w--where he died. A stream of considerable size
plunges over a precipice of about forty feet into a basin fourteen
feet deep by as many wide. Into this he fell, probably at night."

"But how was it possible to bring a dead body up these steeps?" Sylvia
says, addressing Mr. Burnett.

"We brought it in a sheet slung to the top of stout poles," he
answers. "Then it were carried down to Asheville, and then brought up
again, and buried there"--he nods to the peak above us.

"In the warmth of their great friendship and admiration, people
thought that he ought to rest in the midst of the scenes he had
explored so fearlessly and loved so well," says Eric. . . . Before
long we gain the top, and the first object on which our eyes rest
is--the grave. . . . . . . .

Besides the grave, the summit is entirely bare.

The view is so immense that one is forced to regard it in sections.
Far to the north east lies Virginia, from which the long waving line
of the Blue Ridge comes, and passes directly under the Black, making a
point of junction, near which it towers into the steep Pinnacle and
stately Graybeard--so called from the white beard which it wears when
a frozen cloud has iced its rhododendrons. From our greater eminence
we overlook the Blue Ridge entirely, and see the country below
spreading into azure distance, with white spots which resolve
themselves through the glasses into villages, and mountains clearly
defined. The Linville range--through which the Linville River forces
its way in a gorge of wonderful grandeur--is in full view, with a
misty cloud lying on the surface of Table Rock, while the peculiar
form of the Hawk's Bill stands forth in marked relief. Beyond, blue
and limitless as the ocean, the undulating plain of the more level
country extends until it melts into the sky.

As the glance leaves this view, and, sweeping back over the Blue
Ridge, follows the main ledge of the Black, one begins to appreciate
the magnitude of this great mountain. For miles along its dark crest
appear a succession of cone-like peaks, and, as it sweeps around
westwardly, it divides into two great branches--one of which
terminates in the height on which we stand, while numerous spurs lead
off from its base; the other stretches southward, forming the splendid
chain of Craggy. At our feet lie the elevated counties of Yancey and
Mitchell, with their surfaces so unevenly mountainous that one wonders
how men could have been daring enough to