ON HISTORIC FIELDS OF VIRGINIA AND PENNSYLVANIA.
[Illustration: A MIXED TRAIN FROM THE WILDERNESS.]
The instructions given upon the separation of our three photographers,
after leaving St. Louis, were necessarily indefinite, and discrimination
in the selection of routes and views had to be left to individual
judgment, since weather and conditions play an important part in the
artists’ profession. Our third photographer departed somewhat from the
route which he had selected to cover, for after the separation, instead
of proceeding directly east through Pennsylvania, as was his first
intention, he went south to Cincinnati and east by the Chesapeake and
Ohio Railroad, through the lovely Blue Grass region of Kentucky, making
his first stop at Charleston, the capital of West Virginia. The capital
is a small place of something less than 7,000 inhabitants, and with
nothing of particular importance to visitors except the mountain scenery
which invests it. The Kanawha River, upon which the town is situated, is
navigable for small crafts from this point to its junction with the
Ohio, but above Charleston the stream is treacherous and its channel so
rock-infested that a skiff can hardly follow the stream without danger.
Thirty miles from the capital are the Kanawha Falls, or cataracts, where
the river goes tearing over several benches of thinly stratified rocks,
and has scooped out a pool of very great depth, where fishing is said to
be excellent. On the north side of the river at this point are the
Gauley Mountains, rising to a considerable altitude, but so gently that
the slopes have been reclaimed from thick timber growths and converted
into beautiful farms.
The scenery all through the valley of the Kanawha is tumultuously grand,
but nine miles beyond the falls it attains its greatest glory. Here the
tremendous cliffs rise vertically to a height of 1,200 feet, and at a
point called “The Hawk’s Nest” a breast of the bluffs extends out over
the river in a perilous shelf 1,000 feet high, from which lofty
elevation the river becomes a ribbon of white, and a train of cars
running along the mountain skirts on the opposite side looks like a
string of army-ants hurrying to an attack. The view down the valley is
one of ineffable magnificence, presenting as it does a double file of
noble mountains dressed in uniforms of lovely green, which, as they
recede, assume a sky-blue hue, and then gradually fade away in the
opalescent mist of distance.
[Illustration: FALLING SPRING, NEAR WARM SPRINGS, VIRGINIA.]
Thirty miles above Kanawha Falls, at a town called Hinton, the New and
Green-Brier Rivers unite to form the Kanawha, and here the scenery is
likewise charmingly picturesque. The line of lofty bluffs continues
along the south shore of New River, under which the Chesapeake and Ohio
Railroad runs upon a bare passageway, while the north line is marked by
graceful mountains that in the distance look like lines of beauty
tracing the horizon. In some places the ledges are 1,200 feet high, and
the river so contracted that the cañon is almost dark at midday. The
view is further diversified by successive rapids and cataracts, while at
frequent intervals the bluffs recede, leaving stretches of fertile
valley that are in a high state of cultivation, with pretty farm houses
dotting the landscape and imparting an appearance of prosperous
animation to these pleasing interludes. The road follows the valley of
Green-Brier River twenty miles further, to Caldwell, then passes through
White Sulphur Springs, and a few minutes later crosses the James River
at Clifton Forge, where that romantic stream, drawing its inspiration
from the Alleghenies, cuts its way through the Blue Ridge Mountains.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
KANAWHA FALLS, WEST VIRGINIA.—Thirty miles from Charleston, the
capital of West Virginia, are the Kanawha Falls or Cataracts, where
the river is broken into numerous channels and fragments and plunges
over an irregular ledge of thinly stratified rocks, presenting a
scene that is both grand and picturesque. The Gauley Mountains rise
with sloping terraces to the north of the falls, along the sides of
which are many attractive farm-houses, adding a charm of rural
beauty and contentment to the scene. At the foot of the falls an
immense pool has been scooped out of the bed of the river, which
teems with fish and is a favorite resort for lovers of that sport.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: WAITING FOR TIME TO CATCH UP.]
Clifton Forge is forty miles east of White Sulphur Springs, and from
this junction a branch of the Chesapeake and Ohio Road runs northeast to
form a connection with the Shenandoah Valley Railroad at Waynesborough.
All the region hereabout is very rugged, and intersected by beautiful
streams whose sources are springs that break out of the sides of
mountains, and the waters are generally more or less impregnated with
sulphur. Eighteen miles due north of Clifton Forge, and reached by a
delightful road that winds through charming vales, is the village of
Warm Springs, the capital of Bath county, and adjacent are the Warm
Sulphur Springs, which attract so many visitors in search of health and
fine scenery. It is a mountain town, whose population fluctuates with
the season, for while the place is one of some animation from April to
October, during the other months there are not enough people in the
village to keep the mud-daubers out of the houses. A more picturesque
district, however, can scarcely be found; too mountainous to permit
agriculture, nature has given other blessings than fertility to the
region. The climate is extremely invigorating, and the numerous springs
possess medicinal properties of undoubted value, while the scenery is
inspiring to even the most phlegmatic. One of the chief objects which
serves to further diversify the landscape of high-lifted peaks, jutting
cliffs, meandering brooks, green coverts, sylvan solitudes and cloistral
caverns, is Falling Spring, a sheet of rainbow-flecked water that dashes
over a ledge seventy feet high, and which, seen from a little distance,
may be likened in appearance to the white trailing trousseau of a bride,
so delicate, graceful, and gossamer-like is its form, so joyous is its
laughter. After leaving Clifton Forge the road winds along the sinuous
valley of James River, with charming views on both sides, until
interest, charm and excitement are superseded by wonder as Natural
Bridge, that marvelous curiosity of ages, is reached, and preparation is
immediately made to examine and to photograph its astounding formation
and immensity. This great natural wonder, which is an old acquaintance
to all school-children, is two miles from the railway station, at the
termination of a very deep gorge, through which flows a capricious
little stream called Cedar Creek. At one time this feeble brook may have
been a raging river, and needed bridging, but like an old man, it has
lost the vigor of former days and fallen into the seventh age of
decrepitude. But the bridge which Titans might have constructed still
spans the creek’s deep bed and has grown in mightiness as the waters
below subsided. To speak with mathematical exactness, without employing
statistical details, it may be said that the Natural Bridge spans with
graceful and architectural proportions the perpendicular ledges of Cedar
Creek, which rise 200 feet above the stream. The center of its wondrous
arch is forty feet in perpendicular thickness and sixty feet wide, while
the span is exactly eighty-nine feet. A public highway utilizes the
bridge, and it is the only means of passage for wagons within a mile
either way, except by a steep bank, very difficult to ascend, a short
distance below the gorge. Just above the bridge the creek bluffs are
broken into masses that look like immense buttresses, pinnacled at
places and reaching to a height of 250 feet. The most imposing view is
obtained from a position fifty yards below the bridge, where the arch
appears both lighter and higher, and the walls more dangerously
precipitous. From this point of view this world-famous natural structure
appears as perfect as if cut by design; a colossal arch that shines in
the sun like variegated marble, without stratification or displacement,
so high that the largest sailing vessel might pass under without
touching the peak of her mainmast. On the abutments of the bridge are
carved the names of many adventurous youths who sought fame by leaving a
record of their reckless efforts to scale the dizzy heights of stone.
