views ever permitted to mortal, since Moses surveyed from Pizgah the glories of the Land of Promise, or Balaam 'from the top of the rock' burst into involuntary prophetic rapture over the tabernacle and the tents of Israel!

"The Falls of The Passaic, before the water was diverted from its channel to feed the factories below, was considered one of the greatest natural curiosities of our country. The cascade itself is now an insignificant object, though the surrounding scenery is still full of wild, romantic grandeur.

"In our approach, we crossed a chasm, three or four feet wide, and eighty feet deep; in which several persons, at different times, have lost their lives. We were informed of a young man who attempted to leap it, and fell in; but was taken out so little injured, as to be able to go the same day to New York!

"We soon reached the brink of the precipice, whence Sam Patch took his first leap toward immortality, and whence the beautiful and accomplished bride of Hooper Cummins fell into the basin. The former was a daring feat; and would scarcely have proved successful, but for that article of the hero's faith, which served him on all occasions; namely, 'That some things can be done as well as others!' The latter was a melancholy event, and the more so for its attendant circumstances. Hooper Cummins was a splendid pulpit orator, and had come to Patterson to preach, bringing with him his charming bride. 'Robed in the bloom of young desire, The purple light of love.'

His sermon on this occasion was singularly impressive. During the delivery of its closing sentence, a blackbird flew in at the window, fluttered around the pulpit, and alighted just above the preacher's head. This was interpreted by many into a melancholy omen. The next morning he went with Mrs. Cummins to see the cataract; and as they stood upon the verge of the rock encircling the basin, she fell into the water a hundred feet below. Hooper Cummins never recovered from the shock; but lived and preached, broken hearted-some say dementate for several years; when his sun set behind gloomy clouds, leaving a melancholy remembrance to the world.

"We next came to the bridge across the chasm, just where the cataract, like a self murderer, flings itself headlong. This bridge was built by one Tim Crane, a man of notorious eccentricity. When he had finished the work, he sent a note to one of the ministers in Patterson, to be read in the congregation, requesting them to offer public thanks to God for its safe and successful completion. He afterward built a log cabin on a little eminence near by; where he lived alone, and sold refreshments to visitors at the Falls; and where, one night, he died in his solitude.

"Forest Garden, to which Crane's bridge led us, is a beautiful resort; blending various attractions of art with the wild and terrible sublimities of nature. At the northern extremity, a small stream issues from the rock, and is converted by a dam into a miniature lake, the habitation of numerous fish,

shaded by a range of willows, which weep along the margin. At the southern side is a narrow ravine, eighty feet long, which terminates at the precipice, where it opens to a delightful view of the river and the surrounding scenery. Here, it is said, Washington and La Fayette spent much time, while the army quartered at Totowa. Here 'The Father of His Country' planned his campaigns, drew his battle diagrams, and probably knelt in prayer. The place is called The Grotto of Records.' The perpendicular rock on the right as you descend, presents a smooth surface of more than a hundred square feet, on which the heroes and sages of the revolution have engraved their names, till it is literally covered with inscriptions. We found this simple record G. W., 1778'—the tracery of Gen. Washington's own hand. Little did the patriot leader of his people suspect, as he cut his initials into the stone, that he was carving his name so deeply on the nation's heart. Here La Fayette too, the hero of two revolutions, has placed his record; and he is said to have wept, when he visited the place, after the lapse of forty years. May these rocks endure forever!

"The Cottage of The Cliff,' in another part of the Garden, overhangs the precipice, at the height of a hundred feet. An adventurous burgler, in his nocturnal attempt at an entrance, last summer, fell from the window, and met his retribution among the rocks."

CHAPTER XVI.

THE SUNNY SOUTH.

"Life hath as many farewells,
As it hath sunny hours;
And over some are scattered thorns,
And over others flowers."

THE last of August, 1846, we bade adieu to Philadelphia; and after sojourning a few weeks with our friends in Western New York, set out for the Crescent City, where we arrived on the fourth of November.

During our southern residence, Mrs. Cross became a more zealous and active Christian than she had ever been before. She constantly visited a female prayer meeting, and several times officiated as leader of a large female class. But there was nothing Pharisaic in her piety. Always and every where she carried with her that same cheerful temper which so eminently characterized her earlier life. She was universally beloved, and left a sweet savor of evangelical goodness wherever she moved.

Among her more intimate friends were Mr. George Cooke, the artist, and his amiable lady. In the company of these excellent Christians she took the greatest pleasure, and the ardor of their friendship attested their lofty estimate of her character. During

the fatal prevalence of the yellow fever in New Orleans, they wrote repeatedly from Virginia; and when they received intelligence of her death, they mourned as for a sister. Mr. Cooke has since rejoined her in Paradise, and his desolate widow still sweetens the hours of her solitude by the recollection of her friendship.

These, however, were not her only friends. In the same beloved catalogue I might record many other names, ornaments in society and in the church. She enjoyed the esteem and confidence of all classes. Her glowing fancy and sparkling wit rendered her a favorite with the young, while her intelligence and piety won for her the affectionate deference of maturer years. She was, at once, the charm of the social circle, and an example in the church of God. During the whole period of our union, I am not aware that she ever made an enemy; and whatever prejudice might exist against her in the mind of a stranger, the first interview generally accomplished its removal.

During her residence in New Orleans, Mrs. Cross devoted herself earnestly to the education of "The Dear Little Poetess." Felicia was a faithful student, and made great proficiency. Her studies were Arithmetic, Astronomy, Botany and French, in each of which she recited a lesson every day. This, of course, occupied a large share of Mrs. Cross' time; but the yoke was easy, and the burden light; and such was her love for the little pupil, and such