I now found myself on the projecture of a rock. Above and below, the
hill-side was nearly perpendicular. Opposite, and at the distance of
fifteen or twenty yards, was a similar ascent. At the bottom was a glen,
cold, narrow, and obscure. This projecture, which served as a kind of
vestibule to the cave, was connected with a ledge, by which, though not
without peril and toil, I was conducted to the summit.

This summit was higher than any of those which were interposed between
itself and the river. A large part of this chaos of rocks and precipices
was subjected, at one view, to the eye. The fertile lawns and vales
which lay beyond this, the winding course of the river, and the slopes
which rose on its farther side, were parts of this extensive scene.
These objects were at any time fitted to inspire rapture. Now my delight
was enhanced by the contrast which this lightsome and serene element
bore to the glooms from which I had lately emerged. My station, also,
was higher, and the limits of my view, consequently, more ample than any
which I had hitherto enjoyed.

I advanced to the outer verge of the hill, which I found to overlook a
steep no less inaccessible, and a glen equally profound. I changed
frequently my station in order to diversify the scenery. At length it
became necessary to inquire by what means I should return. I traversed
the edge of the hill, but on every side it was equally steep and always
too lofty to permit me to leap from it. As I kept along the verge, I
perceived that it tended in a circular direction, and brought me back,
at last, to the spot from which I had set out. From this inspection, it
seemed as if return was impossible by any other way than that through
the cavern.

I now turned my attention to the interior space. If you imagine a