George Washington was not above this ambition to win reputation by
carving his name higher up than any of his fellow-youths, and for nearly
seventy years he held the honor of being the most intrepid and expert
wall-climber, for, like Ben Adam, his name led all the rest. But in 1818
this distinction was surrendered to James Piper, of Washington College,
who performed the daring, and what was long thought to be impossible,
feat of climbing from the foot of the abutment to the top of the arch,
an exploit so dangerous that no one has since made a mad attempt to
repeat it. Thomas Jefferson was moved to write a eulogium of this
incomparable natural wonder in this wise:
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
HAWK’S NEST AND CAÑON OF THE KANAWHA RIVER, WEST VIRGINIA.—The scenery
all through the Kanawha Valley is picturesque and splendid, but its
full glory is not attained until it reaches a place about nine miles
beyond the falls. Here, at the point called Hawk’s Nest, which is
photographed on this page, the cliffs are majestic, rising to a
height of 1200 feet, while immediately in the foreground of the
picture a breast of the bluff extends out over the river in a
perilous shelf 1000 feet high, from which lofty elevation the
winding stream becomes a mere ribbon of white, lined on either side
with the dark green colors of the mountain foliage.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: GALBRAITH SPRINGS, TENNESSEE.]
“The Natural Bridge, the most sublime of nature’s works, though not
comprehended under the present head, must not be pretermitted. Though
the sides of this bridge are provided in parts with a parapet of fixed
rocks, yet few men have resolution to walk to them and look over into
the abyss. If the view from the top be painful and intolerable, that
from below is delightful in an equal extreme. It is impossible for the
emotions arising from the sublime to be felt beyond what they are here;
so beautiful an arch, so elevated, so light and springing, as it were,
up to heaven! The rapture of the spectator is really indescribable.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
FALLS OF NEW RIVER, NEAR HINTON, WEST VIRGINIA.—Thirty miles above
Kanawha Falls, the New and Greenbrier Rivers unite to form the
Kanawha, and here the scenery is peculiarly grand and picturesque.
In some places the ledges soar to a height of 1200 feet, and the
river is so narrow that the intervening cañon sees but little of the
sunlight except near midday. At some points the bluffs recede,
giving space for beautiful green valleys, dotted with pretty farm-
houses that lend an appearance of prosperous animation to these
pleasing preludes. The river is broken into many rapids, cataracts
and falls, which enhance the charms of the scenery by the music of
their babbling waters.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: PASSAGE OF THE FRENCH BROAD RIVER THROUGH THE SMOKY
MOUNTAINS.]
From Natural Bridge our photographer took train on the Norfolk and
Western Railroad, and proceeded southwestwardly to the junction of that
road with the Tennessee, Virginia and Georgia Railroad, by which he
passed into Tennessee as far as Knoxville, and from that point made
excursions into the famous East Tennessee region, where scenes and
scenery are quite unlike anything which he had ever before transferred
to photographs. Nowhere in all the world are there richer lands,
prettier women, braver men, finer landscapes, and bigger prospects than
Tennessee affords. It is a region of boundless resources and charming
views, and possessing as it does so many advantages, it likewise
presents remarkable contrasts and conditions. Where can the scenery
about Cumberland Gap be equaled, or the panorama from the summit of
Lookout Mountain be matched? But there is relaxation in the quiet views
of rural life in East Tennessee which are here reproduced, and the
pastime reader as well as the student of geography, will appreciate the
restful change.
Tennessee is the neutral ground between North and South, because it does
not distinctively belong to either, but its contiguity to both gives to
the State some of the characteristics of each. Adopting slavery, it is
Southern, but developing a strong pro-Union sentiment in the beginning
of the civil war, Tennessee became Northern in her affinities; but the
slave-marks of one hundred years have not been effaced even after thirty
years of freedom, for in the country and villages there are old slave-
cabins, rickety, but still habitable, the homes of white-haired relics
of ante-war times, and the new generation that has not been taught to
tie up their hair with cotton strings. All over the South it is the
same; but in East Tennessee there is something else to bring back old
memories, for here the brazen front of war marched through the land, and
turned its fair acres of waving grain and fruitful orchards into battle-
fields, furrowed with dead and harrowed with destruction. And yet
Tennessee was pro-Union, with secession tendencies, because her
interests were indissolubly linked with the South. But the wounds have
all healed; the impetuous youth who went forth to battle is now a peace-
loving grandfather; his daughter was captured by a Yankee, and she has
never regretted it, and the railroad runs every day between the two
sections with mail-bags full of peace-messages. Why, the war has been
over so long that we get mixed in our history, and sometimes we are not
quite clear whether it was in 1776 or 1861. In fact, many of the old
farm houses along the way look decidedly Revolutionary, and none of the
mountains have changed or added another wrinkle to their imperturbable
faces.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
PASSAGE OF THE JAMES RIVER THROUGH THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS.—The very
name of Blue Ridge is music in the ears of many thousands of good
and worthy citizens of our country, whose ancestral homes were, or
still are, in the midst or within view of the hazy-blue summits of
these historic mountains. Any one who has seen them at a distance,
in the soft light of an Indian summer, will appreciate the aptitude
of the title, and the affection which must be engendered by
association with such delightful scenery from childhood to the
evening of life. The view presented in the photograph on this page
is an exceptionally fine one, showing the mountains on either side
and in the distance through the rift made by the river.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: A SCENE OF RURAL LIFE IN NORTH CAROLINA.]
In some of the towns there is a lazy air that barely stirs the little
wind-mills on the marten-boxes, and indolence and shiftlessness have
their votaries even here. Up in the mountains there are shadows of hard
times, which are projected into the valleys and villages in the form of
bull-teams and crotchety “mover-wagons.” The driver has a _sang-froid_
appearance, and as if he was ahead of his expectations, and is willing
to wait for tardy time to catch up. His team is glad to encourage the
waiting ambition, and lies down in the street to keep him patient
company.
To exhibit the diversity of scenes in East Tennessee and the resourceful
expedients of the people, photograph was made of another mountaineer’s
team, wherein the traction energy of a bull is compared with that of a
horse, to the humiliation, no doubt, of the latter. In order to throw a
little more animation into the scene, our photographer grouped a party
of natives about the team, so that two purposes might be served with one
stone, and no mistake might be made as to types of the people and their
conveyances.
On a trip to the north boundary of the State several lovely landscape
pictures were secured, one of the most exquisite being a view in the
vicinity of Galbraith Springs, where the headwaters of Tennessee River
pour through Short Mountains, which are the outposts of Cumberland
Range, and go careening and pirouetting in many cascades between that
point and Knoxville. The scenery hereabout presents the majesty of
imperious isolation, the lonely grandeur of undisputed lordliness; and
under the shadows which these towering mountains cast, are people that
live in a little world of their own, almost forgetful that the earth
projects beyond the horizon of their vision. But in this valley of
delight the flowers run riot over the hills, the woods and fields are
musical with songs of many birds, and there are the sweets of peace and
the bloom of plenty beneath these opalescent skies.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
PICTURED BLUFFS ON NEW RIVER, WEST VIRGINIA.—These bluffs derive their
name from their close resemblance to the Pictured Rocks of Lake
Superior, and there is a very striking similarity between the
general appearance and characteristics of the two localities, as all
who are familiar with these famous scenic regions will admit. New
River has its source in the picturesque Blue Ridge Mountains,
flowing thence northwesterly to its junction with the Kanawha, and
embracing in its course a wide diversity of some of the grandest and
most beautiful scenery in the world.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: THE OLD MAN’S FACE, NEAR ASHEVILLE.]
