. Wayfaring in France, from Auvergne to the Bay of Biscay. reen valleys or dense woods filling the hollows,the southern horizon being closed by the wavy blueline of the Cantal mountains. To the north-eastthe sky-line was marked by the Mont-Dore range,with the highest peak of Auvergne, the Puy deSancy, clearly visible against the lighter blue of thecloudless air. The feeling that prevailed throughoutthis wide expanse of country was solemn sternness. I returned to Bort, and as there were still abouttwo hours of light left, I crossed the river and wentin search of the cascades, two or three miles
. Wayfaring in France, from Auvergne to the Bay of Biscay. reen valleys or dense woods filling the hollows,the southern horizon being closed by the wavy blueline of the Cantal mountains. To the north-eastthe sky-line was marked by the Mont-Dore range,with the highest peak of Auvergne, the Puy deSancy, clearly visible against the lighter blue of thecloudless air. The feeling that prevailed throughoutthis wide expanse of country was solemn sternness. I returned to Bort, and as there were still abouttwo hours of light left, I crossed the river and wentin search of the cascades, two or three miles fromthe town, formed by the Rue in its wild impatienceto meet the Dordogne. When I was skirting thebuckwheat fields of the valley in the calm opencountry, there was a sweet and tender glow of 26 BY THE UPPER DORDOGNE evening sunshine upon the purple-tinted sheavesstanding1 with their heads together. The Titan-strewn rocks felt it likewise with all their heatherand broom. There was no husbandman in theplain, no song of the solitary goat-girl, no creak of. Tin-: Valley of the Rue. the plough, no twitter even of a bird. It was notyet the hour when Virgil says every field is silent,but the repose of nature had commenced. The dusk was falling when I reached a silk-millby the side of the Rue, and passed up the deepgorge full of shadows, led by the sound of roaring WATER AT EVENING 27 waters. A narrow path winding under high rocksof porphyritic gneiss brought me to the cascadecalled the Saut de la Saule, where the river, dividedinto two branches by a vast block, leaps fifteen ortwenty feet into a deep basin to whirl and boil withfury, then dashes onward down the stony channel,to leap again into the air and fall into another reached a rock in the channel by means of a treethat had been laid between it and the bank, andstood in the midst of the seething, broken torrent,from which arose that saddening odour which waterin wild commotion gives forth when daylight isdying and the d
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookpublisherlondo, bookyear1913
