and already heard the sound of rushing water. Magnificent masses of rock prepared them for the cavern, into which they entered by a natural arch, over which, carved in the stone, are the words “‘Gutta cavat lapidem, non vi sed sæpe cadendo,’ 1833.” “So the cave is altogether formed by the action of the water,” observed Hamilton, looking upwards. “Altogether, as you will soon perceive,” replied Baron Z—. “Some years ago this was a wild place, and frightful accidents often occurred, until our king had a way made through it for the convenience and safety of the persons employed in the drifting of the wood.” The narrow bridge-like way of which he spoke was composed of strong beams and planks; and in the twilight which always reigns in the vaulted tunnel, it appears to hang suspended in the air, being supported by iron cramps driven into the solid rock underneath. The water rages, and above the daylight enters sparingly by a few small isolated openings. “One could fancy this the abode of the ‘Wild Huntsman,’” said A. Z. “I know nothing of the Wild Huntsman,” said Hamilton, “excepting from the scenery in _Der Freyschutz_. Everything I have seen to-day, but most of all this wild cavern, reminds me of it. I should rather like to be here on a stormy night, to hear the wind whistling through these arches. Although not very imaginative, I could almost bring the Wild Huntsman to my view, just here where the sky begins to be visible.”