At this spot the rocks form a wide and massive arch, on which the tall pines and other trees stand firmly rooted. Beneath this arch, rude blocks are tumbled one upon another in wild confusion, through which the water of the upper fall forces its way to the lower one. Above the arch which nature has thus formed, a slight wooden bridge is built, so that two openings are thus formed, the one above the other, through which the water is seen descending in a broad sheet of foam. Standing at the foot of this cascade, it is first seen gushing forth from the rock amongst the trees immediately above the wooden bridge; between this and the natural arch it again appears, and is for the third time seen below the arch, closing the opening between it and the rocks beneath like a white curtain. The rainbow was seen beautifully shadowing the spray wafted from the fall, which was itself in a dark recess of the mountain, and the sun tipped the tops of the surrounding trees with a brilliant light, whilst now and then a single ray shot through the leaves and fell upon the white fall. It was a scene before which a painter might have sat for hours.
We afterwards went upon the bridge, from whence we had a view of the whole fall, looking down into the basin which receives it. A little footpath leads from the bridge to the spot where the water issues as clear as crystal from the rock, in the same manner as that of the Savitza in Wochain. After taking one or two rapid sketches, I returned with my little guide to Golling, which Sir Humphry soon after left for Werfen, and we turned into the mountains, passing through a magnificent defile where the Salza is quite hemmed in by rocks, through which this foaming river forces its way with irresistible violence.
The Salza in its whole course is a muddy river, which considerably detracts from the beauty of the scene. Towards evening we arrived at Werfen, a small insignificant town with an ancient fort on the hill above it, and passed the night at a tolerable inn.
_14th._ Rising early this morning and looking from my window before sunrise, I beheld one of the finest scenes imaginable. The distant snowy Watzmann appeared quite near, and was encircled by beautiful rose-coloured clouds, though not so dense as to hide the mountain which glimmered through them, tinged with the same beautiful hue. These clouds, which kept ascending and descending, and now and then breaking and leaving the mountain quite clear, became gradually fainter and fainter, till the sun rose, bringing with him the mists of morning, when the whole scene vanished from my eyes, and this so quickly, that I was almost tempted to fancy it a dream.