The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1844-08-29
Milton.
NJ G E L L A N Y.
From the Christian Citizen.
The Natural Bridge.
Or ONE NICHE THE HIGHEST,

The scene opens with a view of the
great natural Bridge in Virginia. There
are three or four lads standing in the
channel below, looking up with to
that vast arch Of uuhewn rocks, which
the Almighty bridged over those everlast.
ing butments "when the morning stars
sing together" The little piece of sky
spanning those measureless piers, is full
o~fstars, although it is midday. 1t is
almost five hundred feet from where they
stand, up those perpendicular bulwarks of
limestone, to the key rock Of that vast
arch, which appears to them only of The
size Of a mans hand. The silence O.!
death is rendered more impressive by the
little stream that falls from rock to rock
down the channel. The sun is darkened
and the boys have unconsciously uncover
ed their heads. as if standing in the pres
ence chamber Of the Majesty of the whole
earth. AT last, this feeling begins to wear
away they begin to look around them
they find that others have been there be.
fore them. They see the names of hun.
dreds cut in the limestone butments, A
new feeling comes over their young hearts
and their knives were in their hands in
an instant. "Wha man has done, man
can d." is their wa:chword, while they
draw themselves up and carve their names
a foot above those of a hundred full
grown men who have been there before
them.
They are all satisfied at this feat of
physical exert:on, except one, whose ex-
ample illustrates perfectly the forgotten
truth, that there is no royal road TO In
teLectuoL eminence. This ambitious
youth sees a name just above his reach,
a name that will be green in the memo.
ry Of the world, when those of Alexander,
Cesar, and Bonapart shall rot in oblivion.
1t was the name of Washington. Before
he marched with Braddock 10 that fatal
field, he had been there, and left his name
a foot above all his predecessors. 1t was
a glorious thought of the boy,to write his
name side by side with that OF the great
father of his country. He grasps his
knife with a frmer hand and, clinging
10 a little jutting crag, he cuts again into
the limestone, about a foot above where he
stands, he then reaches up and cuts an
other for his hands. IT'S a dangerous ad-
venture !; but as he puts his feet and hands
into those gains, and draws himself up
carefully to his full length, he finds him.
self a foot above every name ~chronicIed
in that mighty wall. While his COM
panions are regarding him with much
concern and admiration, he cuts his name
ia rude capitals, large and deep, into that
f!nty album. His knife Is still in his
hand, and strength in his sinews, and a
new created aspiration in his heart. A.
gain he cuts another niche, and again
he carves his name in large capitals
This is not enough. Needless of the en-.
treaties of his companions, ne cuts and
climbs again. The graduation OF his as
cending scale grow wider apart. He
measures his length at every gain he
cuts. The voices of his friends wax wea.
ker and weaker, till their words are final
ly lost on his ear. He now for the first
time cast a look beneath him, Had that
glauce lasted a moment, that moment
would have been his last, He clings
with a convulsive shudGer 10 his little
niche in the rock. An awful abyss awaits
his almost certain fall. He is faint with
severe exertion, and trembling from the
sudden view of The dreadful destruction 10
which he is exposed, His knife is worn
half way to the half. He can hear the
voices, but mol the words, Of his terror
stricken companions below. What a mo-
ment! What a meagre chance 10 escape
There Is no retracing his