Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1905-11-24

ters the gorge close to the intake at
its best was steep and rugged, and has
now, from lack Of all attention, be-;
come we'll nigh impossible. Fallen
trees block the narrow passage and
have either to be squeezed under or
straddled over or sidled around on a
precipitous slope. The rocky bed Of
the path trickles and streams with wa
ter and the slime and mud and holes
have to be slipped or stumbled over
by man and beast. Travellers usually
start out bravely on horseback to
make the ten mile ascent, they ride
until they feel that death is staring
them in the face, when they dismount
to hobble along along until they drop
in their track; then as they realize
that they are going to be killed any
how they climb into the saddle again,
hoping to ease their journey to the
other world.
Strange as 1t may appear. consider
ing the dangers, no very serious acci-
dent since that which cost Professor
Mitchell his life has ever occurred.
Women have wept and men have
groaned and beasts have quaked and
gnashed their teeth on this wild noun
tain trail. but they have all lived to
come down, and some have even ven-
tured again to make the terrible climb
and the hazardous descent.
The millionaire candy manufactu-
rer. Huyler. who has been instrument
al in building up a little village eight
miles from the cove, called Montreal,
has engineered new trail to Mount
Mitchell. 1t traverses several high
peaks and keeps on the top Of dizzy
ridges. The vistas to be seen on ev-
cry side are magnificent, but the
length and roughness Of this new trail
is even greater than the old one.
much of an altitude, when compared
to the great peaks on the Pacific slope.
but Mount Mitchell Is SO unapproach-
able, SO hemmed in by high mountains
that the difficulty of reaching its sum-
NIT is exceedingly great.
The view from the dome, at Prof.
Mitchelps grave, is sublime and glo-
rious beyond description. Once when
the moon was rising, over world
floating between earth and sky, the
wonderful hush was broken by the
voices of campers uplifted in the hymn
of Nearer, My God, to Thee" 1t
seemed as II earth could bring hu-
manity no nearer to the great white
throne than at that moment.
Another scene, even more solemn
and impressive, occurred one August
morning when the clouds with a
crimson sun bursting over them, made
1t appear as If the pinnacle of Mount
Mitchell was an altar Of onyx arising
from sea Of fire. Great waves OF
flames leapt upward in swirling col
umns mingling with the sky, and
strange as 1t may seem, there was
nothing terrible in this spectacle, for
the flames were as soft as the curtains
to Gods tabernacle and the stiffness Of
1t all unearthly. There, upon an altar
Of stone amid glory almost celestial,
knelt two priests Offering up to the
Creator OF all, the Holy Sacrifice Of
the Mass. Such scenes as these are
fitting to the grandeur and majesty OF
this monarch Of the Appalachians!
It is always with a pang that one
bids farewell to this upper world Of
gorgeous visions to descend to the
commonplace beaten track Of mortals
to tumble almost head over heels
down to the intake.
Probably the traveller will spend
the night In the little cove, II he lives
to tell the tale. II the weather is fair
and no breezes blow, he may hear,
mingling with his dreams q lonely fox
barking on a distant crag-an owl
breaking into shuddering laughter, or
perchance the low, savage growl Of a
prowling wild cat. The wolves and
bears do not venture from their lairs
in the deep ravines. Years ago the
writer heard when camping on Crag-
gy, the howls from packs Of wolves,
but the forests have been so disturbed
in these days Of saw mills that wolves
and bears have retired to impenetra-
BILE Businesses and their cries are
heard no more.
party Of tenters to have their provis-
ions routed at midnight. In great ex-
citement they report their hair
breadth escape from a bear, but In
vestigation never fails to prove that
the marauder was but an ordinary
stray hog. These tenters always con-
slider discretion the better part Of
valor.
II storm is brewing there Is no
sleep for dodgers near the intakes, for
even at the most exposed lighthouses
the wind and waves make not half the
commotion that is created In this tiny
cove. Through Balsam Gap the
blasts swoop down straight from the
North Pole, meeting the Antarctic
current that belches forth from the
gap Of the Blue Ridge. Famed on
mighty pinions the forest sways and
shrieks and roars, while the gorges
and deep rock crevices emit booming.
thunderous, earthquaking reverbera-
tions, that mingie with the artillery
echoes of the streams into crescendo
of wild chaotic sounds that 1t would
seems the very earth was being riven
asunder.
And this is the strange little cove
that harbors the intake and supplies
Asheville with the coolest, purest,
cleanest water ever distilled from
heaven for earth.-Helen Morris Lew
is In News and Courier.
A Wonderful Automaton.