Whilst at the Salt Sulphur, I found it necessary, for a time, to
exchange that for a water of a somewhat different character; and as
the Blue Sulphur had begun to attract considerable attention, I
determined to resort thither. Accordingly, I took the stage for
Lewisburg, twenty-five miles distant from the Salt Sulphur, and within
thirteen miles of the Blue. We travelled over the White Sulphur road
as far as the splendid Greenbrier bridge on this turnpike, where we
were landed at a hotel, to await the arrival of the Fincastle stage,
to carry us on to Lewisburg. It was already dark before the stage came
up, and although but three miles of our road lay before us, yet the
whole distance was ascending, so that we could not travel out of the
slowest walk. We however reached Lewisburg in time to discuss the
merits of an excellent supper, and get into comfortable lodgings by a
very reasonable bed time.
I was detained at this place for want of a conveyance to the Blue
Sulphur, there being as yet no regular stage. The time, however,
passed off pleasantly. Lewisburg contains about seven or eight hundred
inhabitants; its situation is elevated--the scenery around quite
picturesque; and, if the improvements progress as they have done for
the past few years, it will soon become a very pretty village. This
place is much frequented, during the spring season, by visiters at the
White Sulphur--the distance being only nine miles, over a smooth, and
for the most part, beautiful road.
After two days, I succeeded in obtaining a horse, and on the following
morning set off, in company with a gentleman of the neighborhood, on
the remaining thirteen miles to the Blue Sulphur. The way usually
travelled by carriages is circuitous; consequently, we struck across
through the country, on the most direct route to the Springs. Our road
was exceedingly rough and hilly, without anything peculiarly
interesting. Indeed, we were so completely imbosomed among the hills
and forests, that nothing could be seen except the long ridge of the
Muddy Creek Mountain, which lay before us. Before reaching the base,
the road had dwindled into a blind bridle path, winding amongst the
spurs of the mountain; and on ascending, it became so precipitious,
and so covered with loose and rolling stones, as to render it almost
impassable. We at length succeeded in reaching the summit--not however
without having been obliged to dismount occasionally, and allow our
horses to clamber after us over the worst parts of the way. We then
travelled for two miles along the top of the mountain, over a level
and beautiful road; after which we descended by a rough and rocky
path, similar to that on the opposite side. A few miles more, over a
fertile and cultivated country, brought us into the vicinity of the
Blue Sulphur, or in the language of the country, to the Muddy Creek
settlement.
As the accommodations at the Spring were already occupied, we rode up
to an old fashioned log house, with a long piazza in front, surrounded
by lombardy poplars and apple trees, and screened from the road by an
intervening hill, and obtained accommodations with its kind and
pleasant occupants. No part of my time among the mountains, was
attended with more peculiar or deeper interest than that passed in the
Muddy Creek settlement. Every thing about this region is calculated to
bring one back to the early days of our country. The habits and
customs are all after the unpretending fashion of the pioneers; and
human character is here seen in its native simplicity. Refinement,
with its luxuries and follies, has not yet penetrated this secluded
region, to corrupt the plain and simple customs of its generous,
open-hearted and upright yeomanry. Here too, as a friend remarked, we
realize, to some extent, the amazing and almost startling rapidity
with which our nation has sprung into existence. But a few years ago
this was the undisputed home of the Indian. This identical house was
once the last house on the frontier of civilized America; and one of
the family now alive, was among the little band who first ventured
across the Alleghany mountains, and carried the sounds of civilized
life into these desolate wilds. Hers was the last family on the
western frontier. Not a civilized being stood on the wide waste of
wilderness which stretched far away to the shores of the Pacific. But,
with unexampled rapidity, civilization has transformed the whole face
of the country; and this old lady, who thought she "had gotten to the
end of the world when she got to Greenbrier," has, within her own
recollection, seen a nation springing up west of her, already putting
on the vigor and energy of mature years, and outstripping the nations
of the eastern world.
This interesting old lady, is indeed a complete "chronicler of the
olden time." Her attire is in perfect keeping with her character. She
still preserves the simple style of the by-gone century, uncorrupted
by the supposed improvement of a later generation. The close cut cap,
scarcely concealing the silvered locks of age--the muslin
handkerchief, drawn neatly over the shoulders, covering a part of the
plain tight sleeves, and confined under the girdle of a long-waisted
tea-colored gown, were admirably suited to the bending, yet dignified
and venerable figure which they adorned. Then to sit during the
pensive hours of evening in the old piazza, overlooking the garden a
few feet before us, which was the site of one of the earliest forts,
the fields and the peaks, the scenes of frightful Indian massacres,
and listen to her narratives of the perils and trials of the pioneers
of Greenbrier, is a treat which a few years will probably put it out
of the power of any to enjoy. Her graphic delineations of the horrors
of a frontier life, sometimes excited our imagination to such a pitch,
as to render it difficult to compose the body to repose at the
accustomed time of retirement, or to restrain the mind from frightful
dreams during the sleeping hours. The whole Muddy Creek settlement
abounds with Indian tales. Every mountain, knob and hollow, is
notorious as having been the scene of some bloody deed or memorable
exploit of the red men of the forest, as they made the last struggle,
before giving way to the invaders, and leaving forever their native
wilds.
