LINVILLE FALLS 347 
the huckleberries grow. Thanks, oh, sun ! — there is 
something altogether lovely in falling thus asleep 
against one's judgment. 
There are "chimneys" over the edge of the preci- 
pice, whose tops have been conquered by brave little 
fir trees, and mossy things and a few flowers. And 
the precipice itself, do you realize that you are hang- 
ing your feet over the edge of the mountains — that 
the wall across the river belongs to the foothill form- 
ations? 
What a sweet place Is this edge of the high world ! 
On a mountain-top all things unite to smell sweet, 
and on none more than on this. Crisp moss crackles 
whenever you move, hard-leaved, red-stemmed 
huckleberries crowd the crevices of the rocks, and 
Dendrium buxophyllum, whose thick carpet is seen to 
be made of tiny imitations of rhododendron bushes 
shares the crannies with other lovely growths. But 
everywhere, and by far the choicest thing here, is a 
species of dwarf rhododendron with a charming 
architectural structure, the curving brown stems 
crowned with upward-pointing, curled little leaves, 
green above, the under side dusted with a rich brown 
bloom, the red-tinged veins and red petioles giving 
a red flush to the whole plant. Seed pods on these 
charming shrubs tell of bloom earlier in the season, 
and who would not be here then! It would be hard 
to Imagine a wilder, sweeter place than this edge, 
overlooking the gorge. To be here fills you with 
contentment. You Imagine you would like to stay 
with the rabbits the rest of the summer. 