From the pleasant vales about Galbraith the route was south to
Morristown, and thence southeast along the valley of the French Broad
River, through Unaka Pass of the Great Smoky Mountains, to North
Carolina. Many writers have exhausted the dictionary of adjectives in
describing the romantic beauties of the French Broad, but the stream,
and its intervales, bedighted with marvelous cliffs, continues as nature
made it, beyond the power of description. The course of this lovely
stream cuts through the charming hills about Asheville and pours its
crystal waters through a narrow gorge until it passes the blockade of
the Smoky Mountains. In this space of forty miles the French Broad is
indeed a “racing river,” to which the Cherokees applied the name
_Tahkecostee_, which has that significance, for it is impetuous,
torrential, terrific. From a gentle stream above Asheville, by the
contraction of its banks below, the river becomes angry, and the roar of
cataract as it rushes over opposing bowlders fills the air with noise
like thunder. At Stack House the current dashes over a fall twenty feet
high, and at Mountain Island it makes another leap and then becomes a
noisy rapid to a point known as “Deep Water.” Here the mountains close
in upon the river, forcing it through a narrow channel only one hundred
and fifty feet wide and forty feet deep. The railroad to reach the
opposite bank, crosses the river diagonally by an iron bridge, with a
clear span of two hundred and sixty feet, squeezing itself, as it were,
around the rocky face of the mountain on the right bank, to be received
with the same grudging hospitality by the hard face of the left bank,
and twists itself by a very short curve into line, which in a very few
minutes brings it into the beautiful, smiling valley of Hot Springs.
No one has ever been able to convey a just idea of the remarkable
magnificence of this wonderful cañon, with its wild and ceaseless
splendor of tumultuous waters, its overhanging cliffs, its noble
mountains and fairy islets. In the time of stage-coaching it was an
experience never to be forgotten—the day’s journey from Asheville to the
Warm Springs, along the turnpike which followed the old Indian trail and
lay between the river and the cliffs, hemmed in by the whirling emerald
waters of the first and overhung by the fern-draped escarpments of the
last, with vistas of wild and yet wilder beauty opening at every step.
Paint Rock is six miles below Hot Springs, and directly on the line
between North Carolina and Tennessee. The rock itself is massive in size
and would attract attention, if not admiration, aside from the legends
which make it famous. The name Paint Rock is given to perpetuate a
tradition that the Cherokee Indians colored portions of it with an
indelible paint, and in the form of hieroglyphics which no one has been
able to decipher, though the legend represents that it is the tribe’s
prayer to the Great Spirit; and being approved, ages will not suffice to
efface it. Twenty miles east of Asheville is Round Knob, on the line of
the Western North Carolina Railroad and nestled in the very heart of the
Blue Ridge Mountains, where the scenery surpasses in wildness and
sublimity that of any other section of the State. It is a basin so
completely shut in by lofty peaks, that if a person were dropped into it
without knowing the point of entrance, he would find difficulty in
escaping. A brawling mountain stream rushes by, in whose crystal waters
bask the speckled trout to tempt the angler, while near the hotel is to
be seen one of the most beautiful spectacles in the world—a magnificent
fountain that throws its spray two hundred and eighty-six feet high,
then like a bridal veil floats off in misty fragments. It is beautiful
by day, but far more beautiful in the moonlight, as it throws its
sparkling vapor high in the air, giving to the scene a weird
enchantment.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
A VIEW OF THE FRENCH BROAD RIVER ABOVE ASHEVILLE.—Many writers have
exhausted the dictionary of adjectives in describing the romantic
beauties of the French Broad River, but the stream and its
intervals, bedighted with marvelous cliffs, continues, as Nature
made it, beyond the power of description. In its course northward
this lovely stream cuts through the charming hills about Asheville,
and pours its crystal waters through a narrow gorge until it passes
the blockade of the Smoky Mountains. In this space of forty miles it
is indeed a “racing river,” which is signified by its Cherokee name
of _Tahkecostee_. From a gentle stream above Asheville, it becomes
an angry, raging flood below that point as it dashes through
mountain gorges and over opposing boulders with a roar like thunder.
]
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[Illustration: CÆSAR’S HEAD, SPUR OF THE BLUE RIDGE RANGE, N. C.]
Overhead, apparently weaving in and out like a silver thread, winds the
glistening track over which the tourist must pass to gain the summit of
the Blue Ridge. So great and difficult is the ascent that at one point
four parallel tracks may be seen, one above the other, while at another
point, as the train passes over a winding trestle sixty feet high, the
tourist might easily drop his hat on the track below over which he had
passed a few minutes before, but now going in an entirely opposite
direction, having gained nothing on his journey save about ninety feet
in elevation. So often does the track turn, twist and double upon itself
to gain the summit, that at one place of observation it may be seen at
seventeen distinct points. After having gained a distance of over five
miles of the ascent, the train is again within one-fourth of a mile of
the Knob, now lying far below, but still the center of this grand system
of iron loops, by means of which the train is gradually rising to the
region of the clouds. From this point to the summit, in the short space
of one and a half miles, the train passes through six tunnels and across
numerous gorges, whose sides are clothed with the primeval forest where
perhaps the foot of man never trod. The most noted of these is “Royal
Gorge,” seen from the car window, whose precipitous sides and deep-
yawning chasm form a scene of magnificent grandeur, from the top of
whose butting cliffs the mountains of South Carolina are visible, two
hundred miles distant. As the train rushes forward, suddenly it plunges
into Swannanoa Tunnel, which is nearly two thousand feet long, and upon
emerging at the western end, along the massive walls, we reach the
highest point in that Land of the Sky, where the waters of a spring
divide, a part flowing into the Atlantic Ocean and an equal share being
contributed to the Gulf of Mexico.
Having crossed the Blue Ridge Mountains and passed through Hickory-Nut
Gap to the valley, the road leads into one of the grandest cañons of the
Broad River. Here for a distance of nine miles on either side of the
river giant mountains rise to a dizzy height, forming massive walls of
blue granite, often reaching a height of more than a thousand feet,
while not a sprig of vegetation appears on their surface.
A creek large enough to turn a mill plunges over one of these
embattlements and falls in a single stream a distance of over thirteen
hundred feet, known as Hickory-Nut Falls, said to be the third highest
falls in the United States. Passing on down this great gorge, we see
Chimney Rock on the right, a circular column four hundred feet high,
while on the opposite side is Round Top, with its pyramidal dome resting
against the sky.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
CHIMNEY ROCK, ON THE FRENCH BROAD RIVER.—After passing through the
Blue Ridge Mountains at Hickory Nut Gap, the valley of the French
Broad River is encompassed by one of the grandest cañons to be found
in any part of the world. For a distance of nine miles on either
side, giant mountains rise to a dizzy height, forming massive walls
of blue granite, often reaching an altitude of more than a thousand
feet, while not a sprig of vegetation appears on their surface. They
are cut and carved by the elements into many curious and remarkable
shapes, designated by names more or less appropriate. Chimney Rock,
photographed on this page, is a circular column four hundred feet
high, bearing upon its top a curiously shaped rock closely
resembling the cap of liberty.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: ABOVE THE CLOUDS ON MITCHELL’S PEAK, NEAR ASHEVILLE,
NORTH CAROLINA.]
