I felt as if I had fallen Sindbad-like, into
a valley undiscovered by man; and, like Sindbad's valley, this
sparkled to my dazzled eyes with countless gems. Not all cold, white
diamonds, like his, but gems of every colour. The rocks through which
our path was cut, glowed with rainbow hues, like different precious
metals blended. This effect struck me at first (in the brilliant
sunshine which alone kept me from being nipped with cold) as puzzling,
but in a moment I had solved the "jewel mystery" of the mountains. The
rocks were of porphyry, and marble, and granite, spangled with mica;
and over all spread in patches a lichen of rose, and green, and
yellow, like chipped rubies and emeralds among gold-filings.
So wild and splendid was the scene, composed and painted by a peerless
Master, that I slackened my pace, reluctant to leave so much splendour
behind; but despite all delaying, we came after a time down to
tree-level. The landscape changed; the diamond spray of miniature
cataracts dashed over high cliffs, among balsamic pine forests; the
sunshine brought out the intense green of moss and fern. We met
porters struggling up the height with luggage on their backs, and fat
women riding depressed mules. It was very mediaeval, and I had the
sensation of having walked into a picture--round the corner of it,
into the best part which you know must be there, though it can't be
seen by outsiders.
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