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Star Wars Lightsaber Battles

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.
found there. The old dame spoke lovingly of her as "that Liza;" and
she talked about her till she had seen my foot into the stirrup, and
given me her blessing up the mountain.
The path was steep, and the summit bare. There was an opening for
a single moment on our arrival; the mist parted and closed again,
having shown us what a view there was beneath us of green
mountains, and blue ponds, and wooded levels. We were
entertained for some time with such glimpses; more beautiful
perhaps than an unrestricted vision. Such revelations take away
one's breath. When all was misty again, we amused ourselves with
gathering blue-berries, which grew profusely under foot. The old
man, too, was ready with any information we desired about himself;
and with abundance of anecdotes of summer travellers, to whom he
had acted as guide.
He was a soldier of the revolution; and at its close, retired hither,
with his bride, among bears and deer. There are no deer left; and he
killed nineteen bears with his own hand: the last, thirty-five years
before. One of them was nearly the death of him. A shot which he
intended to be mortal was not so. The wounded bear chased him;
and there was nothing to be done but to run round and round a
tree, loading his gun, while the bear was at his heels, blowing foam
and blood upon him. He fired over his shoulder, and dispatched his
pursuer. He told us, when the curtain of mist finally drew up, the
opinions of learned men whom he had conducted hither, about this
mountain having once been an island in the midst of a vast lake. He
pointed out how it is, even now, nearly surrounded by waters; Long
Pond, Lake Winnepisseogee, and Squam Lake. The two last are so
crowded with islands that the expression of the water is broken up.
The islands lie in dark slips upon the gleamy surface, dividing it into
too many pond-like portions. But the mountain horizon was
altogether beautiful. Some had sharp peaks, some notched; the
sides of some were bare, with traces of tremendous slides: others,
green as the spring, with wandering sun gleams and cloud shadows.
I found myself much mistaken in my fancy that I did not care for
bird's-eye views.
The dame was looking out for us when we descended, anxious to
detain us for more talk, and to make us bearers of a present to "that
Liza." She hung some strings of her drying apples over the arm of a
gentleman of the party, with the utmost faith that he would take
care of them all the way to Boston. He kindly received them; and I
can testify that he did his best to make them reach their destination.
It was kindness well bestowed; for no doubt it was a winter luxury
of the good dame's to fancy our mutual friend enjoying her Red
Mountain applesauce. The sending a present to Boston must be a
rare event to dwellers in such a solitude.
Not many miles from this place, stands a deserted dwelling whose
inhabitants lived in a deeper solitude, and perished all in one night,
far from human aid. No house stands within many miles of it, even
now. I had heard the story before I saw the place; but I had no idea
of the difference between listening to a sad tale, and seeing the spot
of which it is told. In a deep narrow valley among the White
Mountains, lived a family of the name of Willey. Their dwelling was a
comfortable log-house, on a green platform, at the foot of one of the
steepest mountains. There were but few travellers among these
mountains in their day; but those few were kindly welcomed: and
the cheerful host and hostess, and their comely children, were
always well spoken of. On a stormy August night, 1826, a
tremendous slide came crashing down the mountain side, at the rear
of the house. If the family had remained in their chambers, they
would have been safe: a rock at the edge of the green platform,
behind the dwelling, parted the slide, so that the grassy plot
remained untouched,—a bright island in the midst, of the desolation.
The family, to the number of nine, were overwhelmed, and all
perished. The bodies of seven were found. The bones of the other
two are doubtless buried under the slide, where rank verdure and
young trees are growing up, as if trying to efface the horrors of the
wreck. The scene must have been dreadful to those who first arrived
at the spot, after the event. The house, safe on its grass plot; its
door standing wide; the beds and clothes of the family showing that
they had sprung up from sleep, and so fled from the only place
where they would have been safe; no one there; a deadly silence
brooding over the quiet spot, and chaotic desolation around;—it is
no wonder that the house remains deserted, and the valley
untenanted.
