danger while crossing these rude bridges, which hardly belongs to
them; having reached the other side of the creek, we continued
under the shelter of the evergreens for another quarter of a
mile, and then emerged upon a sight that drew a shout of wonder
and delight from us all. The rocky depths of an enormous river
were opened before our eyes and so huge are the black crags that
inclose it, that the thundering torrents of water rushing
through, over, and among the rocks of this awful chasm, appear
lost and swallowed up in it.

The river, or rather the bed of it, is here of great width, and
most frightful depth, lined on all sides with huge masses of
black rock of every imaginable form. The flood that roars
through them is seen only at intervals; here in a full heavy
sheet of green transparent water, falling straight and unbroken;
there dashing along a narrow channel, with a violence that makes
one dizzy to see and hear. In one place an unfathomed pool shows
a mirror of inky blackness, and as still as night; in another the
tortured twisted cataract tumbles headlong in a dozen different
torrents, half hid by the cloud of spray they send high into the
air. Despite this uproar, the slenderest, loveliest shrubs, peep
forth from among these hideous rocks, like children smiling in
the midst of danger. As we stood looking at this tremendous
scene, one of our friends made us remark, that the poison alder,
and the poison vine, threw their graceful, but perfidious
branches, over every rock, and assured us also that innumerable
tribes of snakes found their dark dwellings among them.

To call this scene beautiful would be a strange abuse of terms,
for it is altogether composed of sights and sounds of terror.
The falls of the Potomac are awfully sublime: the dark deep gulf
which yawns before you, the foaming, roaring cataract, the
eddying whirlpool, and the giddy precipice, all seem to threaten
life, and to appal the senses. Yet it was a great delight to sit
upon a high and jutting crag, and look and listen.

I heard with pleasure that it was to the Virginian side of the
Potomac that the "felicity hunters" of Washington resorted to see
this fearful wonder, for I never saw a spot where I should less
have liked the annoying "how d'ye," of a casual rencontre. One
could not even give or receive the exciting "is it not charming,"
which Rousseau talks of, for if it were uttered, it could not be
heard, or, if heard, would fall m