It is inhabited by a few woodmen and their families, and, but for the road which passes through, would be as perfect a solitude as the Happy Valley of Rasselas.  At the farther end a winding road called “The Ascent” leads up the steep mountain to an elevated region of country thinly settled and covered with herds of cattle.  The cherries—­which in the Rhine-plain below had long gone—­were just ripe here.  The people spoke a most barbarous dialect; they were social and friendly, for everybody greeted us, and sometimes, as we sat on a bank by the roadside, those who passed by would say “Rest thee!” or “Thrice rest!”

Passing by the Titi Lake, a small body of water which was spread out among the hills like a sheet of ink, so deep was its Stygian hue, we commenced ascending a mountain.  The highest peak of the Schwarzwald, the Feldberg, rose not far off, and on arriving at the top of this mountain we saw that a half hour’s walk would bring us to its summit.  This was too great a temptation for my love of climbing heights; so, with a look at the descending sun to calculate how much time we could spare, we set out.  There was no path, but we prest directly up the steep side through bushes and long grass, and in a short time reached the top, breathless from such exertion in the thin atmosphere.

The pine-woods shut out the view to the north and east, which is said to be magnificent, as the mountain is about five thousand feet high.  The wild black peaks of the Black Forest were spread below us, and the sun sank through golden mist toward the Alsatian hills.  Afar to the south, through cloud and storm, we could just trace the white outline of the Swiss Alps.  The wind swept through the pines around, and bent the long yellow grass among which we sat, with a strange, mournful sound, well suiting the gloomy and mysterious region.  It soon grew cold; the golden clouds settled down toward us, and we made haste to descend to the village of Lenzkirch before dark.

Next morning we set out early, without waiting to see the trial of archery which was to take place among the mountain-youths.  Their booths and targets, gay with banners, stood on a green meadow beside the town.  We walked through the Black Forest the whole forenoon.  It might be owing to the many wild stories whose scenes are laid among these hills, but with me there was a peculiar feeling of solemnity pervading the whole region.  The great pine-woods are of the very darkest hue of green, and down their hoary, moss-floored aisles daylight seems never to have shone.  The air was pure and clear and the sunshine bright, but it imparted no gayety to the scenery; except the little meadows of living emerald which lay occasionally in the lap of a dell, the landscape wore a solemn and serious air.  In a storm it must be sublime.