We get a good
notion of the Jura in its sterner and more arid aspect during this
zig-zag drive, first mounting, then descending. Far away, the brown bare
mountain ridges rise against the clear heavens, whilst just below we see
steep wooded crags dipping into a gorge where the little river Bienne
curls on its impetuous way. There are no less than three parallel roads
at different levels from Morez to St. Claude, and curious it was from
our airy height--we had chosen the highest--to survey the others, the
one cut along the mountain flank midway, the other winding deep down
close to the river-side. These splendid roads are kept in order by the
Communes, which are often rich in this Department, possessing large
tracts of forest. I never anywhere saw roads so magnificently kept, and,
of course, this acids greatly to the comfort of travellers. Were the
roads bad, indeed, what would become of them?
After climbing for an hour we suddenly begin to descend, our road
sweeping round the mountain sides with tremendous curves for about two
hours or more, when all of a sudden we seemed to swoop down upon St.
Claude, the little bishopric in the heart of the mountains. The effect
was magical. We appeared to have been plunged from the top of the world
to the bottom! In fact, you go up and down such tremendous heights in
the Jura that I should think it must be much like travelling in a
balloon.
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