Some miles further on, the traveller may witness what comfortable
cheer may be afforded by dwellers in the wilderness. All travellers in
the White Mountains know Ethan A. Crawford's hospitality. He
cannot be said to live in solitude, inasmuch as there is another
house in the valley: but everybody is aware how little sociability
there is between two dwellers in a lonely place. One may enjoy life
there; and several may get on well; but two never: and Ethan
Crawford's is a virtual solitude, except for three months in the year.
The fate of the Willeys was uppermost in our minds when we
arrived; and we were little prepared for such entertainment as we
found. After a supper of fine lake trout, a son of our host played to
us on a nameless instrument, made by the joiners who put the
house together, and highly creditable to their ingenuity. It was
something like the harmonica in form, and the bagpipes in tone; but,
well-played as it was by the boy, it was highly agreeable. Then Mr.
Crawford danced an American jig, to the fiddling of a relation of his.
The dancing was somewhat solemn; but its good faith made up for
any want of mirth. He had other resources for the amusement of his
guests: a gun wherewith he was wont to startle the mountain
echoes, till, one day, it burst: (leaving nothing for us to do but to
look at the fragments:) also, a horn, which, blown on a calm day,
brings a chorus of sweet responses from the far hill sides.
Retirement in such a valley, and with such resources as Ethan
Crawford's, is attractive enough to the passing traveller; and, to
judge by the countenance of the host, anything but dispiriting to
those who have made trial of it.
No solitude can be more romantic than that at the mouth of the
Mammoth Cave in Kentucky; so called, not because any mammoth-
bones have been found there, but because it is the largest explored
cave in the world. I was told, not only by the guides, but by a
gentleman who is learned in caves, that it can be travelled through,
in different directions, to the extent of sixty miles. We could not
think of achieving the entire underground journey; but we resolved
to see all we could; and, for that purpose, preferred devoting the
half of two days to the object, to one entire day, the weariness of
which would probably curtail our rambles. After a most interesting
and exciting journey of nearly two nights and a day from Nashville,
Tennessee, our party, consisting of four, arrived at Bell's hotel,
twelve miles from the cave, at half-past seven, on a bright May
morning. We slept till one o'clock, and then set off in a stage and
four for the cave. My expectations had been so excited, that every
object on the road seemed to paint itself on my very spirit; and I
now feel as if I saw the bright hemp fields, the oak copses, the
gorgeous wild flowers, and clear streams, running over their
limestone beds, that adorned our short journey.
The house at the cave stands on the greenest sward that earth and
dews can produce; and it grows up to the very walls of the dwelling.
The well, with its sweep,—a long pole, with a rope and bucket at
one end, laid across the top of a high post,—this primitive well, on
the same plot of turf, and the carriage in which two travellers—
young men—had just arrived, were the only occupiers of the grass,
besides the house. We lost no time in proceeding to the cave. The
other party of travellers and the guides carried lamps, and grease to
trim them with; an ample supply of both; for the guides know
something of the horrors of being left in darkness in the mazes of a
cave. We went down a steep path into a glen, from which the golden
sunlight seemed reflected, as from water; so bright was the May
verdure. The guides carried our cloaks; which seemed to us very
ridiculous; for we were panting with the heat. But, when we had
wound down to the yawning, shadowy cave, with its diamond drips
and clustering creepers about the entrance, a blast of wintry wind
gushed from it, and chilled our very hearts. I found it possible to
stand on one foot, and be in the midst of melting heat; and leaning
forward on the other, to feel half frozen. The humming birds must be
astonished, when they flit across the entrance, to meet winter in the
middle of the glen, and emerge into summer again on the other
side.
