his nostrils, and Babbalanja vainly trying to walk with closed eyes,
we toiled among steep, flinty rocks, along a wild, zigzag pathway;
like a mule-track in the Andes, not so much onward as upward; Yoomy
above Babbalanja, my lord Media above him, and Braid-Beard, our guide,
in the air, above all.

Strown over with cinders, the vitreous marl seemed tumbled together,
as if belched from a volcano's throat.

Presently, we came to a tall, slender structure, hidden among the
scenic projections of the cliffs, like a monument in the dark, vaulted
ways of an abbey. Surrounding it, were five extinct craters. The air
was sultry and still, as if full of spent thunderbolts.

Like a Hindoo pagoda, this bamboo edifice rose story above story; its
many angles and points decorated with pearl-shells suspended by cords.
But the uppermost story, some ten toises in the air, was closely
thatched from apex to floor; which summit was gained by a series of
ascents.

What eremite dwelleth here, like St. Stylites at the top of his
column?--a question which Mohi seemed all eagerness to have answered.

Dropping upon his knees, he gave a peculiar low call: no response.
Another: all was silent. Marching up to the pagoda, and again dropping
upon his knees, he shook the bamboos till the edifice rocked, and its
pearl-shells jingled, as if a troop of Andalusian mules, with bells
round their necks, were galloping along the defile.

At length the thatch aloft was thrown open, and a head was thrust