About three days' ride from the Natural Bridge brought Mr. Todd and his
companions to a place called Port Republic, about twenty miles from the
town of Staunton. Here they prepared themselves to visit this other
natural curiosity.
The shower was now over, which had wet us to the skin--the sun was
pouring down his most scorching rays--the heavy thunder had gone by; we
threw around our delighted eyes, and beheld near us the lofty Alleghany
rearing his shaggy head. The south branch of the Shenandoah river, with
its banks covered with beautiful trees, was murmuring at our feet--a
lovely plain stretched below us, as far as the eye could reach; and we,
with our guide, were now standing about half way up a hill nearly two
hundred feet high, and so steep that a biscuit may be thrown from its
top into the river at its foot--we were standing at the mouth of WIER'S
CAVE. This cavern derives its name from _Barnet Wier_, who discovered it
in the year 1804. It is situated near Madison's Cave, so celebrated;
though the latter cannot be compared with the former.
There were three of us, besides our guide, with lighted torches, and our
loins girded, now ready to descend into the cave. We took our torches in
our left hands and entered. The mouth was so small that we could descend
only by creeping, one after another. A descent of almost twenty yards
brought us into the first room. The cave was exceedingly cold, dark, and
silent, like the chambers of death. In this manner we proceeded, now
descending thirty or forty feet--now ascending as high--now creeping on
our hands and knees, and now walking in large rooms--the habitations of
solitude. The mountain seems to be composed almost wholly of limestone,
and by this means the cave is lined throughout with the most beautiful
incrustations and stalactites of carbonated lime, which are formed by
the continual dripping of the water through the roof. These stalactites
are of various and elegant shapes and colours, often bearing a striking
resemblance to animated nature. At one place we saw over our heads what
appeared to be a _waterfall_ of the most beautiful kind. Nor could the
imagination be easily persuaded that it was not a reality. You could see
the water boiling and dashing down,--see its white spray and foam--but
it was all solid limestone.
Thus we passed onward in this world of solitude--now stopping to admire
the beauties of a single stalactite--now wondering at the magnificence
of a large room--now creeping through narrow passages, hardly wide
enough to admit the body of a man,--and now walking in superb
galleries, until we came to the largest room, called WASHINGTON HALL.
This is certainly the most elegant room I ever saw. It is about two
hundred and seventy feet in length, about thirty-five in width, and
between thirty and forty feet high. The roof and sides are very
beautifully adorned by the tinsels which Nature has bestowed in the
greatest profusion, and which sparkle like the diamond, while surveyed
by the light of torches. The floor is flat, and smooth, and solid. I was
foremost of our little party in entering the room, and was not a little
startled as I approached the centre, to see a figure, as it were, rising
up before me out of the solid rock. It was not far from seven feet high,
and corresponded in every respect to the common idea of a ghost. It was
very white, and resembled a tall man clothed in a shroud. I went up to
it sideways, though I could not really expect to meet a ghost in a place
like this. On examination I found it was a very beautiful piece of the
carbonate of lime, very transparent, and very much in the shape of a
man. This is called WASHINGTON'S STATUE--as if Nature would do for this
hero what his delivered country has not done--rear a statue to his
memory.
Here an accident happened which might have been serious. One of our
party had purposely extinguished his light, lest we should not have
enough to last. My companion accidentally put out his light, and in
sport came and blew out mine. We were now about sixteen hundred feet
from daylight, with but one feeble light, which the falling water might
in a moment have extinguished. Add to this, that the person who held
this light was at some distance viewing some falling water.
"Conticuere omnes, intentique ora tenebant."
We, however, once more lighted our torches; but, had we not been able to
do so, we might, at our leisure, have contemplated the gloominess of the
cavern, for no one would have come to us till the next day. In one room
we found an excellent spring of water, which boiled up as if to slake
our thirst, then sunk into the mountain, and was seen no more. In
another room was a noble pillar, called the TOWER OF BABEL. It is
composed entirely of stalactites of lime, or, as the appearance would
seem to suggest, of petrified water. It is about thirty feet in
diameter, and a little more than ninety feet in circumference, and not
far from thirty feet high. There are probably millions of stalactites in
this one pillar.
