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PONTE ALTO.

PONTE ALTO.

THE traveller has scarcely quitted the gallery of Algaby,when the valley of Gondo assumes the terrible character thatbelongs to it. The mountains display additional magnificence,advancing and receding at every step: the interval betweenthem is occupied by the road and the torrent. Little or no vege-tation is visible on any side. The general barrenness, the frag-ments scattered in all directions, and the roar of the waters whichboil over their rocky bed, contribute to excite fearful emotions.The lofty rocks seem to unite in some places at the top, and theheavens are scarcely visible through the aperture at the heightof 2,000 feet. The road, excavated like a ledge out of thegranite, appears as if hanging on the side of a precipice, at thebottom of which is heard the distant murmur of the Doveria.Man has overleaped this fearful abyss, and has thrown across ita bridge at once elegant and solid.

As the traveller approaches this remarkable passage, lie isdeafened by the noise of the torrent. Leaning over the parapet,he involuntarily casts his eyes down to the bottom of the preci-pice, where they are fixed as by a sort of charm. He contem-plates the water below, which dashes with fury against the rocksthat impede its progress: it bounds over them with impetuosity,and again meeting with the same obstructions,^surmounts themby the same means. This constant and rapid motion, and theroar of the cascade, render the scene extremely striking: but whilethe sight of the objects rivets the spectator in dumb attention,the skill of the artist can afford but a comparatively cold and life-less representation.

From the abyss rises a whitish vapour, which ascends in light