“If we can get to the top of this rock, there is a fine table land well protected from the wind, which I find is rising, and well shaded from the sun by pine trees, and also commanding one of the most magnificent panoramic prospects in the country. That table land will be an excellent place to dine,” exclaimed Mr. Allison, while he and his friends were getting ready to leave the boat. They found a way to the top of the steep; and the gentlemen climbed carefully, helping the ladies up along with them. Their attendants followed with the hampers of provisions. When the whole party arrived at the summit they found a level piece of ground covered with dry grass, and encircled except upon the river side, with a girdle of pine trees. “It seems made for the very purpose we are about to put it to,” said the lively old lady, as she sank panting, but joyous upon the ground. “Oh, what a stupendous—what an overpowering breadth of view!” exclaimed Elfie, in honest wonder and admiration, as she reached the summit and looked around, letting her eyes rove from East to West and from North to South. “I feel now for the first time in my life that I actually live on the outside of the earth’s surface; and I see for myself that it is really round; and I even begin to realize that it is a vast globe rolling through the immensity of space!” “It looks dreadfully lonely though,” observed a young lady, with a shudder. “Yes—what a solitude! Far as the eye can reach on every side a forest of autumn foliage, with only here and there a grey rock looming up, and the river rolling deeply through it all. Not a house, not a chimney, nor even smoke, to indicate human habitations near!” While the company were gazing upon the vast panorama around them, and descanting upon its beauties, some of the attendants were building fires on the ground, hanging kettles over the blaze, and putting the hares, quails and partridges, which were already dressed for the gridiron, upon the coals; others were laying the table-cloth and arranging the dinner service. Mr. Allison having seen to the careful transportation of his costly wines, now joined the group on the edge of the precipice. Looking down upon the chaos of grey rock below them he smiled and quoted: “‘The ragged rascals rage round rugged rocks.’ Now, I wonder what on earth put that choice specimen of ingenious alliteration into my head?” he laughingly inquired. “The ‘wugged wockth’ of courthe,” lisped Mr. Billingcoo. “Yes; but where are the ‘ragged rascals?’” laughed Allison. “Vewy twue! Here are the ‘wugged wockth,’ but _where_ are the ‘wagged wathcalth?’” repeated the dandy. The question was answered by a yell more terrible and ferocious than ever startled a sleeping backwoods settlement when a tribe of ruthless savages woke it up to slaughter. And forth from the cover of the pine woods leaped a band of fierce brigands, brandishing their bayonets.