The other route from Washington City to the Virginia Springs is by
railroad to Harper's Ferry, 104 miles. Stopping at this place, the
traveller has an opportunity of viewing the "Passage of the Potomac
through the Blue Ridge," which, says Mr. Jefferson, "is one of the most
stupendous scenes in nature. You stand on a very high point of land; on
your right up comes the Shenandoah, having ranged along the foot of the
mountain 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 hurries our senses into the
opinion that this earth has been created in time; 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
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, 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 clefts, a small catch of smooth
blue horizon, at an infinite distance in the plain country, inviting
you, as it were, from the riot and tumult warring around, to pass
through the breach and participate of the calm below. There the eye
ultimately composes itself, and that way, too, the road happens
actually to lead. You cross the Potomac above the junction, pass along
its side through the base of the mountain for three miles, its terrible
precipices hanging in fragments over you, and within about twenty miles
reach Fredericktown, and the fine country round that. The scene is
worth a voyage across the Atlantic, yet here, as in the neighbourhood
of the Natural Bridge, are people who have passed their lives within
half a dozen miles, and have never been to survey these monuments of a
war between rivers and mountains, which must have shaken the earth
itself to its centre.'
"From Harper's Ferry, we take the cars to Charlestown, 10 miles.
Leaving the cars at this place, an opportunity is afforded of visiting