The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1879-07-17
suppose they lived in these eaoins,i e. the

suppose they lived in these cabins,i. e. the.
existed. enter the first; 1t is built of rougl
logs, and matched with mud-plasteret
poles. 1t is guiltless Of window and Their
is no door, though an aperture in the log
served as doorway. Within, rusty stove
two benches, a few worn utensils scattered
on the foor-on the ground I mean. An(
here is venerable pie plate, stained by a p
that was eaten long ago-it is yellow at tn
bottom, and dark-red at the edges; proba bl.
it was made of mountain raspberries, and il
must have boiled over.
The second hut is much like the first, mi
nus stove, save that-oh! triumph of civiliza.
tion-a rough shelf is tackled up on the wal
covered by a yellowed newspaper, which
some hand had notched into rough scallops
The remaining cabin is toughest of all; a pi
dug in the earth and fenced in by stones il
the fireplace. Slender saplings raised abou
two feet from the ground and stretched par
allel across an alcove lit one may SO degrade
the term) constitute the bed. Some w.iitish
green vines have sprung up from the foo
and wreathe these poles with their sicklJ
tendrils it is new idea to have conserv-
atory under ones bed, is it nots Part OF the
roof has fallen away, and by the slantine
sunbeams which glance in, I see a squirrel
watching me furtively through the aperture.
1 also discover hole in the earth, in the cor
ner from whence gaze at me pair of fiery
orbs, and beat hasty retreat. It may be
only woodchuck but in state which fur
nishes so many species to the Natural His
tory as Colorado. it is dangerous to presume
200 far Oh the may-be's.
| II some of those who are tempted by the
shining glamour of miners life, as shown
forth in print, could stand on Cheyenne
mountain and see the squalor Of the reality,
fewer argonauts would be wrecked in pursuit
of the Golden Fleece, as Bret Harte so APPLY
calls it. Had we taken branch road after
leaving the toll-gate, we would have reached
Cheyenne canyon, most famous OF all canons
ia the vicinity. North Cheyenne canyon ex-
hibits its features on dwarfed scale, rocky
walls not quite so high. and cascades not
quite so imposing. Cheyenne canon cleave S
the mountain to its base en- the northeast
ern side. It is a straight, narrow ravine cut
down nearly thousand feet in the solid red
rock by the mighty hand OF the centuries.
Scattered pines can find foot hold for
their roots in its interstlces, but to us,stand-
ing below, the walls appear blank precipices
shutting out, like penthouse, the far blue
sky. In September, sumach deadens the red
rocks by its vivid scarlet; and the golden.
rod and the aster in the wood'' are as famil-
lar here ss ever they were to Bryant in chill
New England woods. A vexatious stream
winds its tedious length through the canyon,
bridged by planks, trunks Of trees and slip
perry rocks. Nine times must it be crossed
before you reach the Falls, and you always
fall in. There at the Falls, the canyon widens
into an amphitheatre of massive rocks,
where all stand in hushed silence amid the
grey shadows. In the centre is a pallucid
pool encircled by a strip Of white sand, and
from the height Of the canyon wall, the cas-
cades dash, leaping, and gushing with silver
spray, into this basin. You can discover six,
one above another, threading their way over
the damp moss-grown rocks: in the stereo-
scopic veins OF Cheyenne canyon, you may
count nine; and they tell you that il you
climb to the top of the canyon you can see
seven. But, as Hosea Biglow says;
''Don't never 60 it blind on the word OF
newspaper or poet.'
Would you know the process? make your
way to point, on the right hand of the can
yon, steep as any other point, perhaps lit
tie steeper-that they tell you, is the path.
If you are of the ''male persuasion
you set forth solus, painting. If you are wo-
man, two Of the opposite sex seize a wrist
and pull you up, somewhat after the mann er
of the pyramids, only, more so. Your eyes
are blinded, teeth chatter, head swims, ears
| ring, and breath comes short or not. at all.
The so-called path is lined with myriads OF
small round stones, in which your feet be-
come embedded every few seconds. You
extricate-or ercavate-them and proceed.
Also, these uncertain pebbles fail under
your feet, causing you to take five steps back
ward, for every one that you take forward,
which is novel and pleasing. lin returning,
| you and the stones are no longer in opposi-
| ton, but of the same mind, nd the wonder
is which shall reach the bottom first. 1t is
merely question of gravitation not of Volt
tion.)
This lasts for about a mile Of perpendicu-
lar climbing, during which you are aware Of
nothing, save of merciful, half way rest on
stony ledge, where again is spread before
you that wondrous view of the limitless
plains, now framed in the gothic pillars OF
one Of Natures rocky cathedral windows.
At lenght the welcome words, ''you are
here,' sound in your bewildered ears. You
open your dizzy eyes and survey the pros
pect. It is clear that you are on the top Of
something, because there is nothing above
you, but the closely wooded vistas on either
hand decline to give any information,
Before you on shaggy tree, are tackled the
cards or carved the names of the martyrs
who have preceded you.
Now for the ne plus ultra! You cautious.
ly approach the edge, lessen the distance Of
1000 feet below you, by about three Of
downward climbing extend yourself upon
an extremely shaky rock, and look down.
The amphitheatre now assumes resem.
blance to receiving vault for the unfortu-
mates who should chance to fall over; and
are those white dabs, falls? Sam Patch
might have had sufficient nerve to count
them, but you haven't. Then yuo react
down and pluck particularly ugly little
yellow flower which grows there for the ex-
press accommodation of ardent tourists
Helping hands are again extended, and
you are set on terra frma having 'done the
Seven Falls"
ssDid you see the Seven Falls?''
ssSeven Falls?'' was responded. s'Suspent
me on that roek, between earth and sky,
little longer, and would have been able tt
see hundred falls with my eyes shut"
NJ. V. D.
A Chicago editor shouts, 'sWe have killed
.sO4, 900 hogs since the first of March ~ Th'