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mountains was riven, and the enemanding reels bowing in terror, reeled like ships upon a tossing ocean and the roar of a thousand storms roiled away from the yawning. gulf, into which precipices and forests went down with the deafening crash of a falling world. А huge mass that then had been loosened from its high bed, and hurled below, making a cliff of itself, from which to fall would have been certain death, our guide called the “Church,”—and it did lift itself there like a huge altar, right in front of the main precipice that rose in a naked wall more than a thousand feet* perpendicular. It is two thousand feet from the summit to the base, but part of the chasm has been filled with its own ruins, so that the spot on which you stand is a thousand feet above the valley below, and nearly three thousand above tide water. Thus it stretches for three-quarters of a mile-sin no place less than five hundred feet perpendicular. By dint of scrambling and pulling each other up, we at last succeeded in reaching the top of the church, while from our very feet rose this awful cliff that really oppressed me with its near and frightful presence. Majestic, solemn and silent, with the daylight from above pouring all over its dread form, it stood the impersonation of strength and grandeur.
* Some say a thousand, others twelve hundred.
I never saw but one precipice that impressed me so, and that was in the Alps, in the Pass of the Grand Scheideck. I lay on my back filled with strange feelings of the power and grandeur of the God who had both framed and rent this mountain asunder. There it stood still and motionless in its majesty Far, far away heavenward rose its top, fringed with fir trees, that looked, at that immense height, like mere shrubs ; and they, too, did not wave, but stood silent and moveless as the rock they crowned. Any motion or life would have been a relief-even the tramp of the storm ; for there was something fearful in that mysterious, profound silence.
How loudly God speaks to the heart, when it lies thus awe-struck and subdued in the presence of His works. In the shadow of such a grand and terrible form, man seems but the plaything of a moment, to be blown away with the first breath. Persons not accustomed to scenes of this kind, would not at first get an adequate impression of the magnitude of the precipice. Everything is on such a gigantic scale--all the proportions so vast, and the mountains so high about it, that the
real individual greatness is lost sight of. But that wall of a thousand feet perpendicular, with its seams and rents and stooping cliifs, is one of the few things in the world the beholder can never forget. It frowns yet on my vision in my solitary hours; and with feelings half of sympathy, half of terror, I think of it rising there in its lonely greatness.
“ Has not the soul, the being of your life,
The whispering air
I will only add, that none of the drawings or paintings I have seen of this pass, give so correct an idea of it, as the one accompanying this description. We turned our steps homeward, and after having chased a deer into the lake in vain, reached the Adirondack Iron Works at noon. We had traveled twelve miles, a part of the way on our hands and knees.
I had received a fall in the pass which stunned me dreadfully, and made every step like driving a nail into my brain. Losing my footing, I had fallen backwards, and gone down head foremost among the rocks -a single foot either side, and I should have been precipitated into a gulf of broken rocks, from which nothing of myself but a mangled mass would ever have been taken. Stunned and helpless, I was borne by my friends to a rill, the cool water of which revived me
HUNTER CHENEY- ENCOUNTERS WITH A PANTHER
DEADLY STRUGGLE WITH A WOLF-A BEAR AND MOOSE
BACKWOODS, July 12
You know one expects to hear of hunting achievements upon our western frontier, where the sounds of civilization have not yet frightened away the wild beasts that haunt the forest. But here in the heart of the Empire State is a
State is a man whose fame is known far and wide as the “mighty hunter," and if desperate adventures and hair-breadth escapes give one a claim to the sobriquet, it certainly belongs to him. Some ten or fifteen years ago, Cheney, then a young man, becoming enamored of forest life left Ticonderoga, and with his rifle on his shoulder, plunged into this then unknown, untrodden wilderness. Here he lived for years on what his gun