The Point Pleasant register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, W. Va.) 1909-1939, 1910-10-12

Up this path We made our way until
we came 10 the cliff top And there
my companion turned TO observe in
my face the effect Il made upon MY
mind Long has heloved II, nshas
he scaled lis most dangerous peaks
and descended to Chamber over It's
rocks and explore It's echolng caves,
but always II Is with fresh delight and
a new intaklng OF enthusiasm, The
gulls wheeled over our heads. q bank
OF fog came toward us. out Of a busy
sea, the waves Numbered and reared
and Kissed on the piled rocks far be
low us, and there. stretching away in
sombre majesty and lonely beauty,
stood the great shattered cliffs Of Cor
nish granite, fortress built by Ma
ture for herself. Out Of the mist they
rose IN splendid melancholy. not
smooth and polished, not kind and
pastoral, Dut with q look Of human
suffering, an expression Of immemor.
ial grief, a spirit Of Promethean en-
durance- rocks. terrible. awful aud
pitiless.
In one place they suggest that q
race Of Titans have brought here the.
wfeckage Of all the castles and cathe.
drals ever erected on the earth and
hung them down in giant confusIpni
you can see a great flying buttressI
projecting from the cliR, mighty
tower broken in hast upon the rocks
pinnicles, arches, pillars and tracery
hurled upon the sands. and whole
walls stiil standing, but at wild ang ,es
against the cliff itself. You can see
the rnnins of shakespearels proud
buildings" and in the rusty linchen see
the smear Of dust upon their glitter
ing golden towers. And II you know
aught Of the history Of this terrible
coast, you can read ON the heaped.
boulders md in the jagged spikes Of
snarIing rocks the tale q great ships
beaten ard smashed to rnatchwood In
ten minutes Of the clock, Ali that Vic
tor Hugo ever wrote Of the terrors Of
the sea and the ferocity Of rocky coasts
comes crowding and insistent into
your mind as you stand on the lonely
Gin and let the spirit Of the scene
scar itself into your soul.
Rocks are perhops the grandest or
Natures works, Cliffs Of white chalk
are pleasant on a summer day and In
the poetry Of our island patriotism
have sweet and tender place but
cliffs Of ragged granite, marked With
all the rayages Of time, carved by
the winds and chisseled BY the rains,
as Mr.. Folliott Stokes says Of these
very cliffs, better bring home to the
mind the majesty Of Nature. Truer II,
would be, perhaps, to say Of these
torn by the winds and rayaged by the.
rains, for there has been no purpose,
no design in their handling. only the
ferocity Of destruction. And here they
stand, terrible, majestic, gorgeous and
awful; facing death with endurance
and regarding wind and sea and rain
with indifference; lifting their scared
but unbowed heads to the heavens.
their ruins piled in confusion at their
roots; like men enduring the oppug,
nance Of Nature. and on the dust Of
the centuries facing eternity without
dismay. The spirit Of these cliffs is
the spirit Of the Sphinx,
And this Is what makes the clifsiof
Cornwall so delightful walking
ground. They are full Of enticements
not to walk. You may set out with ali
the intention in the world to reach
certain point, to do 50 many miles. To-
keep such and such q pace. but the
little coyes disclosing themselves at
every swerve Of the cliffs will charm
you like syrens to the sands below.
And so onward you ramble, saunter.
loiter, lounge, and even battle. TIL the
sun sinks to his couch and appetite
turns you home. It may be that you
have gone scarcely O mile from your
starting point. but you have descended
and assembled q score Of times, every
muscle In the body has had It's work,
and the soul IS satisned You return
full Of Joy and splendidly tired.
HAROLD BEoBtE.