Words are idle on such subjects; what can I say, but that it was a noble vision, that satisfied the eye and stirred the imagination in all its secret pulses?  Had that been, as afterward seemed likely, the last act of my life, there could not have been a finer decoration painted on the curtain which was to drop upon it.

About four o’clock we began our descent.  Near the summit the traces of the path are not distinct, and I said to Mr. S., after a while, that we had lost it.  He said, he thought that was of no consequence, we could find oar way down.  I thought however it was, as the ground was full of springs that were bridged over in the pathway.  He accordingly went to look for it, and I stood still because so tired that I did not like to waste any labor.  Soon he called to me that he had found it, and I followed in the direction where he seemed to be.  But I mistook, overshot it, and saw him no more.  In about ten minutes I became alarmed, and called him many times.  It seems he on his side did the same, but the brow of some hill was between us, and we neither saw nor heard one another.

I then thought I would make the best of my way down, and I should find him upon my arrival.  But in doing so I found the justice of my apprehension about the springs, as, so soon as I got to the foot of the hills, I would sink up to my knees in bog, and have to go up the hills again, seeking better crossing-places.  Thus I lost much time; nevertheless, in the twilight I saw at last the lake and the inn of Rowardennan on its shore.

Between me and it lay direct a high heathery hill, which I afterward found is called “The Tongue,” because hemmed in on three sides by a watercourse.  It looked as if, could I only get to the bottom of that, I should be on comparatively level ground.  I then attempted to descend in the watercourse, but, finding that impracticable, climbed on the hill again and let myself down by the heather, for it was very steep and full of deep holes.  With great fatigue I got to the bottom, but when about to cross the watercourse there, it looked so deep in the dim twilight that I felt afraid.  I got down as far as I could by the root of a tree, and threw down a stone; it sounded very hollow, and made me afraid to jump.  The shepherds told me afterward, if I had, I should probably have killed myself, it was so deep and the bed of the torrent full of sharp stones.

I then tried to ascend the hill again, for there was no other way to get off it, but soon sunk down utterly exhausted.  When able to get up again and look about me, it was completely dark.  I saw far below me a light, that looked about as big as a pin’s head, which I knew to be from the inn at Rowardennan, but heard no sound except the rush of the waterfall, and the sighing of the night-wind.

For the first few minutes after I perceived I had got to my night’s lodging, such as it was, the prospect seemed appalling.  I was very lightly clad,—­my feet and dress were very wet,—­I had only a little shawl to throw round me, and a cold autumn wind had already come, and the night-mist was to fall on me, all fevered and exhausted as I was.  I thought I should not live through the night, or, if I did, live always a miserable invalid.  There was no chance to keep myself warm by walking, for, now it was dark, it would be too dangerous to stir.