ater natural curiosity and more wonderful than Niagara,
although it lacks the elements of sublimity which the other has in
sound, and of the visible, actual struggle in which it displays the
powers of nature. Niagara is a living thing, while the Natural Bridge
is _monumental_. The first represents the sublime as allied to the
terrific,--in contemplating it we are overwhelmed with a sense of our
insignificance; while the Natural Bridge associates the sublime with the
pleasing and curious, and, not transporting us as violently as Niagara,
entertains us more equably, and dismisses us, we think, with more
distinct and fruitful perceptions of the grandeur and beneficence and
variety of nature which have been distributed in the picture.

[Washington, a century and a half ago, carved his name at a
high elevation on the rock walls of the abyss. In 1818 these
walls were climbed to the top by James H. Piper, a student
of Washington College, Virginia. The narrative here given of
this daring feat is from the pen of William A. Caruthers.]

Mr. Piper, the hero of the occasion, commenced climbing on the opposite
side of the creek from the one by which the pathway ascends the ravine.
He began down on the banks of the brook so far that we did not know
where he had gone, and were only apprised of his whereabouts by his
shouting above our heads. When we looked up, he was standing apparently
right under the arch, I suppose a hundred feet from the bottom, and that
on the smooth side, which is generally considered inaccessible without a
ladder. He was standing far above the spot where General Washington is
said to have inscribed his name when a youth. The ledge of the rock by
which he ascended to this perilous height does not appear from below to
be three inches wide, and runs almost at right angles to the abutment of
the bridge....

The ledge of rock on which he was standing appeared so narrow to us
below as to make us believe his position a very perilous one, and we
earnestly entreated him to come down. He answered us with loud shouts of
derision....

He soon after descended from that side, crossed the brook, and commenced
climbing on the side by which all visitors ascend the ravine. He first
mounted the rocks on this side, as he had done on the other, far down
the abutment, but not so far as on the opposite side. The projecting
ledge may be distinctly seen by any visitor. It commences four or five
feet from th