An extract from the unpublished Journal of a Tourist.
The third and last mountain over which the traveller passes, as he
proceeds from Fincastle to the Sweet Springs, is Peter's
Mountain--here called the Sweet Spring Mountain. This is, on several
accounts, one of the most remarkable mountains in Virginia. It is
remarkable, in the first place, for the appearance of regularity which
it presents to the eye of the traveller, when viewed from the west. It
extends sixty or seventy miles, between Jackson river on the north,
and New river on the south, apparently in a straight line, and of
nearly a uniform elevation. But this is not its whole extent. The
mountain north of Jackson river, and that south of New river, are
evidently continuations of the same mountain, and exhibit the same
unbroken and regular appearance. While on the east there are numerous
spurs extending from it in every direction, there is nothing of the
kind observable on the west. Were it not for the magnitude of this
mountain, its elevation, and its peculiar structure, we might readily
have imagined it to be, like the Chinese wall, the work of man,
constructed by the line and the plummet, in a former age, as a bulwark
of defence, by some hardier race than ours; but these point us to the
heavens for its great original.
As we looked back upon it from the valley on its west, our thoughts
reverted to the period, when the red men of the forest took up the
line of march, and relinquished the east to the peaceable possession
of their treacherous invaders. Here, it was natural to suppose, they
halted, and pitched their tents, and constructed their villages, and
began again to feel as though they were "monarchs of all they
surveyed." As they looked upon the mountain behind them, feelings of
security would be restored, and they would consider this mountain as a
barrier, reared by the Great Spirit for their protection.
"It is true, the white men made them wings--they flapped the winds,
and passed over the wide waters, and up the big rivers. They gathered
on the plains--they cleared the land, and made it theirs. But their
wings were made for the waters, and not for the rugged mountains--and
their feet are tender--they cannot encounter the flinty rock. Here,
then, shall the waves of pride and oppression be stayed. Here may our
wives and our children once more sit them down secure from foes, and
build their fires, and gather their nuts, while we chase the deer and
the buffalo in the far off west." Such we may suppose to have been the
reflections of some savage chieftain, _nescius auræ fallacis_, as he
looked upon the lofty, and seemingly interminable mountain bulwark
before him. But, if such they were, they proved deceptive. A few
revolving years passed away, and the white man was again on his
borders. His track was seen on the mountain, and the stroke of his
axe, and the shrill sound of his rifle were heard in the hollows. A
few years more, and the Indian again disappeared, and the white man
stood in his place--and the green grass grew, and the corn-blade
rustled, and the farm house was seen, where once stood the rude
villages, in which the chieftains had told the tale of the white man's
fraud, and of their own and their father's wrong, and their own and
their father's valor.
The circumstance which, more than any other, renders this mountain
remarkable, is its intersection with that chain of mountains known as
the Alleghany, which divides the waters that flow east into the
Atlantic, from those which flow west into the Ohio and Mississippi. At
about an equal distance between the Sweet Springs and Peterton, or the
Grey Sulphur, the Alleghany dips under this mountain, and emerges
again on its eastern side. The principal branches of the James river,
head on the west of Peter's Mountain, but east of the Alleghany; while
New river, the principal branch of the Great Kanawha, arises far to
the east of Peter's Mountain, though west of the Alleghany. The waters
of the Warm, Hot and Sweet Springs pass off to the ocean through the
James river; while those of the White, Salt, Red and Grey Sulphur
communicate with the Ohio, through the Kanawha.
This mountain, though uniform in its outline, is sufficiently
variegated in other respects. In some places it sustains heavy
forests, and is arable nearly to its summit; while in other places it
is nearly denuded, sustaining only a stinted shrubbery. In some
places, the large masses of sandstone which project near its summit,
exhibit the most grotesque and romantic appearance. In the
neighborhood of the Hot and Warm Springs, there are several very
picturesque views. There is one in particular, which seen at the
distance of three, four or five miles, has the appearance of a village
in ruins, with some of its public edifices standing, and numerous
villas or country mansions in a dilapidated state, scattered around
it. In the skirts of this rocky village, is what appears to be an
extensive burying-ground, with its vaults and tomb-stones, protecting
the dust of the dead from the unhallowed tread of the living. In other
places, the projections are less extensive, and resemble fortified
outposts. As one gazes on such scenes, the mind is involuntarily led
back to former ages, and the spectator is apt to fancy that he views
one of the castles or fortified places, in which were transacted the
tragical events of which he had heard or read in the records of a
feudal age.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.