Lehigh University
The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 064 [08-14-1853]

              a scene must be here on chill October, at the shut of eve, when
one terrible roll of surf raves and thunders all along this wild
coast.      When the mad winds sweep down from the stormy north,
over thousands of miles of savage country, and lakes un-
plowed by keel.  When Boreas fiercely blows, and blinding rain
sweeps athwart the vexed and o�erclouded sky.   When the poor
red Indian in birch-bark canoe marks that belt of foam and
hears the long low thunder roll of breakers.     When eagles scream,
storm tost, and a solitary gull gyrates anear; � when gazing out
far and wide no human thing can be descried over the awful lake,
then must this Scene be grand to look upon.   /            The colors
perpendicular in their course, are very distinct, now.     And some-
times they assume strange shapes, cathedral windows, with Iris-tin-
ted panes.    Here and there fancy man espy a niched figure,
or a crouching animal.     We coast on.     Another cascade, of
equal beauty with the former ones.         It is, to my regret, now
determined to row back to the Steamboat.    But the mist is
all around, and our course no easy one.   Rowing on awhile,
we at length satisfactorily discover we don�t know where we are. So
we rest on our oars, and holler; with intent to provoke response
from the steam boat.    All together, long continued, varying long
drawn yells.   Dead silence and listening all.  No response through
the fog enwrapping us.  Again, and yet again, with a like result.
Row on again, farther yet.   No better success.    We jest
and rally one another.     Suggestions are putty forth as to camping at
in the Grand Portal.   Stray remarks touching sustenance derived from
boats & avid speculations on Cannibalism.         �Twas a merry party               
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