Passing through a gloomy ravine, Mr. Hunt’s curiosity is aroused by a sound of fiendish revelry.

Following the direction of the noise he comes into that region which, according to his guide book, is occupied by the “fools of success.”

Here he finds the man who climbed up in the world and then forgot his friends.

“As a cat clings to a tree trunk,” says the poet, “while dogs dance ’round with laughing tongues,” so this malefactor hangs high up a spike-covered pole, while “fiends make merry at his sorry plight.”

Keeping well out of view the explorer continues his travels.