Thus we wandered on in this world within a world, till we had visited
twelve very beautiful rooms, and as many creeping places, and had now
arrived at the end,--a distance from our entrance of between twenty-four
and twenty-five hundred feet; or, what is about its equal, half a mile
from the mouth. We here found ourselves exceedingly fatigued; but our
torches forbade us to tarry, and we once more turned our lingering steps
towards the common world. When we arrived again at Washington Hall, one
of our company three times discharged a pistol, whose report was truly
deafening; and as the sound reverberated and echoed through one room
after another till it died away in distance, it seemed like the moanings
of spirits. We continued our wandering steps till we arrived once more
at daylight, having been nearly three hours in the cavern. We were much
fatigued, covered with dirt, and in a cold sweat; yet we regretted to
leave it. From the farther end of the cave I gathered some handsome
stalactites, which I put into my portmanteau, and preserved as mementos
of that day's visit.
To compare the Natural Bridge and Cave together as objects of curiosity,
is exceedingly difficult. Many consider the _Bridge_ as the greatest
curiosity; but I think the _Cavern_ is. In looking at the Bridge we are
filled with awe; at the Cavern with delight. At the Bridge we have
several views that are awful; at the Cave hundreds that are pleasing. At
the Bridge you stand and gaze in astonishment; at the Cave awfulness is
lost in beauty, and grandeur is dressed in a thousand captivating forms.
At the Bridge you feel yourself to be _looking_ into another world; at
the Cave you find yourself already _arrived_ there. The one presents to
us a God who is very "wonderful in working;" the other exhibits the same
power, but with it is blended loveliness in a thousand forms. In each is
vastness. Greatness constitutes the whole of one; but the other is
elegant, as well as great. Of each we must retain lively impressions;
and to witness such displays of the Creator's power, must ever be
considered as happy events in our lives. While viewing scenes like
these, we must ever exalt the energy of creating power, and sink under
the thoughts of our own insignificance. The works of nature are
admirably well calculated to impress us deeply with a sense of the
mighty power of God, who can separate two mountains by a channel of
awfulness, or fill the bowels of a huge mountain with beauties, that
man, with all the aid of art, can only admire, but never imitate.
~The Christian Slave.~
We venture to extract another of Mr. Todd's Simple Sketches, so
charmingly are they described.
The sun had set, and I began to be anxious to find a place of rest for
the night, after a day's ride under a sultry sun. I was travelling in
South Carolina, and was now not far from a branch of the Cooper river.
The country here is a dead level, and its surface is covered with thinly
scattered pines. I came to an old church--it stood solitary; not a house
in sight: it was built of wood, and much decayed. The breezes of evening
were gently sighing through the tops of the long-leaved pines which
stood near; while still nearer stood several large live-oaks, which
spread out their aged arms, as if to shelter what was sacred. On their
limbs hung, in graceful folds, the long grey moss, as if a mantle of
mourning, waving over a few decayed tombs at the east side of the
church. These oaks give the place a very sombre and awful appearance;
they seemed to stand as silent mourners over the dust of generations
that had sunk into the grave, and waiting in solemn expectation that
others would soon come and lie beneath their shade in the long sleep of
death. The time of day, and the sacredness of the spot, were so
congenial to my own feelings, that I involuntarily stopped my horse.
My curiosity was now excited by seeing a very aged negro standing and
gazing steadily on a small decaying tomb. He seemed to be intent, and
did not observe me; his woolly locks were whitened by age; his
countenance was manly, though it bore the marks of sorrow; he was
leaning on his smooth-worn staff, the companion of many years. I was
somewhat surprised on seeing this aged African silently meditating among
the vestiges of the dead, and accordingly roused him from his reverie.