The entrance of the cave serves as an ice-house to the family of the
guide. They keep their meat there, and go to refresh themselves
when relaxed by the heat. The temperature is delightful, after the
first two or three minutes; and we were glad to leave our cloaks by
the way side. The ladies tied handkerchiefs over their heads, and
tucked up their gowns for the scramble over the loose limestone;
looking thereby very picturesque, and not totally unlike the witches
in Macbeth. The gloom, the echo of the footsteps, the hollow sound
of voices, the startling effect of lights seen unexpectedly in a recess,
in a crevice, or high overhead,—these impressions may be recalled
in those who have wandered in caves, but can never be
communicated to those who have not. It is in vain to describe a
cave. Call it a chaos of darkness and rocks, with wandering and
inexplicable sounds and motions, and all is done. Everything appears
alive: the slowly growing stalactites, the water ever dropping into
the plashing pool, the whispering airs,—all seem conscious. The
coolness, vastness, suggestions of architecture, and dim disclosures,
occasion different feelings from any that are known under the lights
of the sky. The air in the neighbourhood of the waterfall was
delicious to breathe; and the pool was so clear that I could not, for
some time, see the water, in a pretty full light. That Rembrandt light
on the drip of water, on the piled rocks, and on our figures,—light
swallowed up before it could reach the unseen canopy under which
we stood, can never be forgotten. Milton's lake of fire might have
brought the roof into view:—nothing less.
The young guides, brothers, were fine dashing youths, as Kentucky
youths are. They told us some horrible tales, and one very
marvellous story about darkness and bewilderment in the labyrinth
of the cave. They told us (before they knew that any of us were
English) that "all the lords and lights of England had been to see the
cave, except the king." While they were about it, they might as well
have included his majesty. Perhaps they have, by this time; good
stories being of very rapid growth. They reported that ladies hold on
in the cave better than gentlemen. One of the party supposed this
was because they were lighter; but the guide believed it was owing
to their having more curiosity.
I was amused at their assurances about the number of miles that we
had walked; and thought it as good a story as any they had told us:
but, to my utter amazement, I found, on emerging from the cave,
that the stars were shining resplendently down into the glen, while
the summer lightning was quivering incessantly over the "verdurous
wall" which sprang up to a lofty height on either hand. There
seemed to be none of the coolness of night abroad. A breathless
faintness came over us on quitting the freshness of the cave, and
taught us the necessary caution of resting awhile at the entrance.
Supper was ready when we returned; and then the best room was
assigned to the three ladies, while the gentlemen were to have the
loft. We saw the stars through chinks in our walls; but it was warm
May, and we feared no cold. Shallow tin-pans,—milk-pans, I believe,
—were furnished to satisfy our request for ewer and basin. The
windows had blinds of paper-hanging; a common sort of window-
blind at hotels, and in country places. Before it was light, I was
wakened by a strong cold breeze blowing upon me; and at dawn, I
found that the entire lower half of the window was absent. A deer
had leaped through it, a few weeks before; and there had been no
opportunity of mending it. But everything was clean; everybody was
obliging; the hostess was motherly; and the conclusion that we
came to in the morning was that we had all slept well, and were
ready for a second ramble in the cave.
We saw, this day, the Grotto and the Deserted Chamber. Few visitors
attempt the grotto, the entrance to it being in one part only a foot
and a half high. We were obliged, not only to go on hands and
knees, but to crawl lying flat. It is a sensation worth knowing, to feel
oneself imprisoned in the very heart of a mountain, miles from the
sun-light, and with no mode of escape but the imperceptible hole
which a child might block up in five minutes. Never was there a
more magnificent prison or sepulchre. Whether the singularity of our
mode of access magnified to our eyes the beauties we had thereby
come into the midst of, or whether Nature does work most con
amore in retired places, this grotto seemed to us all by far the most
beautiful part of the cave. The dry sandy floor was pleasant to the
tread, after the loose limestone; the pillars were majestic; the freaks
of nature most wild and elegant. The air was so fresh and cool that,
if only a Rosicrucian lamp could be hung in this magnificent
chamber, it would be the place of all others in which to spend the
sultry summer's day,—entering when the beauties of the sunrise had
given place to glare, and issuing forth at the rising of the evening
star.