“High mountains bound this vale on north and south, while directly in
front of us, like companion sentinels guarding the western gateway, down
which the sun was to march, stands Round Top and Chimney Rock Mountains.
Behind Chimney Rock, trending toward the west, arise in close succession
a number of mountains with distinct, broken summits—a long palisade
fencing the gap in whose depth rushes the Broad River. In the center of
the west stands Bear Wallow Mountain, the last visible knob of Hickory-
Nut Gap.
“The sun was sinking behind the white cumuli that capped this mountain.
Streamers of golden light, like the spokes of a celestial chariot, whose
hub was the hidden sun, barred the western sky. The clouds shone with
edges of beaten gold. Their centers, with every minute, changed to all
hues imaginable. The fronts of the Sentinel Mountains were somber in the
shadows, while the gap was radiant with the light pouring through it,
and every pine on the top of the palisade stood black against the
glowing sky.” The “Old Man’s Face” is another wonderful natural
curiosity which divides interest with the finest scenery in this
remarkable region, and is on the west side of Bald Mountain, in
prominent view, for the rocks are barren and garish from the light of
the sun. This singular formation is a faithful representation of a
three-quarter view of an old man’s face, with forehead, eyes, nose,
mouth and beard in such perfect proportion that one can hardly believe,
without close examination, the face is only an accidental result of the
elements, in their unceasing work of denudation.
Eighteen miles from Asheville, in the Balsam Range, is Mount Pisgah,
5,757 feet high, from the apex of which a wonderful expanse of mountain
scenery is spread out to view; but it is from the Blue Ridge peaks that
the sublimest visions are presented, and the most curious forms of
nature-sculpturing occur. Passing southwest from Asheville, the
Asheville and Spartanburg Road runs through an exceedingly fertile
region, and thence into the Cañon of Little River, where for four miles
the stream is a succession of surging rapids, noisy cascades, and
picturesque waterfalls, until it approaches the base of tremendous
cliffs. These are spurs of the Blue Ridge, one of which is famous as
presenting a facial profile which has been named “Cæsar’s Head,” but it
takes a person of vivid imagination to distinguish the human features,
very plain though the guide declares them to be. As the altitude is
nearly 6,000 feet, and 2,000 feet above the valley, the prospect of the
peak of this Blue Ridge spur is incomparably magnificent.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
LITTLE RIVER RAPIDS, NORTH CAROLINA.—At this point the river flashes
over a sloping ledge of rocks and boulders with irresistible power
and a roar like that of thunder. At all seasons of the year the
scene is splendid and inspiring, but when the river is swollen with
the spring floods and the waters come with a mighty and irresistible
flood, dashing over the rocks and carrying away trees and boulders
with titanic force and rage, the view is awe-inspiring and grand
beyond the power of human pen to describe.
]
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[Illustration: THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT MITCHELL, NORTH CAROLINA.]
From this dizzy height the peaks of the Blue Ridge may be observed for
scores of miles in each direction; looking northeast you may see the
famous King’s Mountain, seventy miles away, while in the opposite
direction, in distinct view, is Stone Mountain, near Atlanta, Georgia,
over one hundred miles away. Looking to the north, a distance of a
little more than one hundred miles, is the Roan Mountain, while to the
northeast is seen the black dome of Mount Mitchell, full sixty-five
miles distant. In the northwest, about thirty-five miles away, is
Pisgah, resembling a great Egyptian pyramid in outline, while directly
to the west are the Highlands of Macon county, with Whiteside Mountain
glittering like an iceberg in the sunlight. From the top of this
wonderful precipice the view is strangely suggestive of a great stretch
of ocean. The blue waves of the sea find their counterpart in the waves
of these blue mountains, with their corrugations extending far out until
the outline is lost in the hazy distance. There is no grander sight than
a view from this point at sunrise, when the world below is buried from
sight in an ocean of impenetrable fog, and the great billows of fleecy
mist rolling like angry waves, while the breaker-like roar of cataracts
a thousand feet below, makes the deception complete.
The loftiest peak of the Appalachian system is Mount Mitchell, which is
thirty miles from Asheville, and is easiest reached by way of the
Swannanoa River. The ascent is by a comparatively easy roadway, but as
the altitude of the summit is 6,717 feet, it is not gained without great
exertion. Formerly the mountain was called Black Dome, then Clingman’s
Mount, but was afterwards christened Mitchell’s Peak, in honor of
Professor Elisha Mitchell, of the State University of North Carolina,
who was first to measure its exact altitude, and who lost his life by
falling over a precipice in making a second ascent to verify his first
measurement. The body was found ten days after the fatal accident and
conveyed to Asheville, where it was buried. One year subsequently the
remains were disinterred and carried to the summit of Mitchell Mountain,
and there committed to the grave, over which a beautiful monument now
stands, the tribute of a daughter’s loving memory.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
CATHEDRAL AND THRONE IN LURAY CAVERN, VIRGINIA.—The formations of
Luray Cavern are perhaps the most beautiful of all the subterranean
wonders of the world. At some period, long subsequent to its
original excavation, the cavern was completely filled with glacial
mud, whereby the drip-stone was eroded into singularly grotesque as
well as lovely shapes. Out of these molds of nature, after the mud
had been mostly removed by flowing water, came these marvelous
formations, rivaling in beauty and wonder the most exquisite
carvings of art. The “Throne-Room,” so beautifully photographed on
this page, is canopied with curtains and hung with tapestry that
seem to be woven of pearls and diamonds, rivaling the splendors of
Aladdin’s fabled cave.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: BRIDAL VEIL FALLS, DINGMAN’S FERRY, PENNSYLVANIA.]
The ascent of the mountain lies through superb forests of deciduous
trees and along the banks of the rushing Swannanoa, until after a climb
of five miles the second base of the mountain is reached—a small grassy
plateau, where a residence once stood—now known as the “Half-way House.”
From this point the world below unrolls before the gaze like an azure
scroll, while above, awful in its nearness and immensity, towers the
dark mass of Black Mountain, clothed with a somber forest, into the
depths of which the path now plunges, and which it does not leave again
until the final summit is reached. Winding in snake-like turns through
the close-growing firs, the trail climbs the steep shoulders of the
great mountain, passing over what is now known as Clingman Dome (of the
Blacks) and then following its ridges for about three miles, until the
bare rocky peak, which is the highest point of land east of the Rocky
Mountains, is reached, and all hardships of ascent are forgotten in the
view that bursts upon the enraptured vision.
