and most characteristic in the Belgian Ardennes. The walk up the
stream from Dinant to Houyet, where the valley of the Lesse
becomes more open and less striking, is mostly made by footpath;
and the pellucid river is crossed, and recrossed, and crossed
again, by a constant succession of ferries. Sometimes the white
cliff rises directly from the water, sheer and majestic, like that
which is crowned by the romantic Chateau Walzin; sometimes it is
more broken, and rises amidst trees from a broad plinth of emerald
meadow that is interposed between its base and the windings of the
river. Sometimes we thread the exact margin of the stream, or
traverse in the open a scrap of level pasture; sometimes we
clamber steeply by a stony path along the sides of an abrupt and
densely wooded hillside, where the thicket is yellow in spring
with Anemone Ranunculoides, or starred with green Herb Paris. This
is the kind of glen scenery that is found along the courses of the
Semois, Lesse, and Ourthe, recalling, with obvious differences,
that of Monsal Dale or Dovedale, but always, perhaps, without that
subtle note of wildness that robes even the mild splendours of
Derbyshire with a suggestion of mountain dignity. The Ardennes, in
short--and this is their scenic weakness--never attain to the
proper mountain spirit. There is a further point, however, in
which they also recall Derbyshire, but in which they are far
preeminent. This is the vast agglomeration of caves and vertical
potholes--like those in Craven, but here called etonnoirs--that
riddle the rolling wolds in all directions. Chief among these is
the mammoth cave of Han, the mere perambulation of which is said
to occupy more than two hours. I have never penetrated myself into
its sombre and dank recesses, but something may be realized of its
character and scale merely by visiting its gaping mouth at Eprave.
This is the exit of the Lesse, which, higher up the vale, at the