well be the ruins of all the ancient cities in the world. Far below
flash the waters of Lake Morain, and beyond, to the southward, lie the
Seven Lakes. Another turn of the track to the northward, and the shining
rails stretch almost straight up what appears to be an inaccessible wall
of almost peerless granite. But no physical obstruction is formidable
enough to stop the progress of this marvelous railway; and passing the
yawning abyss of the 'Crater,' the line proceeds direct to the summit.
The grade here is one of 25 per cent., and timid passengers will not
escape a thrill of fear as they gaze over the brink of this precipice,
although the danger is absolutely nothing. At last the summit is
reached, and, disembarking, the tourists can seek refreshments in the
hotel, which will cater to their wants, and then spend the time before
the train returns in enjoying the view, and in rambling over the seventy
acres of broken granite which form the summit.

"The view from the Peak, once beheld, can never be forgotten. The first
sensation is that of complete isolation. The silence is profound. The
clouds are below us, and noiselessly break in foaming billows against
the faces of the beetling cliffs. Occasionally the silence is broken by
the deep roll of thunder from the depths beneath, as though the voice of
the Creator were uttering a stern edict of destruction. The storm rises,
the mists envelop us, there is a rush of wind, a rattle of hail, and we
seek refuge in the hotel.

"Pause a moment before entering, and hold up your hands. You can feel
the sharp tingle of the electric current as it escapes from your
finger-tips. The storm is soon over, and you can see the sunbeams
gilding the upper surfaces of the white clouds that sway and swing below
you half way down the mountain sides, and completely hide from view the
world beneath. The scenery shifts, like a drawn curtain the clouds part;