If the day is clear, the prospect is almost boundless in extent and of
infinite beauty. Range behind range of great mountains lie below, like a
Titanic ocean stilled by some mighty hand. From this supreme elevation
it is possible to study the structural character of the region, and to
count all the great chains that cross the country, while no words can
express the varying and exquisite color that, like a glamour of heavenly
enchantment, lies over the wide expanse. The whole earth, “and the
beauty thereof,” seems to be spread out at one’s feet, and the airs that
come to this high mountain crest are full of freshness and balm.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
TITANIA’S VEIL, LURAY CAVERNS, VIRGINIA.—The origin of the beautiful
scarfs and canopies that constitute a special feature of the
attractions of Luray Caverns, and which differ from all other
subterraneous formations yet discovered, is from carbonates
deposited by water trickling down a sloping and corrugated surface.
In one place there are sixteen of these alabaster scarfs hanging
side by side—three white and fine as crepe shawls; thirteen striated
like agate, with every shade of brown, and all perfectly
transparent. Down the edge of each a tiny rill glistens like silver,
the ever-flying shuttle that weaves this fairy fabric. When lighted
by electricity each drop of liquid and every rounded gem becomes a
flaming diamond, producing a scene of splendor that can be but
faintly imagined.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: COLOSSEUM FALLS, NEAR DINGMAN’S FERRY, PENNSYLVANIA.]
A Southern poet, who climbed the mountain in the spring of 1891, thus
describes the inspiring sight which greeted him when the day was dying:
“To witness a sunset from this peak is something long to be remembered.
Never shall I forget that evening in June, when in company with my
guide, we stood by the grave on the summit of Mount Mitchell, and looked
down on that scene of resplendent glory that lay before us; far in the
west the sun was slowly sinking in a bed of crimson and gold, the
horizon was lighted with a flushing radiance which was infinitely
sublime, while the whole landscape was aglow with splendor, every tint
and hue imaginable seemed to intermingle in that sea of color, and every
jutting crag, and dome, and pinnacle of sullen rock flamed as though a
thousand rainbows had fallen out of the sky and hung themselves there
like glorious banners; we stand enthralled at the scene before us, no
sound is heard, no note of bird breaks the awful stillness. We are in
the region of that eternal silence which wraps the summit of the
‘everlasting hills.’ A hush of dreamy repose broods over this lofty
peak, which still retains the last rays of the setting sun, while over
the world below twilight has fallen.
‘How fair this lone and lovely scene,
And yonder dropping fiery ball,
And eve’s sweet spirit, which steals unseen
With darkness over all!’”
But it is not only from its unsurpassed view that this great mountain is
interesting. Its vast sides are clothed with a forest of bewildering
beauty, crystal streams gush from its heights, and there is, altogether,
a fascination about this wild, unpeopled region that goes far to account
for the passion which caused Professor Mitchell to lose his life in
wandering through its wilderness.
Having accomplished a circuit of the wonderlands of Western North
Carolina, our artist departed from Asheville by way of the Richmond and
Danville Railroad, and thence by its northern connections to Roanoke,
Virginia, at which point train was taken on the Shenandoah Valley Route
for Luray, a town of 1,500 people, but famous by reason of its proximity
to the marvelous caverns of that name, the beauty of which is
incomparable, and in wonder they rival the great Mammoth Cave. This
marvelous subterranean labyrinth is one mile distant from the town, and
is entered by an easy passage-way that has a gradual descent by stone
steps. The cave was an accidental discovery by Mr. Andrew J. Campbell,
in 1878, who, while examining the locality known as Cave Hill, was led,
by the hollow sound produced by stamping the earth, to seek for the
cavity which he knew must exist at that point. With spade and mattock he
sank a hole four feet deep and was rewarded by finding the great cavern
which ought rightfully to bear his name.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE BALL-ROOM, LURAY CAVERNS.—Luray’s stalactite display exceeds that
of any other cavern known. The original material is yellow, brown or
red, and its wavy surface often shows layers like the gnarled grain
of costly woods. The new stalactites growing from the old, and made
of hard carbonates that had already once been used, are usually
white as snow, though often pink, blue or amber-colored. The small
pendants are innumerable, and they sparkle and blaze in the light
like clusters of diamonds, sapphires and other precious stones. At
some points the stalactite columns are of immense size and height,
unsullied and wax-like in their transparent whiteness, each ripple
and braided rill appearing as if it had been polished.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: FACTORY FALLS, DINGMAN’S FERRY, PENNSYLVANIA.]
To Rev. Horace C. Hovey, of New Haven, we are indebted for the best, as
it is the most interesting, description that has ever been written of
this underground wonderland, prepared as it was after a careful
examination of the geology of the cave as well as of its splendors:
“At some period, long subsequent to its original excavation, and after
many large stalactites had grown, the cavern was completely filled with
glacial mud, whereby the drip-stone was eroded into singularly grotesque
shapes. After the mud had been mostly removed by flowing water, these
eroded forms remained amid the new growths. To this contrast may be
ascribed some of the most striking scenes of the cave. The many, and
extraordinary monuments of aqueous energy include massive columns
wrenched from their place in the ceiling and prostrate on the floor; the
hollow column forty feet high and thirty feet in diameter, standing
erect, but pierced by a tubular passage from top to bottom; the leaning
column, nearly as large, undermined and tilting like the Campanila of
Pisa; the organ, a cluster of stalactites, dropped point downward, and
standing thus in the room known as the Cathedral; besides a vast bed of
disintegrated carbonates left by the whirling flood in its retreat
through the great space called the Elfin Ramble.
“The stalactite display exceeds that of any other cavern known, and
there is hardly a square yard on the walls or ceiling that is not thus
ornamented. The old material is yellow, brown or red, and its wavy
surface often shows layers like the gnarled grain of costly woods. The
new stalactites growing from the old, and made of hard carbonates that
had already once been used, are usually white as snow, though often
pink, blue or amber-colored. The size attained by single specimens is
surprising. The Empress Column is a stalagmite thirty-five feet high,
rose-colored and elaborately draped. The Double Column is made of two
fluted pillars side by side, the one twenty-five, the other sixty feet
high, a mass of snowy alabaster. Several stalactites in the Giant’s Hall
exceed fifty feet in length. The small pendants are innumerable; in the
canopy above the Imperial Spring it is estimated that forty thousand are
visible at once.
“The Cascades are wonderful formations, like foaming cataracts caught in
mid-air, and transformed into milk-white or amber alabaster, while the
Chalcedony Cascade displays a variety of colors. Brand’s Cascade, which
is the finest of all, being forty feet high, and almost as wide, is
unsullied and wax-like white, each ripple and braided rill appearing to
have been polished.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE SARACEN’S TENT, LURAY CAVERNS, VIRGINIA.—The fervid imagination of
youth, or the dreamer under the influence of the delirium-inducing
hashish intoxicant in India’s climes, never riveted gaze on visions
more wondrously beautiful than Luray’s intervals of divine
architecture. Here and there are polished stalagmites, rich bluffs
slashed with white, and others like huge mushrooms, with a velvety
coat of red, purple or olive-tinted crystals. Some of the
stalactites have their tips under water long enough to allow tassels
of crystal to grow upon them, which in a drier season are again
coated over with stalactite matter, by which many singular
distortions are occasioned.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: CADEDENEAN FALLS, DINGMAN’S FERRY.]
