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THE HIMALAYAS.

The Himalayan mountains form a chain nearly a thousand miles in length, and about a hundred and fifty miles in breadth. They consist in many places of rugged and bare rocks, shooting aloft into the sky, and divided by deep ravines, often ending in dark chasms, which are sometimes wooded, but in other cases totally devoid of vegetation, as if they had been worn by torrents. "Here," says a writer on the subject, "is concentrated all that is sublime in the scenery of nature. On every side rise snowy summits of stupendous height, and various forms, mingled with conical volcanic peaks, regularly rounded hills, and rugged and frightful precipices."

In some places, "the traveller has to scale the most terrific heights by a path so narrow as not to admit two abreast, which winds along the mountain, and often along bare and perpendicular precipices, by a narrow and irregular flight of steps, or by natural irregularities in the face of the polished marble rock, and sometimes by a projecting ledge not more than a foot broad, whilst a declivity of 600 or 700 feet in depth opens on the outer side. The steps, at certain projecting points, where the rock is perpendicular, wind in lines of zigzag, not more than ten or twelve feet in length, at angles so sharp that, in a length of twenty-four feet, the actual height gained is not more than ten feet; and they are often placed at most inconvenient distances, which greatly increases the danger and difficulty of access."

In some places these paths would be quite inaccessible, if it were not for the help of the natives, who carry travellers in wooden chairs upon their backs. Even with this assistance we may easily imagine the terror and inconvenience to which travellers are exposed in traversing those fearful regions. Exposed alike to the burning heat of the sun, and to piercing winds which come laden with cold from sweeping over the masses of snow which cover lofty mountain peaks even in the hottest regions; oppressed with a difficulty of breathing, which is always felt as we ascend higher into the atmosphere, and the air becomes more rarefied; and giddy with looking down frightful precipices, we may almost wonder how human beings can ever live through the perils of such a journey, particularly Europeans, who have not had their sense of the dangers to which they are exposed lessened by the force of habit. Yet we find every day the restless energy of the human mind overcoming personal fear, and men encountering the most fearful risks from the love of fame — the wish to acquire money, and sometimes merely from curiosity. Youth and strength have a pleasure in conquering difficulties; and a love for travelling seems almost inherent in some active minds. Mountain scenery is also inexpressibly grand; and man seems brought nearer to his Creator when surveying these gigantic proofs of the Almighty Power. It is, perhaps, from some feeling of this kind, that we generally find lofty mountains the resort of pilgrims; who, though they repair there ostensibly to offer homage to different deities, must, in such places, all feel impressed with one sentiment, namely, the feebleness of man, when compared with the majesty of nature. How poor and insignificant, indeed, must the petty struggles of humanity appear amidst these tremendous mountains, where, as Bishop Heber tells us, "the horizon is terminated by a vast range of ice and snow, extending its battalion of white and shining spears from east to west as far as the eye can follow it; the principal hills rising like towers in a glittering rampart."

The Himalayas are traversed by means of what are called ghauts or passes; and which, though they are sunk like valleys among the peaks, are yet at the enormous height of from 3000 to 4000 feet above the level of the sea; or about the same height as the summit of the loftiest Scotch and Welsh mountains. The ghauts are generally free from snow, and are frequently covered with the richest vegetation, while the lofty peaks which rise on each side, and all that are around and above them, are glittering with ice. Whenever an opening occurs in the rocks, a long vista of icy peaks is seen glistening in the sun, and reflecting a thousand brilliant colours; and these are so distinct, and stand so boldly out from the clear blue sky behind them, that peaks of remarkable form and height have been seen and recognized at the distance of 150 miles.

The highest mountains of the Himalayas are called Chumularee, and Dhawala-giri, or the White Mountain; and as both these are between 28,000 and 29,000 feet high, they are supposed to be the loftiest mountains in the world. Neither of them have yet been ascended; and, indeed, from the steepness of their sides, and their enormous height, it seems almost impossible that any ordinary mortals should possess sufficient strength to reach their summits.

The valleys of the Himalayas are covered with wood, and some of the finest pines and firs we possess have been brought from them; the rocks are also frequently covered with splendid Orchideous plants of the richest colours and most fantastic forms. The birds and insects are also of splendid colours.

The meaning of the word Himalaya is seat of snow, in allusion to the eternal snows which rest on the highest summits of the peaks.

ADAM'S PEAK.

Adam's Peak is a mountain of a very peculiar shape; and forms the highest pinnacle of a mountain range situated in Ceylon, about thirty miles from the city of Kandy. It has seldom been ascended by Europeans, but in 1829 Mr. Marshall, accompanied by a friend, succeeded in reaching the top, and the following description is abridged from the account published of their journey. "On approaching the mountain they saw a few huts of the natives built on the extreme jagged points of the lower hills, in order to escape the elephants, and for some distance their pathway lay along the ridge of a narrow hill, on each side of which flowed a river." These rivers at some places fall over stupendous precipices, forming cascades of great magnitude. From the height of one of these cascades, the whole mass of water which passed over the rock seemed to rise again in white vapour. Above these impetuous rivers rose lofty ranges of peaked mountains, the whole presenting one of the most magnificent pictures in the world. The peak has always been considered by the natives as a Holy mount, and pilgrimages were very often made to it; the returning pilgrims, as an act of charity and duty, disposing of their walking staves on the face of the hill, so as to assist future travellers in their ascent. When Mr. Marshall came to a very steep part of the road, he found a succession of these walking sticks stuck firmly into the earth, and bundles of rods laid horizontally behind them, by which means tolerable steps were formed. As, however, pilgrimages by the road they came had wholly ceased since the dominion of the English, all these conveniences were rapidly going to decay.