On our way to the Deserted Chamber, we cut off half a mile by a
descent through a crevice, and a re-ascent by another. We were
presently startled by the apparition of two yellow stars, at what
appeared an immeasurable distance. In this cave, I was reminded,
after a total forgetfulness of many years, of the night-mare
visitations of my childhood; especially of the sense of infinite
distance, which used to terrify me indescribably. Here, too, the
senses and the reason were baulked. Those two yellow stars might
have been worlds, many millions of miles off in space, or,—what
they were,—two shabby lamps, fifty yards off. A new visitor had
arrived; and the old man of the solitary house had brought him
down, in hopes of meeting our larger party. One of the gentlemen
presently slipped on the loose stones, and fell into a hole, with his
back against a sharp rock; and he seemed at first unable to rise.
This was the only misadventure we had; and it did not prove a
serious one. He was somewhat shaken and bruised, and rendered
unwilling to go with the rest to the Bottomless Pit: but there was no
eventual injury. He and I staid in the Deserted Chamber, while our
companions disappeared, one by one, through a crevice, on their
way to the pit. The dead silence, and the glimmer of our single
lamp, were very striking; and we were more disposed to look round
upon the low-roofed apartment, piled with stones as far as the eye
could reach, than to talk. I tried to swallow a piece of bread or cake,
very like a shoe-sole, and speculated upon these piles of stones;—by
whose hand they were reared, and how long ago. There is much
cane—doubtless, once used for fuel—scattered about the deeper
recesses of the cave; and these stones were evidently heaped up by
human hands: and those not Indian. It is supposed that this cave
was made use of by that mysterious race which existed before the
Indians, and of which so many curious traces remain in the middle
States of the West; a race more civilized, to judge by the works of
their hands, than the Indians have ever been; but of which no
tradition remains.
Our party returned safe, and refreshed by a draught of water, better
worth having than my luncheon of bread. When we left the cave,
our guides insisted upon it that we had walked, this morning, ten or
eleven miles. I pronounced it four. Others of the party said seven;
and the point remains unsettled. We all agreed that it was twice as
much as we could have accomplished in the heat above ground; and
perhaps the most remarkable walk we had ever taken in our lives.
Our hostess was with us the whole time; and it was amusing to see
in her the effect of custom. She trod the mazes of this cave just as
people do the walks of their own garden.
The gush of sun-light pouring in at the mouth of the cave, green and
soft, as we emerged from the darkness, was exquisitely beautiful. So
was the foliage of the trees, after the rigid forms which had been
printing themselves upon our eye-sight for so many hours. As we sat
at the entrance, to accustom ourselves to the warm outward air, I
saw, growing high in the steep woods, the richest of kalmias, in full
bloom. One of the gentlemen ran to bring me some; and when it
came, it was truly a feast to the eye. How apt are we to look upon
all things as made for us! How many seasons has this kalmia
bloomed?
We were truly sorry to bid farewell to our motherly hostess, and her
"smart" sons. Theirs is a singular mode of life; and it left nearly as
vivid an impression on our minds as their mighty neighbour, the
cave. If any of us should ever happen to be banished, and to have a
home to seek, I fancy we should look out for a plot of green sward,
among flowering kalmias, near the mouth of an enormous cave, with
humming birds flitting about it by day, and fire-flies and summer
lightning by night.

In strong contrast in my mind with such a scene as this, stands a

gay encampment in the wilderness, at which I soon after arrived.
The watering places among the Virginia mountains are as new and
striking a spectacle as the United States can afford. The journeyings
of those who visit them are a perpetual succession of contrasts. I
may as well give the whole journey from Cincinnati to the eastern
base of the Alleghanies.
We left Cincinnati at noon on the 25th of June: as sultry a summer's
day as ever occurs on the Ohio. The glare was reflected from the
water with a blinding and scorching heat; and feather fans were
whisking all day in the ladies' cabin of our steam-boat. Hot as it was,
I could not remain in the shady cabin. The shores of the Ohio are so
beautiful, that I could not bear to lose a single glimpse between the
hills. It is holiday-travelling to have such a succession of pictures as I
saw there made to pass noiselessly before one's eyes. There were
the children running among the gigantic trees on the bank, to see
the boat pass; the girl with her milk-pail, half way up the hill; the
horseman on the ridge, or the wagoner with his ox-team pausing on
the slope. Then there was the flitting blue jay under the cool shadow
of the banks; the butterflies crossing the river in zig-zag flight; the
terrapins (small turtle) floundering in the water, with their pert little
heads above the surface; and the glancing fire-flies every night.
