The writer had tried it often.

Picture to yourself, dear reader the situation and let your own imagination do the rest.

It can never come up to the reality.
In the morning, as Rogers and I were about to start, several of the oldest men came to us with their addresses and wished us to forward them to their families if we ever got within the reach of mails.

These men shed tears, and we did also as we parted.

We turned silently away and again took up our march.
As we went down the canon we came to one place where it was so narrow, that a man or a poor ox could barely squeeze through between the rocks, and in a few miles more reached the open level plain.