He started at first, but his confidence was soon gained. There is a
spring in the bosom of every Christian, which throws a joy into his
heart whenever he meets a fellow-christian during his pilgrimage here
below. I found the old negro to be an eminent Christian, and we were
soon acquainted. I inquired what motive induced him, at that hour of the
day, to visit these tombs. Instead of answering my question directly he
gave me the following account of himself, in broken language:--
About sixty years ago, this negro was living under his paternal roof in
Africa. He was the son of a chief of a small tribe, the pride of his
parents, and the delight of his countrymen; none could more dexterously
throw the dart; none more skilfully guide the fragile canoe over the
bosom of the deep. He was not far from twenty years of age, when, on a
fair summer's morn, he went in his little canoe to spend the day in
fishing. About noon he paddled his bark to the shore, and, under the
shade of a beautiful palmetto-tree, he reclined till the heat of
noon-day should be passed. He was young, healthy, and active; he knew
none whom he dreaded; he was a stranger to fear, and he dreamed only of
security, as he slept under the shade of his own native tree. Thus,
while our sky is encircled with the bow of happiness, we forget that it
may soon be overspread with darkness. When this African awoke, he found
his hands bound behind him, his feet fettered, and himself surrounded by
several white men, who were conveying him on board of their ship;--it
was a slave-ship. The vessel had her cargo completed, and was ready to
sail. As they were unfurling the sails, the son of Africa, with many
others of his countrymen, for the last time cast his eyes upon his
native shores. Futurity was dark,--was uncertain,--was despair. His
bosom thrilled with anguish, as he threw his last farewell look over the
plains of his native country. There was his native spot where his had
lived, there the home of his infancy and childhood, there the place
where he had inhaled his earliest breath--and to tear him from these,
seemed like breaking the very strings of his heart.
[Illustration]
After a melancholy passage, during which the African was forced to wear
double the irons to receive double the number of lashes, that any of
his companions received, on account of his refractory spirit, he was at
length landed and sold to a planter in the place where he now resides.
There is nothing new, nothing novel or interesting, that ever takes
place in the life of a slave--describe one day, and you write the
history of a slave. The sun, indeed, continues to roll over him; but it
sheds upon him no new joys, no new prospects, no new hopes. So it was
with the subject of this narrative. His master was naturally a man of a
very humane disposition; but his overseers were often little else than
compounds of vice and cruelty. In this situation the negro lost all his
natural independence and bravery. He often attempted to run away, but
was as often taken and punished. Having no cultivated mind to which he
could look for consolation--knowing of no change that was ever to take
place in his situation,--he settled down in gloominess. Often would he
send a silent sigh for the home of his youth; but his path shewed but
few marks of happiness, and few rays of hope for futurity were drawn by
fancy's hand. Sunk in despondency and vice, he was little above the
brutes around him.
In this situation he was accidentally met by the good minister of the
parish, who addressed him as a rational and immortal being, and pressed
upon him the first principles of religion. This was a new subject; for
he had never before looked beyond the narrow bounds before him, nor had
he ever dreamed of a world beyond this. After a long conversation on
this subject, the minister made him promise that he would now "_attend
to his soul_."
The clergyman could not, for many months after this, obtain an interview
with his new pupil, who most carefully shunned him. But though afraid to
meet his minister, he still felt an arrow of conviction in his heart.
Wherever he went, whether asleep or awake, to use his own words, his
promise, "me take care of soul, stick close to him," He now began in
earnest to seek "the one thing needful". By the kindness of his master
he learned to read his Testament, and to inquire more about Jesus. He
was now very desirous to see his minister; and before a convenient
opportunity occurred, he was in such distress of mind as actually to
attempt two several times to kill himself. His minister visited him,
conversed and prayed with him.
"_Oh_," he would say, "God never think such poor negro, he no love so
much sinner, he no before ever see such bad heart!" The mercy of Christ,
and his compassion towards sinners, were explained to him, and his soul
was filled with "joy and peace in believing," He now rejoiced and
thanked God that he was brought from his native shores, as he had a
fairer country, and purer enjoyments presented to his view, after the
scenes of this transitory world shall be over. He now became more
industrious and more faithful. By uncommon industry he raised money
sufficient to purchase his own freedom. He next bought the liberty of
his wife, and had nearly completed paying for that of his only
daughter, when she was liberated by the hand of death. His wife soon
followed her, and left this world a perfect void to the husband and
father. His every tie that bound him to earth was now broken. Having no
earthly enjoyment, he now placed his affections on heaven above. It is
easy for the Christian to make rapid progress in holiness when not
fettered by worldly cares.