But our present destination is the Blue Sulphur. The distance thither
from our house is rather more than a mile. The intermediate region is
level low ground, bounded on each side, at some distance, by a ridge
of mountain. These two ridges gradually converge, until they pass the
Spring about one hundred yards, where a third ridge brings a sweep
immediately across the line of their direction, and closes that end of
the valley. The space about the Spring is a perfect level, amply
extensive, and admirably adapted for improvements on a large and
handsome scale.
The Blue Sulphur, like many of the valuable mineral springs of this
state, has heretofore been known only as a place of neighborhood
resort. A few diminutive log cabins had been erected by the farmers of
the adjacent country, who, after the labors of harvest, were
accustomed to bring their families, with a wagon load of goods and
chattels, and take up their residence here during one or two of the
summer months. The virtues of the Muddy Creek Springs have long been
known and esteemed by these visiters. A year or two since the property
was purchased by a company, who are now providing extensive and most
inviting accommodations. I do not know that I can be charged with
disloyalty to my native state, in rejoicing that these Springs have
partly fallen into the hands of northern men. Our own citizens have
generally shown such an astonishing want of energy in carrying on
these valuable watering places, that we believe it to be better that
one of them has come into the possession of those, who are willing, at
any expense, to do it and the public justice; and who, in proportion
to the time they have owned the property, have shown a spirit of
improvement greatly surpassing that of the proprietors of most of the
other Springs. One of the first changes under the auspices of the new
administration, was the substitution of the title of Blue Sulphur for
the more ignoble appellation of Muddy Creek Springs.
The company, immediately after the purchase of the property, commenced
their improvements, and at the period of our visit, were prosecuting
them with a spirit worthy of admiration. These improvements consist of
a long and imposing brick hotel, three stories in height, at the upper
extremity of the valley, and facing the entrance to the Springs. This
is flanked on each side by a row of brick cottages, which at their
outward extremities, unite with similar ranges, running parallel with
the bases of the mountains and each other, until they nearly reach the
Spring, forming together three sides of a hollow square. The
intermediate lawn, can by a little cultivation and exercise of taste,
be rendered very beautiful. A temple, surpassing in appearance that of
any of the other watering places, is to be erected over the Spring,
and the reservoir, &c. to be fitted up in corresponding style. The
Spring is large, discharging a quantity of water nearly equal to the
White Sulphur. The sediment from which the establishment has derived
its modern name, is of a blue or rich dark purple color.
At the time I visited the Blue Sulphur, some of the new buildings were
partly finished, and a tavern keeper from the neighborhood had opened
a boarding house on the ground; and although the accommodations were
quite rough, there were at one time as many as seventy-five visiters.
Most of these were citizens of Charlestown, who had fled from the
cholera, which was then raging on the Kanawha.
The mountains in this vicinity abound with game, and accordingly,
hunting is the favorite amusement of the visiters. Almost every
morning a company started, with hounds and horns, on a "deer drive,"
and they seldom returned without bringing with them one of these noble
animals. On one morning, a fine buck was driven down, and shot within
a few feet of the Spring. Others of the visiters make excursions
through the mountains, to enjoy the attractions which have been
lavished with such profusion on this section of country. Perhaps one
of the most pleasant of these, is a ride of some ten or fifteen miles
to a spring which has lately come to light, and which for a sulphur
spring is rather _sui generis_. It was discovered by an old farmer,
who was engaged in boring for salt water. When he had sunk his shaft
to the depth of some fifty feet, the water bursted up, and rushed from
the opening of the well. But instead of salt, it was sulphur water;
and it has continued to run with unabated freedom to the present time.
Little is as yet known of its peculiar properties. It deposits a white
sediment. The proprietor, I understand, will neither make improvements
himself, nor allow others to do so. Perhaps, however, we can dispense
with his spring. There are enough already improved, among these
mountains, to meet the case of almost any invalid. Among these, the
Blue Sulphur is by no means the least worthy of notice; and we must
not therefore leave it, before we have said something of its medicinal
qualities.