“The Swords of the Titans are monstrous blades, eight in number, fifty
feet long, three to eight feet wide, and one to two feet thick, but are
hollow and drawn down to an extremely fine edge, filling the cavern with
tones like tolling bells, when struck by the hand. Their origin, and
also that of certain so-called scarfs and blankets exhibited, is from
carbonates deposited by water trickling down a sloping and corrugated
surface. Sixteen of these alabaster scarfs hang side by side in Hovey’s
Balcony, three white and fine as crape shawls, thirteen striated like
agate, with every shade of brown, and all perfectly transparent. Down
the edge of each a tiny rill glistens like silver, and this is the ever-
plying shuttle that weaves this fairy fabric.
“Streams and true springs are absent, but there are hundreds of basins,
varying from one to fifty feet in diameter, and from six inches to
fifteen feet in depth. The water in them is exquisitely pure, except as
it is impregnated by the carbonate of lime, which often forms
concretions called, according to their size, pearls, eggs, and snow-
balls. A large one is known as the Cannon-Ball. When fractured, these
spherical growths are found to be radiated in structure. Calcite
crystals, drusy, feathery, or fern-like, line the sides and bottoms of
every water-filled cavity, and, indeed, constitute the substance of
which they are formed. Variations of level at different periods are
marked by rings, ridges, and ruffled margins. These are especially
strongly marked about Broaddus Lake, and the curved ramparts of the
Castles on the Rhine. Here, also, are polished stalagmites, a rich buff
slashed with white, and others, like huge mushrooms, with a velvety coat
of red, purple, or olive-tinted crystals. In some of the smaller basins
it sometimes happens that when the excess of carbonic acid escapes
rapidly there is formed, besides the crystal beds below, a film above,
shot like a sheet of ice across the surface. One pool twelve feet wide
is thus covered so as to show but a third of its surface. The quantity
of water varies greatly at different seasons; hence some stalactites
have their tips under water long enough to allow tassels of crystal to
grow on them, which in a drier season are again coated over with
stalactitic matter, by which singular distortions are occasioned.
Contiguous stalactites are often enwrapped thus till they assume an
almost globular form, through which, by making a section, the primary
tubes appear. Twig-like projections, lateral outgrowths, to which the
term _helictite_ has been applied, are met with in certain portions of
the cave, and are interesting by reason of their strange and uncouth
contortions. Their presence is partly due to the existence of a
diminutive fungus peculiar to the locality, and designated from its
habitat, _Mucor Stalactitis_. The Toy Shop is an amusing collection of
these freaks of nature.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
FARM SCENE IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHENANDOAH, VIRGINIA.—The war between
the States found the valley of the Shenandoah an ideal pastoral
country, of rich and beautiful farms, of wealthy and aristocratic
families, where life in its ease and sunshine rivaled that in older
lands. The war left it a bare, blackened and blasted region, its
homes destroyed, its farms desolated, and its able-bodied population
decimated in the field. But it has fully recovered again. Grass and
grain have woven Nature’s beautiful covering over all the scars of
battle, and once more the fields and orchards are laden with
flowers, while the lowing of the cattle and the song of the
contented husbandman are heard in place of the discordant drum and
the ruthless clash of arms.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
“The dimensions of the various chambers included in Luray Caverns cannot
be given, on account of the great irregularity of their outlines. Nor
can their size be estimated from a diagram, because there are several
tiers of galleries, and the vertical depth, from the highest to the
lowest, is two hundred and sixty feet. The tract of one hundred acres,
owned by the Luray Cave Company, covers all possible modes of entrance,
and the explored area is much less than that. The waters of this cavern
appear to be entirely destitute of life; and the existing fauna is quite
meager, comprising a few bats, rats, mice, spiders, flies and small
centipedes. When the cave was first entered the floor was covered with
thousands of tracks of bears, wolves and raccoons, most of them probably
made long ago, as impressions in the tenacious clay that composes most
of the cavern-floor would remain for centuries. The traces of human
occupation, as yet discovered, are pieces of charcoal, flints, moccasin
tracks, and a single skeleton imbedded in a stalagmite in one of the
chasms, estimated to have lain where found for not more than five
hundred years, judging from the present rate of stalagmitic growth.”
Accurate and beautiful as is Mr. Hovey’s description of Luray Caverns,
yet words, however ingeniously used, fail utterly to convey a true idea
of the incomparable splendors of this under-world palace which gleams
with unspeakable glories, such as God alone can create. Aladdin, in the
Arabic tale which so delighted our youthful fancy, was permitted to
enter a cave which exhibited such decorations that its very beauty both
dazzled and affrighted; and to his amazement was added the greater
wonder, that the cavern thus wrought of precious stones was the work of
a geni, who was slave to a lamp and ring. But the fervid imagination of
youth, or the dreamer under influence of the delirium-inducing hasheesh
intoxicant in India’s climes, never riveted gaze upon vision more
wondrously beautiful than Luray’s intervals of divine architecture; nor
was Aladdin’s Cave half so charming. The Throne-Room, canopied with
curtains woven of pearls and diamonds; “The Saracen’s Tent,” in which
more than oriental splendors of richest damasks and golden samite sweep
round the crystal couch in festoons of magic beauty; Titania’s Veil of
petrified spider’s webs and crystallized harmonies, behind which the
queen of fairies hides from Æolus; and the Ball-Room, with best
adornments, as if to celebrate a marriage between the gods; all these
and many more, in fast succession of admiring surprise, compose the
Caverns of Luray, of which it has been said: “Mortal hath not made the
like, nor human fancy conceived a thing more magnificent.” Let the
illustrations herewith convey an idea of the beauty which language
cannot express.
The uniform temperature of the cave is 54° Fahrenheit, which is the same
as Mammoth Cave, and as the chamber-floors are dry, visitors are not
fatigued or discomforted by long walks through the labyrinthine
passages, where every step taken brings fresh marvels into view. To the
curiously inclined the inquiry, not often asked, will appear very
interesting: How did the animals whose foot-prints were noticed in the
tenacious clay, by those who made the discovery, get into the cave? The
opening by which the chambers are reached is an artificial one, made at
the point where Mr. Campbell detected the hollow by stamping on the
ground, as explained. No other ingress is yet known, though the cave has
not been thoroughly explored; so it is possible, or probable even, that
other means of entrance have long continued open, but the possibility
also remains that its entering passage-ways may have been sealed up by
an invasion of glacial drift, since the flood; marks of that tremendous
cataclysm are plainly to be seen in the cave, and not all of the
diluvium deposit has been yet removed or ground under foot by the 10,000
persons who visit the caverns annually.
A trip up the Shenandoah Valley, though made in a luxurious coach on a
swift-moving train, is attended by innumerable reminders of the great
civil war, for the journey is over a succession of hotly-contested
battle-fields; but the beautiful scenery, rich lands, and lovely farm
scenes that now compose the landscape, cannot efface the recollection
which monuments and cemeteries constantly revive. General Boynton has
drawn a truthful picture of this war-famous section, in this wise:
“Every foot south of the Potomac was fighting-ground; every town was, at
some time, the headquarters of well-known forces; nearly every farm
house was a hospital, and some of the dead and wounded of the many
contests had fallen on every acre. On the Union side Fremont and Sigel,
Milroy and Shields, Hunter and Banks, Kelley and Crook, Wilson and
Sheridan, and others of note had there met Jackson, Ewell, Early,
Stewart, Ashby, and the advance of Lee in force. There were innumerable
small affairs, and many extended and fierce engagements. Columns in
advance and in retreat ebbed and flowed there through every year of the
war; while every gap opening eastward poured its footmen and its
horsemen upon the flanks, first of the one army, and then of the other.
