Edgar Huntley

myself immersed in the dunnest obscurity. Had I not been persuaded that another had gone before me, I should have relinquished the attempt. I proceeded with the utmost caution, a

hould be disabled from returning. To obviate this danger it was requisite to adhere to the nearest wall, and conform to the direction which it should take, without straying thro

on, being aware that I might at the next step encounter a bottomless pit. To the brink of such a one I

to ascertain. It might be a few inches beyond my reach, or hundreds of feet. By leaping down I mi

my undertaking on the morrow. Yet, having advanced thus far, I felt reluctance to recede without accomplishing my purposes. I reflected

ng the edge of this cavity. This edge would be as safe a guidance, and would serve as we

f, for a few minutes, on a stony mass which arose before me. My situation was new. The caverns I had hitherto met with in this desert were chiefly formed of low-browed rocks. They were c

as empty and waste. I had gone no inconsiderable distance, and persuaded myself that my career would speedily terminate. In a short time, the space on the lef

as I advanced. I endeavoured to preserve a vivid conception of the way which I had already passed, a

nhanced by the ceaseless caution and the numerous expedients which the utter darkness obliged me to employ, began to overpower my strength. I was frequently compelled to stop and rec

opitious token appeared, and I issued forth into a kind of chamber, one side of which was open to the air and allowed me to catch a portion of the checker

of fifteen or twenty yards, was a similar ascent. At the bottom was a glen, cold, narrow, and obscure. This projecture, which served as

beyond this, the winding course of the river, and the slopes which rose on its farther side, were parts of this extensive scene. These objects were at any time fitted to inspire rapture. Now my delight was enhanced by th

necessary to inquire by what means I should return. I traversed the edge of the hill, but on every side it was equally steep and always too lofty to permit me to leap from it. As I kept along the verge, I perceive

an that which surrounds it, but so small as to leave between its sides and those of the cavity a hollow space, you will gain as distinct an image of this hill as words can convey. The summit of the inner rock was rugge

rer examination showed me that the passage was impracticable. So far as my eye could estimate it, the breadth was thirty or forty feet. I could scarcely venture to look beneath. The height was dizzy, and the walls, which approached each other at top, reced

its own force seemed gradually to have made. The noise and the motion equally attracted my attention. There was a desolate and solitary grandeur in the sce

eyes had never been fixed upon these gushing waters. The aboriginal inhabitants had no motives to lead them into caves like this and ponder on the verge of such a precipice. Their

confined and embarrassed its course. I admired their fantastic shapes and endless irregularities. Passing from one

ation. I loosened my hold of a pine-branch, which had been hitherto one of my supports, and almost started from my se

tion was accessible by no other road than that through which I had passed, and no motives were imaginable by which others could be

countenance was human, but, in spite of shaggy and tangled locks, and an air of

his person, something which should indicate his past rather than his present existence, was all that I hoped to find. That he should be found ali

lf concealed by hair. There was somewhat in his attitude and looks denoting more than anarchy of thoughts and passions. His ru

sures which it was my duty to adopt for his relief. The first suggestion was, by calling, to inform him of my presence. I knew not what counsel or comfort to offer. By what words to be

ll and piercing tone to my voice. The chasm and the rocks loudene

ecture above, as if he were in momentary expectation of its fall and crushing him to atoms. Now he started on his feet. He was conscious o

ped his hands together and bent forward, as if to satisfy himself that his summoner was real. At

distinctly heard, I advanced closer to the brink. During this action, my eye was necessarily

indeed, would have been overpowered by the noise of the cataract. The place where he sat was the bottom of a cavity, one side of which terminated in the verge of the

ess. His cries or groans could not be overheard amidst the uproar of the waters. His fall mu

nauspicious interference had led, filled me with compunction and terror. Some of my fears were relieved by the new conjecture, that, be

to insinuate the lessons of fortitude; but if words were impotent, and arguments were nugatory, yet to sit by him in silence, to moisten his hand with tears, to sigh in unison, to offer him the spectacle of sympathy, t

cticable undertaking, since Clithero had already performed it. I once more made the circuit of the hill. Every side was steep and of enormous height, and t

, and it appeared very suitable for a bridge. Happily it grew obliquely, and, if felled by an axe, would probably fall of itself, in such a manner as to b

mined to carry it into immediate execution. For this end I must hasten home, procure an axe, and return with all expedition hither. I took my former way, once more entered the subter

escape perishing by famine. He might intend to destroy himself by this means, and my first efforts were to be employed to overcome this fatal resolution. To persuade him to leave his desolate haunts might be a laborious and tedious task; meanwhile, all my benevolent intentions would be f