Those who know most of the Blue Sulphur, say that it combines the
valuable properties of the White and Red Sulphur. This is probably
true to some extent. The Blue Sulphur operates upon the liver with
great energy, and at the same time acts as a tonic. These are,
respectively, qualities of the White and Red Sulphur. The White
Sulphur, although it scarcely ever fails to rectify derangements of
the liver, depletes, and generally to some extent, produces debility.
The latter effect, we believe, is never produced by the Blue Sulphur,
owing probably to its tonic properties. We do not know, however, how
far either has claim to preference. As to the similarity between this
Spring and the Red Sulphur, we suppose it ascertained that wherever
there is a derangement of the sanguiferous system, except where the
lungs are affected, the action of the Blue Sulphur is equally, if not
more salutary, than that of the Red. This water is, however, very
exciting; perhaps even more so than the White Sulphur, and should
consequently, like that Spring, be avoided by pulmonary invalids.
There is also an approximation in the action of the Blue and Salt
Sulphur waters. Both of these Springs are efficacious in affections of
the stomach. Where the invalid retains a considerable degree of vigor,
or where the system is irritable, the Salt Sulphur would be decidedly
preferable, as that water occasions very little of the unpleasant, and
in such cases, perhaps injurious excitement caused by the Blue Sulphur
water. Where dyspepsy has advanced so far as to occasion extreme
debility, probably the Blue Sulphur should be resorted to, at least
for a while, as that water would sustain and strengthen the system, at
the same time that it removed the disease. These remarks are the
result of the observation of the practical effects of these waters,
and of the experience of others, without pretension to professional
skill. We believe, however, that they will be found strictly correct.
The similarity between these Springs to which we have alluded, need
not be injurious to either, whilst the probabilities in favor of the
restoration of an individual who comes to these mountains for health,
is increased by this circumstance. It is the opinion of those who have
been most at these watering places, that after two weeks constant use
of any water, it begins to lose its power on the system.[1] If the use
is discontinued for a few days, or if you resort to another Spring for
a short time, a return to the original Spring is attended with the
same effects as when first resorted to. A variety of waters,
therefore, even when their qualities are to some extent similar, is a
decided advantage. The invalid who has gotten his system charged at
one Spring, can resort to another of a sufficiently different
character to secure the object of a change, and yet resembling the
original water sufficiently to suit the necessities of his case. A
turnpike will soon be completed from Lewisburg to the Blue Sulphur,
and again connecting with the Kanawha turnpike, west of the Springs,
which will render this place easily accessible.
[Footnote 1: Perhaps the Red Sulphur is an exception.]
After a sojourn of a week, I again turned my face towards the Salt
Sulphur. I had as a companion an intelligent gentleman, extensively
acquainted with the country; and in accordance with his proposition,
we determined to reach that place by a route somewhat different, and
offering more natural attractions than that by which I had come over.
In the course of the evening, we passed through some of the finest
farms in Western Virginia. I do not believe that the prairies of the
"far West" can exhibit more luxuriant fields of corn than some of
those in this section of Greenbrier. We passed the Muddy Creek
Mountain at a _gap_, and our way, although little more than an
indistinct bridle path, was more pleasant than that by which I had
before crossed. The view from the highest point on this gap, almost
defies description.
From the section of country which we had left behind us, rose Keeny's
Nob, a huge peak upon which the Indians used to light signal fires,
and which derived its name from some romantic circumstance--rearing
its summit far above the adjacent mountains, and spreading out its
swelling sides and the projections of its base over the neighboring
country; from this, and continuing round to the right, before us, were
alternate ridges and vallies, covered with dense forest, as yet
apparently untouched by the woodman's axe, and only broken by the
Greenbrier river, whose high and bleak naked cliffs could be seen at
the distance of some miles. Beyond, was Peter's Mountain, coming down
from the west, and running off to the east, in a straight unbroken
line. Immediately before us, were the variegated fields of a few rich
grazing farms. Farther on, the mountain upon which Lewisburg is
situated, excluding the White Sulphur from the view; and in the
distance, the "back bone" of the Alleghany, which you cross five miles
beyond the White Sulphur on the turnpike, whose line could be
occasionally discerned as it wound among the spurs of the mountain. To
the left lay some cultivated country, terminated by ridges upon ridges
of mountains. The sun was in the last hour of his daily course, and
with his evening rays illumined the hills, giving the varied hues,
from the brightest to the deepest green, to the waste of "silent
wilderness" which stretched far away to that quarter of the horizon.
We were soon, however, obliged to relinquish this scene, combining so
much of the grand, beautiful and sublime, and hasten down the
mountain, in order to get as far as possible through the worst of the
hills and hollows before night should overtake us.