On reaching the top of a very high hill, the travellers had a near view of the peak, which rose before them like an enormous pointed minaret. They now ascended the dry bed of what was a torrent in the rainy season, and found that a thick jungle and lofty trees threw a wild gloom over their path. The upper part of the peak consists of an immense cone of granite very slightly covered with vegetation. The track over this cone is quite abrupt, and where the pathway leads over a bare rock, bordering some fearful precipice, there are steps cut in the stone, and iron chains so fixed as to lie along the steps, for the purpose of assisting passengers in ascending and descending. When Mr. Marshall and his friend reached the top of the cone, they found that its narrow apex, which was only twenty-three paces long by eighteen broad, was surrounded by a wall, in which there were two distinct openings to admit pilgrims, corresponding with the two tracks, by which alone the mountain could be ascended. The elevation of this apex is 6800 feet above the level of the sea; the granitic peak or cone resting upon a very high mountain, belonging to the chain which forms the rampart of the upper country. Nearly in the centre of the enclosed area they saw a large rock, one side of which is shelving, and can be easily ascended. On the top of this mass, which is of granite, there stands a small square wooden shed, fastened to the rock, as also to the outer walls, by means of heavy chains. This security is necessary to prevent the edifice being hurled from its narrow base by the violence of the winds. The roof and posts of this little building, which is used to cover the Sri Pada, or holy foot-mark, were adorned, when Mr. Marshall saw it, with flowers and artificial figures made of pieces of coloured cloth; the impression of the foot they found to have been made in part by the chisel, and partly by elevating its outer border with mortar; and all the elevations which mark the spaces between the toes of the foot have been made by lime and sand. The impression, which is five and a half feet long, and nearly two feet deep, is encircled by a border of gilded copper, in which are set a few valueless gems. This foot-mark is an object of deep reverence by the pilgrims, some of whom believe it to be that of their god Buddhoo; but the Arabs attribute it to Adam, our first father; and hence the name of the mountain." Mr. Marshall and his friend remained on the peak all night to watch the singular atmospheric effects attendant on the rising of the sun in the morning. "By midnight," he observes, "the clouds had subsided to the lower strata of the atmosphere, and appeared to be all lying on the surface of the earth. The moon shone bright, by which means we had a magnificent view of the upper surface of a dense stratum of white fleecy cloud. It is impossible to convey in words the grandeur of the scene. The surface of the earth was overspread with a covering resembling the finest white down, through which many dark coloured mountains and cliffs projected. Could we conceive a white sea studded over with islands, extremely various in size and figure, a faint idea might be formed of the prospect from the peak during the night. When the sun rose, the shadow of the peak appeared like an immense cone or triangle stretching to the edge of the western horizon, but by degrees the base of the shadow approached the foot of the mountain." The travellers descended the cone by the opposite route, leading to Salfragam, which they found to be still more abrupt than the one by which they had ascended. In several places it led them across bare, slippery, precipitous rocks. There were no steps cut as on the other side of the cone, but in the more difficult and dangerous places there were strong iron chains fastened to the rock, to assist ascent and descent. At two or three places the view downward was grand and awful in the extreme; the cone in these places appearing to hang over the lower mountains, so that the eye glanced perpendicularly below, as though looking down into an immense pit.

MOUNT CAUCASUS.

The Caucasian range of mountains extends from the south-east to the north-west, across the isthmus between the Black and Caspian seas. The length of this mountain chain is estimated at about 650 miles, and the breadth, though it varies considerably, is, on an average, nearly 200 miles. Torrents, precipices, and avalanches, render these mountains almost impassable, except by what are called the gates, which are elevated mountain passes resembling the ghauts of India. The loftiest mountain of the Caucasian range is Mount Elbourz, the summit of which is nearly 18,000 feet above the level of the sea, and the peak of which is covered with snow. This mountain has a very striking appearance, both from the Russian and the Persian sides. "Imagine," says M. Kupfer, "a platform 8,000 or 10,000 feet above the level of the sea, rent in various directions by deep and narrow valleys, and traversed from east to west by a ridge of rugged and picturesque rocks, whose summits are covered with eternal snow; fancy about the middle of this ridge an excavation very broad, but not deep, the centre of which is occupied by a cone, which might be believed to be entirely formed of snow, did not the naked rock which it covers occasionally appear; this is Elbourz, whose height surpasses, by 3000 or 4000 feet, that of all the surrounding mountains."