Washington sentinel. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1853-1855, 1853-12-30

bore us among the wild defles and dizzy cliffs
Of the mountains, higher and higher we rose,
at the average of hundred and sixteen feet
grade to the mile, until our wearied courser
was obliged to call aid to accomplish the further
ascent. AT O notch in the mountain tremen-
dous locomotive, styled the "Camel, rushed to
our assistance, and fairly lifting us from the
ground, carried US along at rate which seem
ed to challenge the lightning playing among
the distant peaks. Now we rushed through
tunnel, now tottered on the brink of ravine,
now flew across an apparently frail bridge over
some yawning chasm. In crossing the noun
tains we passed through fourteen tunnels, the
mostTemarkable of which is five thousand feet
long. All at once we lost sight of the wild
scenery around us, then the daylight totally
disappeared, and the lurid blaze of lamps shone
on the damp rocky walls which environed us.
So low down in the earth were we, that the
thunder rolling above our heads, leaping from
cloud to cloud, echoed from crag to crag, if
heard at all, was lost in the low rumble Of the
train.
/ One of the most fightful bridges crossed
spans frightfnl gap in the Alleghanies. To
gaze upon it, it seemed but a frail network of
iron, bound with ropes and pins, tit being still
unfinished stretching across chasm eight
hundred feet wide, at the distance of one hun
dred and ninety feet from the rocks below. As
we steadily gazed on it the few moments it
could be discerned, it seemed a mere spiders
web linked to the ribbon-like rails, which ex-
tended from height to height. A moment
more, and the peculiar echo of the car wheels
told us we were tempting its strength A shud-
der for a moment passed over us as we shrank
back; then, as we felt no jarring, no swaying
Of the pillars which supported us, we found cou-
rage to lean out of the windows and gaze
down eight hundred feet, upon the waving
tree tops and confused mass Of rocks below,
with nought to interrupt our view, not even
to fancy ourselves gliding through the air, and
very difficult to appreciate the reality of safe
bridge below us.
During the storm, we saw, at great dis
tance, a funeral train winding up one of the
mountain paths. If you have read Madame
De Stael's Corinne," you may remember the
sombre thoughts of Oswald, when on his return
to Italy, while crossing the frozen Alps, SINH
lar cortege, attended by blackrobed priests,
suddenly appeared. With him it was the pre-
sage of grief and sorrow and so, recalling his
emotions, this scene so similar among the wild
paths of our Alps, inspired sorrowful thoughts
Of death and tombs How recklessly we live;
how lightly do we meet and part with those we
love, as though the grave were but an idle
fancy, forgetting that life hangs but on a
"silken cord!' As Igazed with painful memo
ries upon that sad procession, and thought Of
the pangs which must yet be mine when mex
orable death will claim my dearest friends, nor
stay one little hour for all my tears and prayers,
my heart echoed the inquiry Of the poet:
Tell me, ye winged winds,
That round my pathway roar
| Do ye not know some spot
Where mortals weep no more9
Some lone and pleasant dell,
| Some valley in the west,
| Where, free from toll and care,
| The weary soul may rest 7"
And MS winds and waves have sighed from the
fall Of our first parents until now, their answer
still was "No." But we are not all perishable.
No-for when the pulse is still and the heart
ceases to beat, then shall our disembodied
spirits soar upward, to roam among the stars,
to join in the eternal anthem of the angels, to
live forever in the presence of our God. VIII
not this life then seem to us but a weary night
Of watching for the morning, or at best sleep?