Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1891-05-06

to be soldiers about here in the war.
VINO come every year 10 see the place
aSain- | show them the bypaths, for
/ know 'em all.
"Where and what is the mans
face?"
"Why, don't you know about the
mans face on the rocks over on the
heishts?''
l was about to ask the child more
about the freak of nature that so in
terested her, and not only the simple
child, but 50 many others, when the
forbidding mistress of the house re-
appeared, and the girl shrank away.
GLOW far away is the mans face of
which your daughter has been telling
meE' L asked of the hard woman
whose presence was so ungracious an
interruption 10 my pleasant conversa-
ton with tie child.
"Have you been listening to the Cab
ole of that brat? She has got an easy
tongue for strangers, but she is too
mighty cunning to get any of her fine
talk OIL on the people what live along
the range. That gal wants 10 be fine
lady, she does, but l reckon she will
get over that afore many wears. I'll
send her to show you the way, if you
wants her."
The old creature, warmed with the
Idea of making some extra change, by
my interest in the girl, called out,
"Helen, come here, this gentleman
wants you to go and show him the way
to the top of the heights"
The girl walked shyly toward us,
and together we started to see the Gu
riosities of the mountain. She was
scantily dressed in a faded calico
frock and half worn sun-bonnet.
there was hardly enough of them left
to keep her feet from being torn by
the ragged rocks. Her home was soon
left in the distance, and while walking
OH over the wild confusion of trees,
stunted underground and great stones,
she told many strange stories of the
people who dwell among the crags
and within the shadows of the wind
clipped forest that garnishes these
lofty mountains. She was as fleet of
foot as she was glib of tongue, and it
taxed my energies to follow her in
either walk or talk. Perhaps half a
mile lay between the desolate home of
this young girl and the opening among
the trees to which she was guiding me
an opening that brought to view as
wonderful a panorama, painted by the
hand of the Creator, as ever met the
human eve.
While | took in the view my comely
and interesting guide climbed about
the rocks, and fell into gleeful mood
as she chased mountain squirrel into
its home among the stone piles. Her
musical voice rang out upon the rare
fled air, while | studied some of the
grand lessons nature teaches in the ma
jestic picture that stretches far ava!
before and above us.
| withdrew from the study with re-
luctance, and together we started up
the mountain to the fort at the top
There are no guns i'll the old fortifica-
ton now; no soldiers on guard, and
no evidences of war except the cold,
gray walls of the fortress, once SO fa-
miliar to thousands of brave men whom
the North and South sent into the war.
fort we found another mountain family
! living in poverty too abject to be de-
scribed with words. While they evi-
IDENTITY wanted bread to eat and clothes
to wear, their first request was for to-
bacco. A small donation of money
did not even supply the place of the
much-coveted weed. A half hour
spent in looking over the old relic of
war times, reviving recollections of the
past, and in catching a broader and
bolder view of the scenes we looked
upon from below, brought the hour of
departure. 1t was easier going down
the mountain than it was coming up,
and while we walked on | tried TO learn
from the child something of her early
history. She knew nothing except of
the life she was then leading and of the
mountains that were her home. She
told some strange stories of life on the
cliffs during the hour that brought us
back to the hovel where | found her.
A short rest at Helen's rude home,
and | started down the mountain alone.
1t was almost twilight when reached
the banks of the Potomac, ard crossed
the great iron bridge belonging to the
Baltimore 4 Ohio Railroad. During
the night there was heavy fall of rain
on the mountain and in the valley.
In the morning went out to look al
the rains of the Government property,
that stretch for mile or more along
the banks of both rivers. Each decay
ing building has an interesting his
tory, but the little engine house where
John Brown was captured has been
well preserved, and is the spot toward
which all visitors first turn their steps.
The place almost lives upon its tradi-
tons, now that its industries are
swept away. The hoof of war trod
out most of its hopes for the future,
and then floods came and swept the
rest away. After looking about for a
while at the many curious places in
and about the village, found that the
morning fog had cleared away from
the face of Maryland Heights, and |
looked for the mans face cut in stone.
An old citizen pointed out the curiosi-
| tv and traced for me its outlines on the
rock. Sure enough there was the grim
visage, furrowed and Drowned by the
| storms. The rains of summer and the
nows of winter had pelted against If
without other effect than to deepen the
lines and make the face more wrinkled.
| The half cheek was turned directly
toward the village, but only part of
the rigid countenance that had been
worn into the limestone by the erosion
\ of ages. 1t has taken centuries of sdu-
| cbina and slpet IN chispl the mouth.
round the nose, curve the chin and
work out all the outlines of face that
some people imagine always wears
broad Milesian grin, while others say
it is the calm, dignified countenance OF
George Washington. These differen.
, ces each observer must settle for him.