Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1856-06-11

/ laSteQ a moment, tnat moment Woulu
have been his last. He clings with a
convulSive shudder, to his little niche in
the rock. An awful abyss awaits his al
most certain fall. He is faint from Sc
we're exertion, and trembling from the
sudden view of the dreadful destruction
to which he is exposed. His knife is
worn half way TO the shaft. He can
hear the voices, but not the cries of his
terrOr-stricken companions below. What
meager chance to escape destruction
There is no retracing his steps. 1t is
impossible 10 put his hands into the same
niche with his feet, and retain his hold
moment. His companions instantly
perceived this new and fearful dilemma,
and await his fall, with emotions that
"freeze their young blood" He is 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 anticipated
his desire. Swift as the wind, he bounds
the channel and the fearful situation is
told upon his fathers hearthstone.
Minutes of almost eternal length roll
on, and there were hundreds standing in
the rocky channel, and hundreds on the
bridge above, all holding their breath,
awaiting that fearful catastrophe. The
poor boy hears the hum of new and nu
merous voices both above and below
He can just distinguish the tones of his
fathers voice, who is shouting with all
the energy of despair: William! -
William! don look down-your mother,
and Henry, and Harriet are all here
praying for you. Keep your eyes on
the top"
The boy didn't look down-his eyes
are fixed like flint toward heaven; and
his young heart on him who reigns there.
He grasps again his knife. He cuts an
other niche added to the hundreds that
removed him from human help below.
how careful Y he uses his wasting blade!
How anxiously he selects the softest
place in that pier! How he avoids every
fiinty grain! How lie ecOnomises his
physical power-resting a moment at
each grain he cuts! How every motion
is watched belowl There stands his
father, mother; and on the very spot
where, if he falls, he will not fall alone.
The sun is half way down in the West.
The lad has made fifty additional inches
in the mighty wall. and now finds him
self directly under the middle of that
vast arch of rocks, earth and trees. He
must cut his way in new direction 10
get over this overhanging mountain.
The inspiration of hope is dying in his
bosom. its vital feeling is fed by the III
creased shouts of hundreds perched upon
the cliffs and trees, and others who stand
with ropes in their hands, on the bridge
above, or with ladders below. Fifty
more grains must he cut before the
longest rope can reach him. His vast
ing blade again strikes into the lime
stone.
The boy is emerging painfully. foot by
foot, from under the lofty arch. Spliced
ropes are ready in the hands of those
who are leaning over the outer edge of
the bridge. Two minutes more and all
will be over. That blade is worn to
the last half inch. The boys head reels;
and his eyes are starting from their SOCK
cts. His last hope is dying in his heart
his lie must hang upon the last grain
he cuts. That niche is his last. AT the
last faint cash he makes, his knife, his
faithful knife, falls from his hand and
ringing along the precipice, falls at his
mothers feet.
An involuntary groan of despair runs
like death knell through the channel
below, and all are as sill as the grave
At the heighth of nearly three hundred
feet the devoted boy lifts his hopeless
prapers and closing eyes 10 commend
his soul to God. IT'S but a moment,
there! One foot swings off-he is reel
ing, trembling-tOppling over into eter-
nifty! Hark! shout falls on his ear from
above! The man who is lying with
half his length over the bridge, has a
glimpse Of the boys head and shoulders.
Quick as thought, the noosed rope is
is within reach of the sinking youth
No one breathes. With faint convul
sive effort, the swoooning boy drops his
arm into the moose. Darkness came
over him with the words; God! Mother.
whispered on his lips, just loud enough
to be heard in heaven, the tightening
rope lifts him out of his last niche. Not
a lip moves while he is dangling over
the fearful abyss; but when a sturdy
Virginian reaches down, and draws the
lad up, and holds him in his arms before
the fearful, breathless multitude, such
leaping and weeping for Joy, never greet |
ed the ear of human being so recovered
from the yawning gulf of eternity.