It was now dark, and I must leave my new acquaintance. I left him with
his face wet with tears, still standing beside the tomb--the tomb of his
old minister! This good man had been his faithful and constant guide,
and though his ashes had been slumbering for years, the negro had not
yet forgotten how to weep at their urn. I could not but admire the
wonderful dealings of God, in order to bring men to himself. Happy
minister! who hast been the instrument of covering a multitude of sins!
Happy negro! his is not this world. Though no sculptured marble may tell
the traveller where he may shortly lie--though he never trod the thorny
road of ambition or power--though the trumpet of fame never blew the
echo of his name through a gaping world--still those eyes, which will
soon be closed in death, may hereafter awake, to behold, undaunted, a
world in flames, and these heavens fleeing away.
~Violent Earthquake in Calabria.~
In nature there is nothing which can inspire us with so much awe as
those violent outbreakings which occasionally convulse the earth,
creating fearful devastation, overthrowing cities, and destroying much
life and property. The following is a description of one which occurred
in Calabria and Sicily in the year 1783; and which, from its violence,
overthrew many cities, creating an universal consternation in the minds
of the inhabitants of the two kingdoms.
On Wednesday, the fifth of February, about one in the afternoon, the
earth was convulsed in that part of Calabria which is bounded by the
rivers of Gallico and Metramo, by the mountains Jeio, Sagra, and
Caulone, and the coast between these rivers and the Tuscan Sea. This
district is called the _Piana_, because the country extends itself from
the roots of the Appenines, in a plain, for twenty Italian miles in
length by eighteen in breadth. The earthquake lasted about a hundred
seconds. It was felt as far as Otranto, Palermo, Lipari, and the other
Æolian isles; a little also in Apuglia, and the _Terra di Cavoro_; in
Naples and the Abruzzi not at all. There stood in this plain a hundred
and nine cities and villages, the habitations of a hundred and sixty-six
thousand human beings; and in less than two minutes all these edifices
were destroyed, with nearly thirty-two thousand individuals of every
age, sex, and station,--the rich equally with the poor; for there
existed no power of escaping from so sudden a destruction. The soil of
the _Piana_ was granite at the base of the Apennines, but in the plain
the _debris_ of every sort of earth, brought down from the mountains by
the rains, constituted a mass of unequal solidity, resistance, weight,
and form. On this account, whatever might have been the cause of the
earthquake, whether volcanic or electrical, the movement assumed every
possible direction--vertical, horizontal, oscillatory, vorticose, and
pulsatory; producing every variety of destruction. In one place, a city
or house was thrown down, in another it was immersed. Here, trees were
buried to their topmost branches, beside others stripped and overturned.
Some mountains opened in the middle, and dispersed their mass to the
right and left, their summits disappearing, or being lost in the
newly-formed valleys; others slipped from their foundations along with
all their edifices, which sometimes were overthrown, but more rarely
remained uninjured, and the inhabitants not even disturbed in their
sleep. The earth opened in many places, forming frightful abysses;
while, at a small distance, it rose into hills. The waters, too, changed
their course; rivers uniting to form lakes, or spreading into marshes;
disappearing, to rise again in new streams, through other banks, or
running at large, to lay bare and desolate the most fertile fields.
Nothing retained its ancient form, cities, roads, and boundaries
vanished,--so that the inhabitants were bewildered as if in an unknown
land. The works of art and of nature, the elaborations of centuries,
together with many a stream and rock, coeval perhaps with the world
itself, were in a single instant destroyed and overthrown....
Whirlwinds, tempests, the flames of volcanoes, and of burning edifices,
rain, wind, and thunder, accompanied the movements of the earth: all the
forces of nature were in activity, and it seemed as if all its laws were
suspended, and the last hour of created things at hand. In the meantime,
the sea between Scylla, Charybdis, and the coasts of Reggio and Messina,
was raised many fathoms above its usual level; overflowing its banks,
and then, in its return to its channel, carrying away men and beasts. By
these means, two thousand persons lost their lives on Scylla alone, who
were either congregated on the sands, or had escaped in boats, from the
dangers of the dry land. Etna and Stromboli were in more than usual
activity: but this hardly excited attention, amidst greater and graver
disasters. A worse fire than that of the volcanoes resulted from the
incidents of the earthquake; for the beams of the falling houses being
ignited by the burning heaths, the flames, fanned by the winds, were so
vast and fierce, that they seemed to issue from the bosom of the earth.
