Mexico weekly ledger., 1884-09-11
ALI KINDS or JOB PRINTING
Tt

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The trail dips down to the slant Of
. house roof, and you slide, slip and
feel your way for q quarter OF mile
before striking the level. You are
now in Great Bear Canyon. If you
have the company of three or four
men you are awed and silenced. II
you are alone YOU suddenly become
q coward.
Aye! canyon is the place to try
ones nerves-to whiten the face, to
bring chills, to weaken the muscles,
to make q man hate himself for the
cowardice he cannot control. Here
is the gloom Of twilight. Elsewhere
this gloom brings out the swallows
and the night hawks, the songs Of
crickets, the notes of frogs, a feeling
Of peace and rest. This canyon has
never felt sunshine. This gloom was
born Thousands Of years ago, and has
never been broken into by the Eight
Of day. Behind you the rugged
rocks are partly covered by vines.
What sarcasm and hypocrisy! The
vine is one which thTises only in the
gloom which makes you shudder, and
it loves the company of snakes and
Lizards and disgusting worms. In
front Of you there is the drip Of wa
ter. Plash! plash! Drip! dripl But
the sound does not quiet your nerves.
The water has flowed over ugly roots.
snake-like vines, beds of bleached
moss--past the homes of reptiles,
and you would not touch it unless
crazed with thirst.
Look up at the canyon. A road
twenty feet wide running into the
darkness of the bowels of the Rocky
Mountains. A road? Say, rather, q
rayine-a tunnel-a pathway for lost
souls to travel up and down. These
mountains were born-when? Six
ten--twenty - fifty thousand years
ago. This canyon was born with
them. This rocky bottom is as ma
ture fashioned it when the great Is
land lakes were mere ponds, which
skifs could safely navigate. These
scanned and rugged sides have UNDER
gone no change since the sun first
rose and looked down upon the earth
in wonderment. The thought OF it
increases your cowardice.
Listen! Were you lying in your
grave, the silence could not be more
profound. On the ocesa behind these
mountains there is ever the clash and
dash OF waves. On the prairies be-
hind you there is the rustling of the
breeze, the chirup Of birds, the foot
steps Of wild animals. But here is
the grimness Of death. The bit Of
melting snow thousand feet above
your head, which sent the splash and
drip down the rocks, has been ex-
hausted, and not another drop is
heard. No living thing makes a
sound to break the silence. There Is
No whisper from the wind-not the
fall Of a pebble or the dropping of a
leaf.
Ah! you tremble! Your limbs
weaken until you almost sink dosn.
You feel your heart beating as IL try
ing to beat its way out Suppose
lyou were to be chained here as a
punishment! Even If provided with
food, water, and a bed, you would
lgo raving mad inside Of week. The
lgrimness of this eternal twilight
would set you wild, and the awful
silence Of the canyon would be bro.
ken by the clank Of chains and the
Ishrieks of lunatic. 1t is high noon.
In the world outside the sun shines
hetly. Down here il is night, and
there is the chill OF November. II j,
is SO at high noon, what must it be ai
midnight? And il this absolute 81.
ience SD unstrings your nerves, how
would il be when the lizards run fror
crevice to crevice along the fiinty
walls-wien the serpents throw of
their ietlargy and issue from theil
dens to hiss and strike at you-wher
the grizzly leaves his den and come,
numbering down the canyon in searcl
of food!
And you shadder, and cringe, and
weaken. All the wealth of earti
. would not bribe you to advance uI
this ravinc hundred feet. 1t would
be relief to even feel the presence
of some spirit condemned 10 roam nf
and down this pathway for all time .e
. come.
| Let US go. Fifty steps away are
sunshine the songs CT birds-the
voices Of men-green grass, and 9
view of heaven. Here we stand in
the doorway Of death. Men and
women rise from their graves to be
judged, and this is the pathway into
!, which turn the footsteps of all con.
demned. II we feel its horrors here
what must be the sensation in thsl
, deeper, bIacker darkness beyond Z
, II is stated upon the authority OF /,
telegram from Mr.. Abbey, in Lon
: don, to Mr.. Grsu, in New York, tina
II