The Evansville daily journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ia. [i.e. Ind.]) 1848-1862, 1855-10-13
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LIFE Or DEATH.
A True Story Of the Natural Bridge in Virginia
1BY ELtHU bURR1T.a '9g-I'af ;


s'ses3 -'lt By ELtHU BURRIT - SeA.'+ z
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The scene opens with a. view ofthe great
Natural Bridge in Virginia There are three
or four lads standing in the channal below,
looking sp with awe to the vast arch Of unhewn
rocks, with the almighty bridge over these
Everlasting abutments, when the morning stars
sang together, The little piece Of sky spann-
ling those measureless piers, is full of stars,
although it is midday It is almost five
hundred feet from where they stand, up those
perpendicular bulwarksf of limestone; to the
key rock of the vast arch, which appear to them
|onIy the size of mans hand. The silence of
death is rendered more impressive by the little
stream that falls from rock to rock down the
channel. The sun is dsrkened, and the boys
have ,unconsciously uncovered their heads as
if standing in. the presence chamber of the
Majesty of the whole earth At last this feel
ing begins to wear away; they begin to look
around them.5n They see the names ofhundreds
cut the Limestone abutments. GA new feel,
ing comes over their hearts, and their knives
are in hand in an instant. "What man has
done man can do,'' is the watchword, while
they yadraws themselves up laand carve their
names a foot above those Of a hundred full
grown men who had been there before them.
They are satisfied with this feat ofphysical
lexertioh, except one, whose example illustrates
perfectly the efofgotten truth, that there is no.
royal. road to intellectual eminence. This
ambitious youth sees "a name just above his
reach, name that shall be green in the memory
Of the world, when those Of Alexander, Caesar,
and Bonapartes shall rot in oblivion. Itwas
the name Of Washington Before he marched
with .Braddock to the fatal field, he had been
there and left his name foot above all his
predecessors 1t was a glorious thought Of a
boy to write his name side by side with that
Iof the great father, of his country. sqHe grasps
his knife with a firm hand--and clnging to a
little jutting crag he cuts into the limestone,
labout a foot above where he stands; but as he
puts his feetand hands into those gains, and
draws himself carefully to his full length. he
finds hitnselfa foot above every name chIoni-
lcled in that mighty wall. While his companions
are regarding him with concern and admiration,
he cuts his name in huge capitals, large and
deep into that finty album his knife is still
lin his. hand and strength in his sinews, and
a new created aspiration in his heart.
Again he cuts another niche, and again he
Icarvcs his name in large capitals. This is not
enough. Needless of the. entreaties of his
Icoinpanions, he cuts and climbs again. The
graduations of his ascending scale growswider
apart He measures his length at every gain
he cuts. The, voices of his friends, grow weaker
Iand weaker, till their words are finally lost on
his ear He now, for the first time, cast a look
beneath him. Had that glance lasted a mo-
ment, that moment would have been his last
He clngs with convulsive shudder to his little
niche in the rock. An awful abyss awaits his
|almost tcertain fall. He is faint with severe
exertions, and trembling from thesudden view
of the dreadful destruction to which he is
exposed. His knife is worn half way 10 the
|haft lie can hear the voices but not the
words Of his terror stricken companions below.
What moment. What meagre chance to
escape destrution.i There is no retracing his
steps 1t is impossible to put his hands into
the same niche with his feet, and retain his
hold moment. His companions instantly
perceive this new and fearful dilemma, and
await his fall with emotions that 'freeze their
young blood''a Hevsis too high, too faint to
ask for his father and mother his brothers
and sisters, to come and witness or avert his
destruction. But one of his companions antici-
pate his desire Swift as the wind he bounds
down the channel and the fatal situation is
told upon his fathers hearth-stone. s7sds
Minutes Of almost eternal length roll on and
there were hundreds standing in that rocky
channel, and hundreds on the ridge above all
holding their breath and awaiting that fearful
catastrophe The poor boy hears the hum
of new and numerous voices, both above and
below. He can just distinguish the tones of
his fathers voice, who is shouting with all the
energy of despair: 'Williamt 'William Don't
Hook down. Your mother and Henry, and
Harriet, are all here praying for you. Don't
look down. Keep your eyes toward the top,
The boy din't look down.-his eyes are fixed
like a flint toward heaven, and hisyoung heart
on him who regns there. He grasps again his
knife He cuts another niche, and another
foot is added to the hundreds that remove him
from human help from below How carefully
he uses his wasting blade! How anxiouslys he
selects the softest place in, that pier!
How he avoids every finty grain! How he
economises his physical powers-restlng mo-
moment at each, again he cuts. How every
motion is watched from below. There stands
Il his father, mother, brother, and sister, on the
very spot where, if he falls, he will not fall
lalone. -
Thesun is half way down the West. The
lad had made fifty additional inches in the
i'm ghtv wall. and now finds himself directly
under the middle of that vast arch of rocks
Iearth and trees. He mustcut his way in q
lnew direction to get over. this overhangine
mountain. The inspiration. of hope is dying
lin his bosom; its vital heat is fed by the increas
led shouts Of hundreds perched upon cliffs and
ttrees, and others who stand with ropes in theii
::lhands on the bridge above or with the, ladders
below, Fifty gains more must be cut before the
longest rope can reach him. His wasting blade
: again strikes into the limestone.
i The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot
under the lofty arch. Spliced ropes are ready
lin the hands of those who are leaning over. the
outer edge of the bridge. Two. minutes more
land all will be over That blade is worn the
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