If the day is clear, the prospect is almost boundless in extent and of infinite beauty. Range behind range of great mountains lie below, like a Titanic ocean stilled by some mighty hand. From this supreme elevation it is possible to study the structural character of the region, and to count all the great chains that cross the country, while no words can express the varying and exquisite color that, like a glamour of heavenly enchantment, lies over the wide expanse. The whole earth, “and the beauty thereof,” seems to be spread out at one’s feet, and the airs that come to this high mountain crest are full of freshness and balm.
TITANIA’S VEIL, LURAY CAVERNS, VIRGINIA.—The origin of the beautiful scarfs and canopies that constitute a special feature of the attractions of Luray Caverns, and which differ from all other subterraneous formations yet discovered, is from carbonates deposited by water trickling down a sloping and corrugated surface. In one place there are sixteen of these alabaster scarfs hanging side by side—three white and fine as crepe shawls; thirteen striated like agate, with every shade of brown, and all perfectly transparent. Down the edge of each a tiny rill glistens like silver, the ever-flying shuttle that weaves this fairy fabric. When lighted by electricity each drop of liquid and every rounded gem becomes a flaming diamond, producing a scene of splendor that can be but faintly imagined.
COLOSSEUM FALLS, NEAR DINGMAN’S FERRY, PENNSYLVANIA.
A Southern poet, who climbed the mountain in the spring of 1891, thus describes the inspiring sight which greeted him when the day was dying: “To witness a sunset from this peak is something long to be remembered. Never shall I forget that evening in June, when in company with my guide, we stood by the grave on the summit of Mount Mitchell, and looked down on that scene of resplendent glory that lay before us; far in the west the sun was slowly sinking in a bed of crimson and gold, the horizon was lighted with a flushing radiance which was infinitely sublime, while the whole landscape was aglow with splendor, every tint and hue imaginable seemed to intermingle in that sea of color, and every jutting crag, and dome, and pinnacle of sullen rock flamed as though a thousand rainbows had fallen out of the sky and hung themselves there like glorious banners; we stand enthralled at the scene before us, no sound is heard, no note of bird breaks the awful stillness. We are in the region of that eternal silence which wraps the summit of the ‘everlasting hills.’ A hush of dreamy repose broods over this lofty peak, which still retains the last rays of the setting sun, while over the world below twilight has fallen.
‘How fair this lone and lovely scene,
And yonder dropping fiery ball,