I left Salzburg on the afternoon after writing my last epistle; and left it with regret at not having been able to pay a visit to the salt mines of Berchtesgaden and Hallein:  but “non omnia possumus omnes.”  The first stage, to Koppf, was absolutely up hill, the whole way, a short German league and a half:  probably about seven English miles.  We were compelled to put a leader to our two horses, and even then we did little more than creep.  But the views of the country we had left behind us, as we continued ascending, were glorious in the extreme.  Each snow-capt mountain appeared to rise in altitude—­as we continued to mount.  Our views however were mere snatches.  The sun was about to set in a bed of rain.  Large black clouds arose; which, although they added to the grandeur of picturesque composition, prevented us from distinctly surveying the adjacent country.  Masses of deep purple floated along the fir-clad hills:  now partially illumined by the sun’s expiring rays, and now left in deep shadow—­to be succeeded by the darkness of night.

The sun was quite set as we stopped to change horses at Koppf:  and a sort of premature darkness came on:—­which, however, was relieved for a short time by a sky of partial but unusual clearness of tint.  The whole had a strange and magical effect.  As the horses were being put to, I stepped across the road to examine the interior of a small church—­where I observed, in the side aisle, a group of figures of the size of life—­which, at that sombre hour, had a very extraordinary effect.  I approached nearer, and quickly perceived that this group was intended to represent the Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Our Saviour, at a little distance, was upon his knees, praying; and the piety of some religieuse (as I afterwards learnt) had caused a white handkerchief to be fixed between his hands.  The disciples were represented asleep, upon the ground.  On coming close to the figures (which were raised upon a platform, of half the height of a man) and removing the moss upon which they were recumbent, I found that they were mere trunks, without legs or feet:  the moss having been artfully placed, so as to conceal these defects when the objects were seen at a distance.  Of course it was impossible to refrain from a smile, on witnessing such a sight.

The horses were harnessed in ten minutes; and, having no longer any occasion for a leader, we pursued our route with the usual number of two.  The evening was really enchanting; and upon the summit of one of the loftiest of the hills—­which rose perpendicularly as a bare sharp piece of rock—­we discerned a pole, which we conjectured was fixed there for some particular purpose.  The postilion told us that it was the stem of the largest fir-tree in the country, and that there were annual games celebrated around it—­in the month of May, when its summit was crowned with a chaplet.  Our route was now skirted on each side, alternately, by water and by