From the opening of the contest till is close it was the vortex of
strategy. The war found it an ideal pastoral country, of rich and
beautiful farms, of wealthy and aristocratic families, where life in its
ease and sunshine rivaled that in older lands. It was the granary and
store-house of the Confederacy. The war left it a bare, blackened, and
blasted region, its homes destroyed, its farms desolated, and its able-
bodied population decimated in the field. But it has fully recovered
again. Grass and grain have woven nature’s beautiful covering over all
scars of battle, and the countless miles of parapets are green each year
with verdure, and the fields and orchards are laden with flowers again.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
HARPER’S FERRY, WEST VIRGINIA, FROM BOLIVAR HEIGHTS.—Harper’s Ferry is
a place of great scenic as well as historic interest; but it is the
magnificent scenery surrounding the place that now chiefly attracts
the tourist’s attention. From Maryland Heights, on the opposite side
of the Potomac, the observer is able to look into seven counties and
across stretches of three States, the view being at last arrested by
a soft haze that crowns the summit of the Blue Ridge range. The
Shenandoah River unites with the Potomac at this point, sprinkled
with white-crested waves that dash and roar over the boulders that
uselessly attempt to impede its progress.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The southwestern branch of the Baltimore and Ohio skirts the Cumberland
Range, following the valley of the Shenandoah, until it joins the main
line at Harper’s Ferry, where the Shenandoah and Potomac likewise form a
junction, each stream cleaving a way through the mountains and watering
a region of extraordinary scenic beauty. Sheridan, when operating in
these valleys, declared that the country was so barren that a crow would
have to carry its rations when flying over it; but the country has
blossomed into fertility since that time, and now presents glorious
visions of great productiveness, as well as bluffs and mountains of
rugged picturesqueness.
Harper’s Ferry was well known before the war as being the location of
one of the important Government armories and arsenals, which were
destroyed soon after the beginning of hostilities, and have not since
been rebuilt. Its chief fame, however, is derived from the fact that the
town was the seat of the John Brown insurrection (in October, 1859); and
at Charleston, seven miles distant, on the road to Winchester, is the
place where he was tried and executed. Harper’s Ferry was thus not only
the scene of the opening events of the war, but it remained the center
of action for a long time, being alternately occupied by the Union and
Confederate forces, who contended with varying fortunes, but always with
immense loss of life, in efforts to retain it as a base for their
supplies. It is the magnificent scenery surrounding the place that now
attracts the tourist’s interest, for a more beautiful section of
mountain country is nowhere to be seen in the East. Particularly fine
views are afforded from Maryland Heights, on the opposite side of the
Potomac, and from Bolivar Heights, which are above the town, the latter
being a more extensive perspective, commanding as it does a long stretch
of river and the huge mountain ramparts on the south. From this point of
observation, too, the Shenandoah River is presented to the view,
sprinkled with white-crested waves dashing over smooth-worn bowlders,
that have long lain in its course, and its frowning shores that rise up
into towering mountains and form a chain of peaks that girdle the
horizon. From Maryland Heights the observer is able to look into seven
counties, and across stretches of three States, the view being at last
arrested by a soft haze that crowns the soaring summits of the Blue
Ridge Range. The route from Harper’s Ferry was north by way of the
Baltimore and Ohio and the Cumberland Valley Railroads to Harrisburg,
and thence some of the fine scenery of Pennsylvania was visited,
particularly that which lies along the line of the Pennsylvania
Railroad. In going East, the first view of great interest which greets
the eyes of observant travelers along this road, after leaving
Pittsburgh, is Johnstown, a great manufacturing place, at the confluence
of Conemaugh River and Stony Creek, but whose largest fame dates from
June 1, 1889, when the town was swept by one of the most appalling
cataclysms that has found a record in history. On that ever-memorable
date the immense reservoir away up in the Alleghenies that held the
waters of South Fork, burst without warning and rushed down, a very
devastating monster, into the smiling valley, which it overwhelmed with
a flood forty feet deep. The result is too awful to dwell upon; two
thousand people were whirled to their death, and the city was carried
from its foundations, with a loss of $10,000,000. But Johnstown has
recovered from the terrible blow which it received on that opening day
of summer, and the blazing forge of the rolling-mills has again brought
prosperity to the place.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE HORSESHOE CURVE AT KITTANNING, PENNSYLVANIA.—This point is in one
of the finest scenic localities of the great State of Pennsylvania,
the rolling and broken hills rising in many places almost to the
dignity of mountains. The valleys and sloping sides of the hills are
covered with rich and well-cultivated farms, adorned with elegant
farm-houses, barns and other improvements, superior to almost any of
the other rural districts of our country. It is a region also famous
for fruits of various kinds, and in the early spring the whole
country seems abloom with the apple, peach, pear and other fragrant
and familiar blossoms.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beyond Johnstown a magnificent panorama of the Alleghenies breaks into
view with their myriad phases of beauty and grandeur. As we follow down
the Conemaugh, along the breast of the mountains are the remains of
inclined planes of the Portage Railroad, by which loaded canal-boats
were transported over the mountains at points where the canal was not
yet constructed. This was before the days of steam railroads, when
canals were the most expeditious mode of freight transportation. Beyond
Cressons the road begins the ascent of the Alleghenies, and in doing so
makes many turns, and from the right hand of the road a gorgeous
spectacle is presented looking down into the valleys, where the houses
are dwarfed by distance until they look like mole-hills, and men are not
distinguishable. There are horseshoe curves as sharp and graceful as any
on the roads that climb over western mountains, while the scene is often
more picturesque because of the high state of cultivation of the
mountain slopes. A tunnel three-quarters of a mile in length pierces the
brow of one of the highest peaks, after which the road descends rapidly
to Cressons, a place noted for its seven mineral springs. Altoona is
next passed, and a few minutes later the train rushes around the
beautiful horseshoe curve at Kittanning, affording a charming prospect
of lofty mountains, surrounding a lake of exquisite beauty, made by
damming a pretty stream that comes gamboling down from cool retreats in
the high altitudes.
Out of the Tuckahoe Valley and on to Tyrone, where the Little Juniata is
reached, along whose sweet-smelling banks the road hastens by Broad Top
Mountain, Sliding Hill, through the gap of Jack’s Mountain, and thence
into the Long Narrows, which is traversed by highway, river and canal,
running in competition with the railroad. For several miles the scenery
is wondrously beautiful, with kaleidoscopic glimpses of swift-passing
mountain, foaming water-ways, laughing cascades, and bounty-bestowing
valleys bedewed with the delicious waters of the blue Juniata. Thence on
to Harrisburg the road speeds, with many a twist through smiling vales
that swathe the mountain’s feet with ribbons of verdure; across the
Susquehanna, where the river is more than a mile wide and freckled with
impeding stones. Lancaster is soon reached, and thence eastward the
scenery grows in grandeur until Chester Valley is passed and Paoli comes
into view. This place is famous in history from the fact that here took
place a massacre which will be remembered for ages as a reproach to the
British. On September 20, 1777, the American forces under General
Anthony Wayne were surprised by a large army of British regulars,
commanded by General Gray. Notwithstanding the superior numbers of the
enemy and his unpreparedness, General Wayne offered a stubborn
resistance, and not until nearly one-half his men had fallen in the
desperate conflict did he capitulate, upon terms of honorable surrender.
