HARPER’S FERRY.

The scenery at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia, is perhaps the most picturesque

in America. The view given in the accompanying engraving is taken from

the Blue Ridge, from whence the tourist enjoys the finest prospect of

this delightful spot. Lofty as the summit is, and difficult as the

ascent proves to the uninitiated, the magnificence of the view from the

top of the ridge amply compensates the adventurer for his trouble.

Immediately beneath your feet are seen the Potomac and Shenandoah

enveloping the beautiful village of Harper’s Ferry in their folds, and

then joining, their waters flow on in silent beauty, until lost behind

the gorges of the mountains. Far away in the distance stretch a

succession of woody plains, diversified with farm-houses and villages,

and gradually growing more and more indistinct, until they fade away

into the summits of the Alleghanies. But we cannot do better than give

President Jefferson’s unrivalled description of this scene. “The

passage,” he says, “of the Potomac, through the Blue Ridge, is, perhaps,

one of the most stupendous scenes in nature. You stand on a very high

point of land; on your right comes up the Shenandoah, having ranged

along the foot of the mountains a hundred miles to seek a vent, on your

left approaches the Potomac, in quest of a passage also: in the moment

of their junction, they rush together against the mountain, rend it

asunder and pass off to the sea. The first glance of this scene harries

our senses into the opinion that the mountains were formed first, that

the rivers began to flow afterwards, that, in this place particularly

they have been dammed up by the Blue Ridge of mountains, and have formed

an ocean which filled the whole valley,—that continuing to rise, they

have at length broken over at this spot, and have torn the mountain down

from its summit to its base. The piles of rock on each hand, but

particularly on the Shenandoah—the evident marks of their disrupture

and avulsion from their beds by the most powerful agents of nature,

corroborate the impression. But the distant finishing which nature has

given to the picture, is of a very different character; it is a true

contrast to the foreground; it is as placid and delightful as that is

wild and tremendous,—for the mountain being cloven asunder, she

presents to your eye, through the cleft, a small closet of smooth blue

horizon, at an infinite distance in the plain country, inviting you, as

it were, from the riot and tumult roaring around, to pass through the

breach and participate in the calm below. Here the eye ultimately

composes itself, and that way, too, the road happens actually to lead.

You cross the Potomac just above its junction, pass along its side

through the base of the mountain for three miles, its terrible

precipices hanging over you, and, within about twenty miles, reach

Fredericktown and the fine country round that. This scene is worth a

voyage across the Atlantic.”

Enthusiastic as Jefferson is in this description, he does not exceed the

truth. Foreigners have borne ample testimony to the splendor of the

prospect from the top of the ridge at Harper’s Ferry, admitting that

there are few scenes in Europe which surpass it.

It is time to do justice to American scenery. Hundreds of our citizens

annually cross the Atlantic for the purpose of visiting the scenery of

Europe, under the mistaken supposition that their own country affords

nothing to compensate them for the trouble of a visit. This ignorance is

less general than formerly, but it still prevails to a considerable

extent. Yet no country affords finer or more magnificent scenery than

America. Go up the Hudson, travel along the banks of the Susquehanna,

cross the Alleghanies or ascend the Catskill, loiter over the fairy-like

waters of lake Horicon, and you will cease to believe that America

affords no scenery to reward the traveller. We say nothing of Niagara or

Trenton falls, or of the mountain scenery scattered all over the south.

We say nothing of the vast prairies of the west, of the boundless

melancholy expanse of the Mississippi, of the magnificent scenery on the

route to St. Anthony’s Falls. Let our people visit these before going

abroad. Let them learn to do justice to the country of their birth.

* * * * *

Graham's Magazine, Vol. XX, No. 2, February 1842 · 第 5 / 68 题