On the afternoon of this day, we were met by the storm which swept
over the whole country, and which will be remembered as having
caused the death of the son of Chief-Justice Marshall, at Baltimore,
on his way to his dying father. I watched, from the deck, the
approach of the storm. First, the sky, above the white clouds, was of
a dark grey, which might have been mistaken for the deep blue of
twilight. Then a mass of black clouds came hurrying up below the
white. Then a flash escaped from out of the upper grey, darting
perpendicularly into the forest; and then another, exploding like the
four rays of a star. I saw the squall coming in a dark line, straight
across the river. Our boat was hurried under the bank to await it.
The burst was furious: a roaring gust, and a flood of rain, which
poured in under our cabin door, close shut as it was. All was nearly
as dark as night for a while, and all silent but the elements. Then
the day seemed to dawn again; but loud peals of thunder lasted
long, and the lightning was all abroad in the air. Faint flashes now
wandered by; and now a brilliant white zig-zag quivered across the
sky. One splendid violet-coloured shaft shot straight down into the
forest; and I saw a tall tree first blaze and then smoulder at the
touch. A noble horse floated by, dead and swollen. When we drew
out into the middle of the river, it was as if spring had come in at the
heels of the dog-days; all was so cool and calm.
The company on board were of the lowest class we ever happened
to meet with in our travels. They were obliging enough; as
everybody is throughout the country, as far as my experience goes;
but otherwise they were no fair specimens of American manners.
One woman excited my curiosity from the beginning; but I
entertained a much more agreeable feeling towards her when we
parted, after several days' travelling in company. Her first deed was
to ask where we were going; and her next, to take my book out of
my lap, and examine it. Much of the rest of her time was occupied in
dressing her hair, which was, notwithstanding, almost as rough as a
negro's. She wore in her head a silver comb, another set with
brilliants, and a third, an enormous tortoiseshell, so stuck in, on one
side, as to remind the observer, irresistibly, of a unicorn. She pulled
down her hair in company, and put it up again, many times in a day,
whenever, as it seemed to me, she could not think of anything else
to be doing. Her young companion, meantime, sat rubbing her teeth
with dragon-root. The other cabin company seemed much of the
same class. I was dressing in my state room between four and five
the next morning, when an old lady, who was presently going
ashore, burst in, and snatched the one tumbler glass from my hand.
She was probably as much amazed at my having carried it out of
sight as I was at her mode of recovering it.
I loved the early morning on the great rivers, and therefore rose at
dawn. I loved the first grey gleams that came from between the
hills, and the bright figures of people in white, (the men all in linen
jackets in hot weather,) on the banks. I loved to watch the river
craft; the fussy steamer making rapid way; the fairy canoe shooting
silently across; the flat-boat, with its wreath of blue smoke, stealing
down in the shadow of the banks, her navigators helping her along
in the current by catching at the branches as they passed: and the
perilous looking raft, with half-a-dozen people on it, under their
canopy of green boughs, their shapeless floor bending and walloping
in the middle of the stream. I loved the trees, looking as if they
stood self-poised, their roots were washed so bare. I loved the
dwellings that stood behind their screen, those on the eastern bank
seeming fast asleep; those on the western shore gay with the
flickering shadows cast on them by the breezy sunrise through the
trees.
