When we began that ascent, we could see a microscopic chalet perched
away up against heaven on what seemed to be the highest mountain near
us. It was on our right, across the narrow head of the valley. But when
we got up abreast it on its own level, mountains were towering high
above on every hand, and we saw that its altitude was just about that of
the little Gasternthal which we had visited the evening before. Still it
seemed a long way up in the air, in that waste and lonely wilderness of
rocks. It had an unfenced grass-plot in front of it which seemed about
as big as a billiard table, and this grass plot slanted so sharply
downwards, and was so brief, and ended so exceedingly soon at the verge
of the absolute precipice, that it was a shuddery thing to think of a
person’s venturing to trust his foot on an incline so situated at all.
Suppose a man stepped on an orange peel in that yard; there would be
nothing for him to seize; nothing could keep him from rolling; five
revolutions would bring him to the edge, and over he would go. What a
frightful distance he would fall!—for there are very few birds that fly
as high as his starting-point. He would strike and bounce, two or three
times, on his way down, but this would be no advantage to him. I would
as soon take an airing on the slant of a rainbow as in such a front
yard. I would rather, in fact, for the distance down would be about the
same, and it is pleasanter to slide than to bounce.