proud heads on each side, separated by a channel of sublimity. Those who
view the sun, the moon, and the stars, and allow that none but God could
make them, will here be impressed that none but an _Almighty_ God could
build a bridge like this.

The view of the bridge from below is as pleasing as the top view is
awful. The arch from beneath would seem to be about two feet in
thickness. Some idea of the distance from the top to the bottom may be
formed, from the fact, that as I stood on the bridge and my companion
beneath, neither of us could speak sufficiently loud to be heard by the
other. A man, from either view, does not appear more than four or five
inches in height.

As we stood under this beautiful arch, we saw the place where visitors
have often taken the pains to engrave their names upon the rock. Here
Washington climbed up twenty-five feet, and carved his own name, where
it still remains. Some, wishing to immortalise their names, have
engraven them deep and large, while others have tried to climb up and
insert them high in this book of fame.

A few years since, a young man, being ambitious to place his name above
all others, was very near losing his life in the attempt. After much
fatigue he climbed up as high as possible, but found that the person who
had before occupied his place was taller than himself, and consequently
had placed his name above his reach. But he was not thus to be
discouraged. He opened a large jack-knife, and, in the soft limestone,
began to cut places for his hands and feet. With much patience and
industry he worked his way upwards, and succeeded in carving his name
higher than the most ambitious had done before him. He could now
triumph, but his triumph was short; for he was placed in such a