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continual and short windings , which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the mountain . It is a scene terrifically desolate . In a thousand spots the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived , where trees lie broken and strewed on the ground , some entirely destroyed , others bent , leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain or transversely upon other trees . The path , as you ascend higher , is intersected by ravines of snow , down which stones continually roll from above ; one of them is particularly dangerous , as the slightest sound , such as even speaking in a loud voice , produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw destruction upon the head of the speaker . The pines are not tall or luxuriant , but they are sombre and add an air of severity to the scene . I looked on the valley beneath ; vast mists were rising from the rivers which ran through it and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite mountains , whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds , while rain poured from the dark sky and added to the melancholy impression I received from the objects around me . Alas ! Why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute ; it only renders them more necessary beings . If our impulses were confined to hunger , thirst , and desire , we might be nearly free ; but now we are moved by every wind that blows and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us .
We rest ; a dream has power to poison sleep . We rise ; one wand ’ ring thought pollutes the day . We feel , conceive , or reason ; laugh or weep , Embrace fond woe , or cast our cares away ; It is the same : for , be it joy or sorrow , The path of its departure still is free . Man ’ s yesterday may ne ’ er be like his morrow ; Nought may endure but mutability ! It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent .
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