The heavens, alternately cloudy or serene, had given no previous sign of
the approaching calamity; but a new source of suffering followed it, in
a thick fog, which obscured the light of the day, and added to the
darkness of night. Irritating to the eyes, injurious to the respiration,
fetid, and immoveable, it hung over the two Calabrias for more than
twenty days,--an occasion of melancholy, disease, and annoyance, both to
man and to animals....
At the first shock, no token, in heaven or on earth, had excited
attention; but at the sudden movement, and at the aspect of destruction,
an overwhelming terror seized on the general mind, insomuch, that the
instinct of self-preservation was suspended, and men remained
thunderstricken and immoveable. On the return of reason, the first
sentiment was a sort of joy at the partial escape; but they soon gave
place to grief for the loss of family, and the overthrow of the domestic
habitation. Amidst so many aspects of death, and the apprehension even
of approaching judgment, the suspicion that friends were yet alive under
the ruins was the most excruciating affliction, since the impossibility
of assisting them rendered their death--(miserable and terrible
consolation)--a matter of preference and of hope. Fathers and husbands
were seen wandering amidst the ruins that covered the objects of their
affections, and, wanting the power to move the superincumbent masses,
were calling in vain for the assistance of the bystanders; or haply they
lay groaning, night and day, in their despair, upon the ruinous
fragments. But the most horrid fate--(a fate too dreadful to conceive or
to relate)--was theirs, who, buried alive beneath the fallen edifices,
awaited, with an anxious and doubtful hope, the chances of
relief--accusing, at first, the slowness, and then the avarice, of
their dearest relations and friends; and when they sank under hunger and
grief--with their senses and memory beginning to fail them--their last
sentiment was that of indignation against their kindred, and hatred of
humanity. Many were disinterred alive by their friends, and some by the
earthquake itself; which, overthrowing the very ruins it had made,
restored them to light. It was ultimately found, that about a fourth of
those whose bodies were recovered, might have been saved, had timely
assistance been at hand. The men were chiefly found in attitudes
indicating an effort at escape, the women with their hands covering
their face, or desperately plunged in their hair. Mothers were
discovered dead who had striven to protect their infants with their own
bodies, or lay with their arms stretched towards these objects of
affection, when separated from them by intervening masses of ruin.
~Escape from a Ship on Fire.~
From the "Missionary Annual" for 1833.
Many of the party, having retired to their hammocks soon after the
commencement of the storm, were only partially clothed, when they made
their escape; but the seamen on the watch, in consequence of the heavy
rain, having cased themselves in double or treble dresses, supplied
their supernumerary articles of clothing to those who had none. We
happily succeeded in bringing away two compasses from the binnacle, and
a few candles from the cuddy-table, one of them lighted; one bottle of
wine, and another of porter, were handed to us, with the tablecloth and
a knife, which proved very useful; but the fire raged so fiercely in the
body of the vessel, that neither bread nor water could be obtained. The
rain still poured in torrents; the lightning, followed by loud bursting
of thunder, continued to stream from one side of the heavens to the
other,--one moment dazzling us by its glare, and the next moment
leaving us in darkness, relieved only by the red flames of the
conflagration from which we were endeavouring to escape. Our first
object was to proceed to a distance from the vessel, lest she should
explode and overwhelm us; but, to our inexpressible distress, we
discovered that the yawl had no rudder, and that for the two boats we
had only three oars. All exertions to obtain more from the ship proved
unsuccessful. The gig had a rudder; from this they threw out a rope to
take us in tow; and, by means of a few paddles, made by tearing up the
lining of the boat, we assisted in moving ourselves slowly through the
water, providentially the sea was comparatively smooth, or our
overloaded boats would have swamped, and we should only have escaped the
flames to have perished in the deep. The wind was light, but variable,
and, acting on the sails, which, being drenched with the rain, did not
soon take fire, drove the burning mass, in terrific grandeur, over the
surface of the ocean, the darkness of which was only illuminated by the
quick glancing of the lightning or the glare of the conflagration. Our
situation was for some time extremely perilous. The vessel neared us
more than once, and apparently threatened to involve us in one common
destruction. The cargo, consisting of dry provisions, spirits, cotton
goods, and other articles equally combustible, burned with great
violence, while the fury of the destroying element, the amazing height
of the flames, the continued storm, amidst the thick darkness of the
night, rendered the scene appalling and terrible. About ten o'clock, the
masts, after swaying from side to side, fell with a dreadful crash into
the sea, and the hull of the vessel continued to burn amidst the
shattered fragments of the wreck, till the sides were consumed to the
water's edge. The spectacle was truly magnificent, could it even have
been contemplated by us without a recollection of our own circumstances.