On passing Catletsburgh we bade adieu to glorious Kentucky. At that
point, our eyes rested on three sovereign States at one glance, Ohio,
Kentucky, and Virginia. We landed at Guyandot, and proceeded by
stage the next morning to Charleston, on the Kanawha river. The
road, all the way to the Springs, is marvellously good for so wild a
part of the country. The bridges over the streams are, some of them,
prettily finished; and the accommodations by the road side are
above the average. The scenery is beautiful the whole way. We were
leaving the great Western Valley; and the road offered a succession
of ascents and levels. There were many rivulets and small waterfalls;
the brier-rose was in full bloom along the ground; the road ran half
way up the wooded hills, so that there were basins of foliage
underneath, the whole apparently woven into so compact a mass by
the wild vine, that it seemed as if one might walk across the valley
on the tree tops. The next day's dawn broke over the salt works and
coal pits, or rather caverns of coal, on the hill sides. The corn was
less tall and rich, the trees were less lofty, and it was apparent that
we were mounting to a higher region. It occurred to me, in a
careless kind of way, that we were now not very far from the Hawk's
Nest. Some ladies in the Guyandot Hotel had said to me, "Be sure
you see the Hawk's Nest." "What is that?" "A place that travellers
can see if they choose; the driver always stops a few minutes to let
them see the Hawk's Nest." I had never heard of it before, and I
never heard of it again. The world is fairly awakened to Niagara; but
it is still drowsy about two scenes which moved me—the one more
than Niagara, the other nearly as much; the platform at Pine
Orchard House, on the top of the Catshills, and the Hawk's Nest.
The last of the Kanawha River, as we bade adieu to it on the 28th of
June, was smooth and sweet, with its islets of rocks, and the pretty
bridge by which we crossed the Gauley, and entered upon the
ascent above New River. The Gauley and the New River join to make
the Kanawha. The ascent of the mountains above New River is
trying to weak nerves. The horses have to stop, here and there, to
rest; and it appears that if they were to back three steps, it would
be death. The road, however, is really broad, though it appears a
mere ledge when the eye catches the depth below, where the brown
river is rushing and brawling in its rocky bed. A passenger dropped
his cap in the steepest part, and the driver made no difficulty about
stopping to let him recover it. What a depth it was! like the dreamy
visions of one's childhood of what winged messengers may first
learn of man's dwelling-place, when they light on a mountain-top;
like Satan's glimpses from the Mount of Soliloquy; like any unusual
or forbidden peep from above into the retirements of nature, or the
arrangements of man. On our left rose the blasted rocks which had
been compelled to yield us a passage; but their aspect was already
softened by the trails of crimson and green creepers which were
spreading over their front. The unmeasured pent-house of wild vine
was still below us on the right, with rich rhododendron blossoms
bursting through, and rock-plants shooting up from every ledge and
crevice at the edge of the precipice. After a long while, (I have
nothing to say of time or distance, for I thought of neither,) a turn in
the road shut out the whole from our sight. I leaned out of the
stage, further and further, to catch, as I supposed, a last glimpse of
the tremendous valley; and when I drew in again, it was with a
feeling of deep grief that such a scene was to be beheld by me no
more. I saw a house, a comfortable homestead, in this wild place,
with its pasture and corn-fields about it; and I longed to get out, and
ask the people to let me live with them.
In a few minutes the stage stopped. "If any of the passengers wish
to go to the Hawk's Nest ..." shouted the driver. He gave us ten
minutes, and pointed with his whip to a beaten path in the wood to
the right. It seems to me now that I was unaccountably cool and
careless about it. I was absorbed by what I had seen, or I might
have known, from the direction we were taking, that we were
coming out above the river again. We had not many yards to go. We
issued suddenly from the covert of the wood, upon a small platform
of rock;—a Devil's Pulpit it would be called, if its present name were
not so much better;—a platform of rock, springing from the
mountain side, without any visible support, and looking sheer down
upon an angle of the roaring river, between eleven and twelve
hundred feet below. Nothing whatever intervenes. Spread out
beneath, shooting up around, are blue mountain peaks, extending in
boundless expanse. No one, I believe, could look down over the
edge of this airy shelf, but for the stunted pines which are fast
rooted in it. With each arm clasping a pine-stem, I looked over, and
saw more, I cannot but think, than the world has in reserve to show
me.
