The
grottoes and stalactite caverns of this _combe_ are curious alike within
and without, and in their inmost recesses is a small lake, the depth of
which has never yet been sounded. Both lake and stalactite caves,
however, can only be seen at certain seasons of the year, and then with
difficulty.
The tiny river issuing from the cleft is called the Seille, and very
lovely is the deep, narrow valley of emerald green through which it
murmurs so musically. The mountain gorge opens by little and little as
we proceed, showing velvety pastures where little herdsmen and
herdswomen are keeping their cows; goats, black and white, browse on the
steep rocks as securely as flies on a ceiling, and abundance of trees
grow by the road-side. The valley winds for half a mile to the
straggling village of Baume, and there the stupendous natural
fortifications of cliff and rock come to an end. Nothing finer in the
way of scenery is to be found throughout the Jura than this, and it is
quite peculiar, being unlike any other mountain conformation I have ever
seen, whilst the narrow winding valley of soft gold-green is in
beautiful contrast with the rugged grandeur, not to say savageness, of
its environment.
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