Two of the boldest bluffs are called the Deer's Walk, (not because deer do _not_ walk there,) and the Eagle's Nest.

The latter I visited one glorious morning; it was that of the fourth of July, and certainly I think I had never felt so happy that I was born in America.

Woe to all country folks that never saw this spot, never swept an enraptured gaze over the prospect that stretched beneath.

I do believe Rome and Florence are suburbs compared to this capital of Nature's art.
The bluff was decked with great bunches of a scarlet variety of the milkweed, like cut coral, and all starred with a mysterious-looking dark flower, whose cup rose lonely on a tall stem.

This had, for two or three days, disputed the ground with the lupine and phlox.