It is said that this place was discovered by Chief Justice Marshall,
when, as a young man, he was surveying among the mountains. But
how many Indians knew it before? How did it strike the mysterious
race who gave place to the Indians? Perhaps one of these may have
stood there to see the summer storm careering below; to feel that
his foothold was too lofty to be shaken by the thunderpeals that
burst beneath; to trace the quiverings of the lightnings afar, while
the heaven was clear above his own head. Perhaps this was the
stand chosen by the last Indian, from which to cast his lingering
glance upon the glorious regions from which the white intruders
were driving his race. If so, here he must have pined and died, or
hence he must have cast himself down. I cannot conceive that from
this spot any man could turn away, to go into exile. But it cannot be
that Marshall was more than the earliest of Saxon race who
discovered this place. Nature's thrones are not left to be first
mounted by men who can be made Chief Justices. We know not
what races of wild monarchs may have had them first.
We travelled the rest of the day through an Alpine region, still full of
beauty. The road is so new that the stopping places seemed to have
no names. The accommodations were wonderfully good. At eleven
we reached a place where we were allowed, not only to sup, but to
lie down for two hours; a similar mercy to that afforded us the night
before. Those who are impatient of fatigue should not attempt this
method of reaching the Virginia Springs, though they are much to be
pitied if they adopt any other. Our first re-entrance upon the world
was at Lewisburg, at noon, on the 29th. It appears to be a neat
village. The militia were parading: very respectable men, I do not
doubt, but not much like soldiers. In a quarter of an hour we were
off for the White Sulphur Springs, nine miles (of dusty road) from
Lewisburg, and arrived there at half-past two, just as the company
were dispersing about the walks, after dinner.
Nothing could be more striking than the contrast between our stage-
coach society and that which was thronging the green area into
which we were driven. We were heated, wearied, shabby, and all of
one dust colour, from head to foot, and, I doubt not, looking very
sheepish under the general stare. Every body else was gay and
spruce, and at full leisure to criticise us. Gentlemen in the piazza in
glossy coats and polished pumps; ladies in pink, blue, and white,
standing on green grass, shading their delicate faces and gay head-
dresses under parasols; never was there a more astonishing contrast
than all this presented with what we had been seeing of late. The
friends who were expecting us, however, were not ashamed of us,
and came bounding over the green to welcome us, and carry us
within reach of refreshment.
It was doubtful whether "a cabin" could be spared to us. We were
fortunate in being so favoured as to be put in possession of one in
the course of the afternoon. Several carriages full of visitors arrived
within a few days, each with its load of trunks, its tin pail dangling
behind (wherewith to water the horses in the wilderness) and its
crowd of expecting and anxious faces at the windows, and were
turned back to seek a resting-place elsewhere. That we were
accommodated at all, I believe to this day to be owing to some
secret self-denying ordinance on the part of our friends.
On one side of the green, are the large rooms, in which the
company at the Springs dine, play cards, and dance. Also, the bar-
room, and stage, post, and superintendent's offices. The cabins are
disposed round the other sides, and dropped down, in convenient
situations behind. These cabins consist of one, two, or more rooms,
each containing a bed, a table, a looking-glass, and two or three
chairs. All company is received in a room with a bed in it: there is no
help for it. The better cabins have a piazza in front; and all have a
back door opening upon the hill side; so that the attendants, and
their domestic business, are kept out of sight.
The sulphur fountain is in the middle of the southern end of the
green; and near it is the sulphur bathing-house. The fountain rises in
the midst of a small temple, which is surmounted by a statue of
Hygeia, presented to the establishment by a grateful visitor from
New Orleans.
The water, pure and transparent, and far more agreeable to the eye
than to the taste, forms a pool in its octagon-shaped cistern; and
hither the visitors lounge, three times a day, to drink their two or
three half-pint tumblers of nauseousness.
I heard many complaints, from new-comers, of the drowsiness
caused by drinking the water. Some lay down to sleep more than
once in the day; and others apologised for their dulness in society;
but this is only a temporary effect, if one may judge by the activity
visible on the green from morning till night. One of the greatest
amusements was to listen to the variety of theories afloat about the
properties and modes of application of the waters.
