THE village of Adersbach, in Bohemia, situated in a valley, at the foot of the Giant Mountains, at the extreme confines of Silesia, is cele brated for the extraordinary groups of rock which rise in its environs, and extend, though with frequent interruptions, as far as Heuscheuer. The village borders on a most beautiful mead, watered by a small rivulet, which has its source in the midst of this rocky labyrinth. It is bounded on the south by large masses of rock which stand upright, contiguous to each other, and separated only by crevices of different widths. The greater number of them are one hundred feet high or upwards, and present forms which are singularly diversified. Some of them resemble works of art, as columns, walls, towers; some are bounded at the top by irregular curve lines, though their sides are as perpendicular as if they had been cut by a level. Others are bent in all directions, and their craggy summits, which hang in the air, threaten to descend every moment from their perilous abode. Some of them stand upon an immense base, and diminish as they rise, while others retain the same uniform dimensions from their bases to their summits. The bases of many of them are rounded by the action of the waters. The most remarkable of these rocks is that commonly called the inverted sugar loaf, an appellation which sufficiently designates its singular form; and many isolated pillars which, though only a few feet in diameter at the base, elevate themselves amid their compeers, like a range of chimnies.

The moment we enter this labyrinth, we perceive on all sides groups of rock, which surprize us the more, because we are not in a situation to examine their height and extent. They encircle a beautiful mead, which may be considered the vestibule of the labyrinth.

An old honest forester generally serves as guide to those, whose curiosity leads them to explore this romantic labyrinth. They follow a path which is covered, in many places, with sand and rubbish form ed from fragments of the rock. This

path, which is sometimes twenty feet wide, and sometimes not more than two, continues its course through innumerable windings between the perpendicular groups, and those masses which, like walls, enclose them on the right and left. A person is frequently obliged to crawl across the intervals, above which the rocks lean one against the other. The imagination of the old conductor has discovered in the most irregular masses resemblances to a palace, a church, a monastery, a pulpit, and an infinity of other objects. By this happy discovery, he hopes to render them more worthy the observation of the curious.

In this labyrinth, a person is obliged to go continually zigzag, one time he walks on the naked sand, at another on the moss and flowery turf: at one time he passes under low saplings, at another, he pursues the course of little rivulets, whose smooth and limpid waters follow the multiplied sinuosities of their course. These little streams are, in many places, provided with little bridges, or crossed by planks, for the convenience of those who explore this little mysterious world. After journeying about a league and a half, the traveller arrives at a place, extremely cool and agreeable, ornamented with saplings, hung with all sorts of mosses and plants, and closed up, on all sides, by tremendous rocks. The loud murmuring of a rivulet, which precipitates from a sort of basin, adds an inexpressible charm to the delights of this solitude. Underneath two lofty saplings, near a fountain as cool and transparent as imagination can conceive, stands a table, a bench, and some seats formed out of the rock. This place is frequently rendered the scene of festive happiness; and is frequently greeted by morning visitants who come to breakfast there. The repast is rendered delicious by the agreeable coolness of the place, which invigorates the animal faculties in a surprising manner.

From this resting-place there is an ascent by a narrow opening. The way is difficult, as it leads over heaps of sand, produced by the wrecks continually falling from the rocks,

and which are as friable as the ashes near the crater of a volcano, for at every step the traveller loses

half to the north of the little town of Reinerz. In approaching the delightful

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when he arrives at the top, he is more than recompensed by the sight of a cascade which precipitates from the summit of the rocks. The water falls, in its first descent, from a height of twenty feet, on a rock which impedes its perpendicular course, glides afterwards down a gentle descent, and completes its course by flinging itself into the lower basin. Near this stream the rocks have formed a dark and lofty vault, which presents a most majestic and terrible aspect.

It is a work of many days to traverse all the different paths which cross this labyrinth, but next to the natural beauties which we have already described, is an ancient castle in ruins, situated in the midst of those masses of rock, and which, in all probability, served as an asylum for robbers. The guide, before he takes leave of his company, generally fires a pistol near the narrow opening by which it is entered. The sound, which is reverberated and encreased by the distant echoes, resembles the rumbling sound of thunder. The learned are generally agreed as to the origin of the singular forms of these rocks. They imagine that the whole space which they cover was formerly a mountain of sand, and that a violent irruption of water, forcing a passage through the parts which were less compact, carried them away, and left, consequently, deep spaces between the solid masses. Such is the general opinion, but it is still doubtful whether the effect, has proceeded from a sudden irruption, and whether it may not be more naturally traced to that slow but unremitting action of nature, which metamorphoses every thing after a certain lapse of time, though its immediate agency excites no attention.

The mountain known by the name of Heuscheuer, or Heuschaar, forming the southern extremity of this chain, is in Silesia, in the county of Glatz, about two miles and a half north-east of the town of this name, and a mile and

opens at its feet. It is difficult to reach it on this side, though considerable efforts were t made in 1763, to facilitate the access. The traveller passes constantly over ledges of rocks which are detached and laid one over another, in all directions. Some of them are as large as houses, others equal churches in magnitude, nor can imagination give its creations a greater diversity of form than these rocks present. The greater part of the rocks are naked, but at a considerable height we meet a space which has been called the garden, and which contains trees and plants of various kinds. The rocks lift themselves all around, piled one over another. On the summit of Tafelstein, which is one of the most elevated, there is a most interesting and romantic prospect.

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The rock on which it is fixed is cut perpendicular, like a wall at a depth of many hundred feet, and extends through various windings along the frontiers of Bohemia. A balustrade has been erected there, in consequence of its being honoured with a visit by the Prince of Prussia. This balustrade leads to the very extremity of the rock, where the spectator may contemplate with security the delightful prospect which opens before him, in all directions. Under his feet he beholds the lofty mountains extending south and west, and presenting summits which are sometimes rounded, and sometimes terminated in a point. The extensive prospect carries the eye of the spectator over the distant Braunau,t Nachod, and a great number of other places in Bohemia, immortalized by the annals of the thirty, and of the 'seven years' war. The traveller has some difficulty however, in believing that he has Bohemia actually before him, for at this immense height the mountains, which separate the towns, castles, villages, and convents, disappear from the sight, so that he imagines he perceives nothing but a level and extensive plain.