I took the stage at Lewisburg next morning, and by noon arrived at the
Salt Sulphur, which was now thronged, and exhibiting all the life, and
bustle, and fashion, which crowds of the gay and wealthy bring with
them. Every garret and domicil about the establishment, capable of
being slept in, had been called into requisition the night before. We
heard, before reaching the Springs, that the proprietors, on the
previous evening, had sent on to stop visiters bound thither, in
Union, until quarters should be vacated at the Salt Sulphur. All the
crowding, however, could not interfere with the perfect system of this
establishment. Every thing went on with as much regularity, and in the
same comfortable style, as when there were but fifty visiters. After
spending a few days very pleasantly at this place, I secured a seat in
Shank's fine line of coaches for the Sweet Springs, about twenty-two
miles southeast of the Salt Sulphur.
The road was generally good, and the country more beautiful and
picturesque, but less romantic, than any we had seen in this section
of country. Our driver was quite a rapid traveller, and by the aid of
fine teams, he carried us over the ground at very good speed, and
before dinner, had landed us in front of the old white tavern at the
Sweet Springs.
The crowd here surpassed, if possible, that at the Salt Sulphur. On
our arrival, it seemed exceedingly doubtful whether we could remain on
the premises at all. Every room on the ground was full. Many of the
visiters lodged on the bar-room tables, and on the benches of an old
court-house, at present the Spring's church. By dint of perseverance,
and the aid of friends, I at length succeeded in getting a cot
squeezed between two of five or six others, in an old log school-house
on the outskirts of the premises. The accommodations at the Sweet
Springs are generally very good; the fare excellent. The crowd was at
this time so great, as to render it impossible that every one should
be comfortable. The usual dining-room was nothing like large enough
for the company. Two long additional tables were set in the bar-room.
The "Sweet Springs" are considered by some equal in beauty to the
White Sulphur. Nature has perhaps done as much here as at any watering
place among the mountains; but I do not think the improvements or the
arrangement of the buildings at all equal to those at the White
Sulphur. The extensive undulating lawn, and grove of noble oaks--the
cottages on the open green, or peering from amidst the trees, do
indeed present a beautiful scene. But the latter are scattered in rows
or groups over the ground without any regular order, and the lawn has
never undergone any of the operations of art. The Spring rises under
the piazza of a low and long house, at the foot of the hillock on
which the tavern stands, and in a hollow formed by this, with the
small hill on which the cabins are principally built. The reservoir is
a circle of about five feet diameter, surrounded by a railing two or
three feet high. Great quantities of carbonic acid gas are constantly
emitted, which comes bubbling up through the water, giving it somewhat
the appearance of boiling.
The "Sweet Springs" derived its name from the taste of the water. I
thought it, however, a complete misnomer. The taste of the water is
very singular, and at first rather unpleasant--but containing,
according to our perception, very little sweetness. The house
adjoining the Spring contains the baths; the finest cold medicinal
baths, probably, in the country. The water rises from a gravelled
bottom, over perhaps the whole extent of the baths, which are very
spacious.
The Sweet Spring water is a powerful tonic; and after the system has
been thoroughly cleansed at the other Springs, this is an admirable
place for recruiting flesh and strength before leaving the mountains.
The same precaution given to pulmonary invalids, is even more
necessary here than at the White and Blue Sulphur. The water is highly
exciting, and consequently very injurious to such persons.
As soon as possible after arriving here, I obtained a seat in the
stage for Fincastle--and on a fine morning in the latter part of
August, rendered more balmy and delightful by the mountain breezes, we
set off, in company with two other coaches, for the Valley. The press
of passengers in that direction was so great, that notwithstanding the
two extras, our coach carried, including all sizes, fourteen besides
the driver. We commenced ascending the Sweet Spring Mountain, soon
after setting out, and enjoyed the beautiful view of the Valley of the
Springs and the surrounding country, which is afforded from its
summit. Two other mountains still lay in our way. The second of the
three if called the "Seven Mile Mountain," that being the distance
passed in crossing it. On reaching its base, we chartered two
additional horses, and drove "coach and six" to the top, where we left
them, and with the other coaches went rattling and thundering down the
mountain. We soon after passed the last of this formidable trio, and
after a pleasant drive through the flourishing county of Botetourt,
reached Fincastle. At this place we intersected the "Valley Line,"
which carried us over the great Natural Bridge and down the Valley of
Virginia.
The writer did not visit the Warm and Hot Springs, and consequently
does not notice them.
Remark the use which Shakspeare always makes of his bold villains, as
vehicles for expressing opinions and conjectures of a nature too
hazardous for a wise man to put forth directly as his own, or from any
sustained character.--_Coleridge's Table Talk_.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
_Extracts from the Auto-biography of Pertinax Placid_.