West Virginia argus. [volume] (Kingwood, W. Va.) 1877-1946, 1878-01-05
CARVING HIS NAME.
BY ELIHU BURRITT.

The scene opens with view OF the
great natural bridge in Virginia. There
are three or four lads standing in the
channel below, looking up 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 span
ming those measureless piers is full of
stars, although it is midday. 1t is al
most five hundred feet from where they
stand, up those perpendicular bulwarks
of limestone, to the kcy.rock of the
vast arch, which appears to them only
the size of a 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
darkened, and the boys have uncon.
sciously uncovered their heads, as If
standing in the presence chamber of the
Majesty of the whole earth. At last
this feeling begins To wear away they
begin TO look around them. They see
the names of hundreds cut in the lime
stone abutments. n new feeling comes
over their hearts and their knives are in
hand in an instant. What man has
done man can do" is their watchword,
while they draw themselves up and
carve their names a foot above those Of
hundred full-grown men who had been
there before them.
They are all satisfied with this feat of
physical exertion except one, whose ex-
ample illustrates perfectly the forgot
ten truth that there is no royal road to
intellectual cminence. This ambitious
youth sees q name just above his reach
"a name that will be green in the
memory of the world when those of
Alexander, Cesar, and Bonaparte shall
rot in Oblivion. 1t was the name of
Washington. Before he marched with
Braddeck to the fatal field, he had been
there and left his name foot above all
his predecessors. 1t was glorious
thought of a boy TO write his name side
by side with that of the great father of
his country He grasps his knife with
firm hand-and clinging TO little iutting
crag, he cuts again into the limestone,
about foot above where he stands but
as he puts his feet and hands into those
gains, and draws himself carefully to
his full length, he finds himself foot
above every name chronicled in that
mighty wall. While his companions are
regarding him with concern and admira-
tion, he cuts his name in huge capitals,
large and deep, into that flinty album.
His knife is stillin his hand and strength
in his sinews, and a newly-created
aspiration i'm his heart
Again he cuts another niche, and
again he carves his name in large capi-
tails. This is not enough. Needless of
the entreaties of his companions, he
cuts and climbs again. The graduations
of his ascending scale grow wider apart.
He measures his length at every gain he
cuts. The voice Of his friends wax
weaker and weaker, till their words are
finally lost on his ear. He now for the
first time casts n look beneath him. Had
that glance lasted q moment. that mo-
ment would have been his last. He
clings with q convulsivc .shudder TO his
little niche in the rock. An awful abyss
awaits his almOst-certain fall He is
faint with severe exertion, and trem-
bling from the sudden view of the dread
full destruction to which he is exposed
His knife is worn half way to the haft.
He can hear the voices but not the
words Of his terrOr-strickcn companions
below What a mOmentl What a
meagre chance 10 escape destruction
There is no retracing his steps. 1t is
impossible to put his hands into the same
niche with his feet, and retain his hold a
moment. His companions instantly per-
ceive this new and fearful dilemma, and
await his fall with emotions that " freeze
their young blood" lie 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 anticipates his de-
sire. Swift as the wind he bounds down
the channel, and the fatal situation of
the boy is told upon his fathers hearth
stone.
Minutes Of almost eternal length
rolled -ou, and there were hundreds
standiag in that rocky channel, and
hundreds on the ridge above, ali hold
ing their breath and awaiting the fear
ful catastrophe. The poor boy hears the
hum of new and numerous voices. both
above and below. lie can lust dis
tinguish tho tones Of his fathers voice
who is shouting, with all the energy of
despair:
William William don't look
down. Your mother and Henry and
Harriet are al here praying for YOU.
Don't look down. Keep your eyes
toward the top"
The boy didn't look down-his eyes
are fixed like flint toward heaven. and
his young heart on Him who reiens
there. lie grasps again his knife. lie
cuts another niche, and another foot is
added to the hundreds that remove him
from the reach of human help from be
low. How carefully he uses his wasting
blade How anxiously he selects the