The torments endured by the dogs, sheep, and other animals on board, at
any other time would have excited our deepest commiseration; but at
present, the object before us, our stately ship, that had for the last
four months been our social home, the scene of our enjoyments, our
labours, and our rest, now a prey to the destroying element; the
suddenness with which we had been hurried from circumstances of comfort
and comparative security, to those of destitution and peril, and with
which the most exhilarating hopes had been exchanged for disappointment
as unexpected as it was afflictive; the sudden death of the two seamen,
our own narrow escape, and lonely situation on the face of the deep, and
the great probability even yet, although we had succeeded in removing to
a greater distance from the vessel, that we ourselves should never again
see the light of day, or set foot on solid ground, absorbed every
feeling. For some time the silence was scarcely broken, and the thoughts
of many, I doubt not, were engaged on subjects most suitable to immortal
beings on the brink of eternity. The number of persons in the two boats
was forty-eight; and all, with the exception of the two ladies, who bore
this severe visitation with uncommon fortitude, worked by turns at the
oars and paddles. After some time, to our great relief, the rain ceased;
the labour of baling water from the boats was then considerably
diminished. We were frequently hailed during the night by our companions
in the small boat, and returned the call, while the brave and
generous-hearted seamen occasionally enlivened the solitude of the deep
by a simultaneous "Hurra!" to cheer each others' labours, and to animate
their spirits. The Tanjore rose in the water as its contents were
gradually consumed. We saw it burning the whole night, and at day-break
could distinguish a column of smoke, which, however, soon ceased, and
every sign of our favourite vessel disappeared. When the sun rose, our
anxiety and uncertainty as to our situation were greatly relieved by
discovering land ahead; the sight of it filled us with grateful joy,
and nerved us with fresh vigour for the exertion required in managing
the boats. With the advance of the day we discerned more clearly the
nature of the country. It was wild and covered with jungle, without any
appearance of population: could we have got ashore, therefore, many of
us might have perished before assistance could have been procured; but
the breakers, dashing upon the rocks, convinced us that landing was
impracticable. In the course of the morning we discovered a native
vessel, or dhoney, lying at anchor, at some distance: the wind at that
time beginning to favour us, every means was devised to render it
available. In the yawl we extended the tablecloth as a sail, and in the
other boat a blanket served the same purpose. This additional help was
the more seasonable, as the rays of the sun had become almost
intolerable to our partially covered bodies. Some of the seamen
attempted to quench their thirst by salt water: but the passengers
encouraged each other to abstain. About noon we reached the dhoney. The
natives on board were astonished and alarmed at our appearance, and
expressed some unwillingness to receive us; but our circumstances would
admit of no denial; and we scarcely waited till our Singalese
fellow-passenger could interpret to them our situation and our wants,
before we ascended the sides of their vessel, assuring them that every
expense and loss sustained on our account should be amply repaid.
~Anecdotes of the Albatross, &c.~
The author of the following extracts is Mr. Augustus Earle, whose life
has been one of wandering and peril, traversing every quarter of the
globe. The account of his residence for nine months among the New
Zealanders is very interesting; but a description of their cannibal
habits will not suit the taste of many of our young readers. We shall
therefore accompany him to the Island of Tristan d'Acunha, upon which,
by accident, he was left, where he amused himself hunting goats, sea
elephants, albatrosses, and penguins; while, like another Crusoe, he
occasionally watched for the ship that should release him from his
island prison. His work is intitled "Nine Months' Residence in New
Zealand," &c.