Instead of observing the rules which obtain among civilized nations,
after the Americans had laid down their arms the British mercilessly
slaughtered many of their helpless prisoners. A monument, erected in
1817, marks the site of this shameful tragedy. Eastward from Paoli the
road traverses one of the fairest sections in the world, resembling the
richest agricultural regions of England, where the soil is in the
highest possible state of cultivation and the farm houses are models of
architectural elegance, with a gradual increase in the beauties of the
prosperous landscape until the train pursues its way through Fairmount
Park and into the great metropolis of Philadelphia.
Northward from Philadelphia our artist traveled, through Bethlehem to
the Delaware Water Gap, where the Delaware River forges its way through
the Blue Mountains, the point of passage being narrowed by walls from
1,200 to 1,600 feet high, which seem to clasp the sturdy stream in
colossal arms, of half affection and half restraint. This tremendous
gorge formerly bore the Indian name of Minnisink, signifying “Whence the
waters are gone,” which is thus explained by a local geologist: “Here a
vast lake once probably extended; and whether the great body of water
wore its way through the mountain by a fall like Niagara, or burst
through a gorge, it is certain that the Minnisink country bears the mark
of aqueous action in its diluvial soil, and in its rounded hills, built
of pebbles and bowlders.” The gap proper is about two miles long, when
the mountains recede on both sides, as if at one time some terrific
disturbance had thrown up a giant ridge in the path of the river. It is
apparent also that centuries ago the passage, though hardly more than
one hundred yards wide now, was very much narrower, and the name given
to it by the Indians was no doubt suggested by this cleft through which
the pent-up waters must have dashed with terrific force and roar.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: NATURAL BRIDGE OF VIRGINIA.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
LITTLE NECK OF THE SUSQUEHANNA RIVER, PENNSYLVANIA.—The Susquehanna
River takes its rise in the northern part of Pennsylvania and flows
southward into Chesapeake Bay. Its entire course passes through a
richly diversified and splendid scenic region, equaling in many
respects the scenery along the Rhine River in Germany, and lacking
only the castles and the ancient historic associations to make it as
popular with tourists as its less poetically named sister of the
Fatherland.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The two mountains between which the river passes are named in honor of
two famous Indian chiefs, that on the New Jersey side being called
Tammany, and the one on the Pennsylvania shore being known as Minsi.
Chief Tammany was of the Delaware tribe, whose bravery and magnanimity
was such that he was canonized as the patron saint of America, but his
name is best perpetuated by New York City’s political organization. The
two mountains, adjacent, and which were no doubt one before the wearing
waters cut a way through it, exhibit marked differences, which, to a
casual observer, would seem to controvert this theory. Mount Minsi is a
graceful peak crowned with dense forest growths, while Tammany is a
gigantic rock that rises in broken ledges, almost terraces, from the
river, on one of which, two hundred feet above the river, a hotel has
been built to accommodate summer tourists. And the scenery is grand
enough to lure lovers of the picturesque in nature. Just below the hotel
falls a silvery cascade whose waters are derived from Hunter’s Spring,
that bursts out of the mountain side, and perambulates through many
sequestered nooks, moss-covered and beflowered, before it drops into a
pool called Diana’s Bath, thence over Caldeno Falls, and slides into the
river. Above the source of the waterfall is a lofty ledge known as
Lover’s Leap, and to the left another promontory called Prospect Rock,
while near-by is a clear lake on the very apex of the mountain, which
visitors are told is of an unfathomable depth.
But though Tammany is the more ruggedly picturesque, Minsi offers the
more entrancing prospect, expanding on the east until the whole of New
Jersey seems to be spread out to view. A mile below the Gap the scenery
becomes curiously pretty, for the river has worn the banks into grottoes
and fantastic forms. Here are such objects of interest as Indian Ladder
Bluff, Cold-Air Cave, Point of Rocks, Bumer’s Spring, etc., while a few
miles above the Gap there are bits of nature positively charming.
Bushkill Creek pours its contribution into the Delaware five miles from
the Gap and a few hundred yards from its outlet the stream tumbles over
a precipice twenty feet high in a sheet of water that looks like a
curtain of lace. On an affluent of the Bushkill are two other cataracts
of even greater beauty, known as Buttermilk and Marshall, both of which
may be reached in a half-hour’s walk from the river, and are within
seven miles of the hotel on Tammany’s ledge. A feature of the Water Gap,
which vies in interest with the natural scenery, is the railroad-bed
around the base of Tammany, where it exacts a space from both the river
and the mountain, in order to secure sufficient width for passage. At
this point the gap is narrowest and the cliffs most stupendous, right
where the jaws of the gorge are set in firmest resolution to prevent a
full flow of the river, and where a rushing current betrays irritation
at the impediment by a ceaseless roar.
Twenty-five miles above the Water Gap is another section of wild and
weirdly grand scenery, where Dingman’s Creek carols through the copses
and takes a header into the Delaware, like a swimmer at the bath.
Dingman’s Ferry is a small hamlet containing a score of houses, but what
it lacks in population is made up in public interest by its picturesque
surroundings. The region is intersected by numerous streams, which are
noted for their impetuous courses and numerous falls. Of these Colosseum
Falls are the largest, and by many are regarded as the most beautiful;
but Bridal Veil Falls are more exquisitely fascinating to the artist.
The stream is not large, but the precipice is high, and so gracefully
terraced that the water makes a succession of leaps, and each time is
spread by the ledges until at its last fall it is as airy as a bride’s
veil. Its sedgy banks and bosky shelves add to the general effect in a
way that compels the thought of fairy bowers and naiads’ retreats.
Factory Falls are the largest cataracts of this sylvan region, pouring a
considerable volume of water over serrated brinks, and twisting around
in shapely ways that add ineffable grace to the boiling, laughing and
playful waters. Cadedenean Falls are almost as graceful, but are spread
over a greater surface, and fall into the creek in the form of an
outspread fan. The “Brakes and Braes of Bonny Doon” were not more
charming to the eyes of the poet than the soul-delighting coverts and
falls about Dingman’s. In the spring-time these streams are swollen to
immense proportions, and it is then that the falls display their
greatest grandeur, filling the woods with their torrential orisons; but
in summer they exhibit the most marvelous graces, for it is then the
waters are crystalline in their purity, and the dewy mosses along their
brinks look like garlands of diamonds, which the branches of bordering
thickets stoop down to kiss.
From Dingman’s Ferry our photographer passed on to Milford, and thence
by the Erie Road to New York City, where a junction was made with the
two other photographers for a trip to the sunny lands of the South.
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