These springs had been visited only about fifteen years. No
philosophising on cases appears to have been instituted: no
recording, classifying, inferring, and stating. The patients come from
distances of a thousand miles in every direction, with a great variety
of complaints; they grow better or do not; they go away, and
nobody is the wiser for their experience. It would be difficult to trace
them, and to make a record of anything more than their experience
while on the spot. The application of these waters will probably
continue for a long time to be purely empirical. All that is really
known to the patients themselves is, that they are first sleepy, then
ravenous; that they must then leave the White Sulphur Spring, and
go to the Warm Springs, to be bathed; then to the Sweet Springs, to
be braced; and then home, to send all their ailing friends into
Virginia next year.
Upwards of two hundred visitors were accommodated when I was in
the White Sulphur Valley; and cabins were being built in all
directions. The valley, a deep basin among the mountains; presents
such beauties to the eye, as perhaps few watering-places in the
world can boast. There has been no time yet to lay them open, for
the benefit of the invalids; but there are plans for the formation of
walks and drives through the woods, and along the mountain sides.
At present, all is wild, beyond the precincts of the establishment;
and, for the pleasure of the healthy, for those who can mount, and
ramble, and scramble, it seems a pity that it should not remain so.
The mocking-bird makes the woods ring with its delicious song; and
no hand has bridged the rapid streams. If you want to cross them,
you must throw in your own stepping-stones. If you desire to be
alone, you have only to proceed from the gate of the establishment
to the first turn in the road, force your way into the thicket, and look
abroad from your retreat upon as sweet and untouched a scene of
mountain and valley as the eye of the red man loves to rest upon.
The gentlemen who are not invalids go out shooting in the
wilderness. A friend of mine returned from such an expedition, the
day after my arrival. He brought home a deer; had been overtaken
by a storm in the mountains, and had, with his companions, made a
house and a fire. Such amusements would diversify the occupations
of Bath and Cheltenham very agreeably.
The morning after our arrival, we were too weary to be roused by
the notice bell, which rings an hour before every meal; and we were
ready only just in time for the last bell. Breakfast is carried to the
cabins, if required; but every person who is able prefers breakfasting
in company. On rainy mornings, it is a curious sight to see the
company scudding across the green to the public-room, under
umbrellas, and in cloaks and india-rubber shoes. Very unlike the
slow pace, under a parasol, in a July sun.
There was less meat on the table at breakfast and tea than I was
accustomed to see. The bread and tea were good. For the other
eatables there is little to be said. It is a table spread in the
wilderness; and a provision of tender meat and juicy vegetables for
two or three hundred people is not to be had for the wishing. The
dietary is sure to be improved, from year to year; the most that is to
be expected at present is, that there should be enough for
everybody. The sum paid for board per week is eight dollars; and
other charges may make the expenses mount up to twelve. Pitchers
of water and of milk may be seen, at every meal, all down the
tables; little or no wine.
The establishment is under the management of the proprietor, who
has been offered 500,000 dollars for it, that it may be conducted by
a company of share-holders, who would introduce the necessary
improvements. When I was there, the proprietor was still holding off
from this bargain, the company not being willing to continue to him
the superintendence of the concern. I hope that arrangements,
satisfactory to all parties, may have been made by this time. The
average gross receipts of a season were reported to be 50,000
dollars. It was added that these might easily be doubled, if all were
done that might be.
Rheumatism and liver complaints seemed the most common
grievances. Two little girls, perhaps four and five years old, sat
opposite to me, who were sufferers from rheumatism. But the
visitors who came for pleasure seemed to outnumber considerably
those who came for health.
After breakfast, we sauntered about the green, and visited various
new acquaintances in their piazzas. Then we went home for our
bonnets, and rambled through the woods, till we were sent back by
the rain, and took shelter beside the fountain. The effect was
strange of seeing there a family of emigrants, parents and nine
children, who were walking from North Carolina into Illinois. There
must have been twins among these children, so many of them
looked just alike. The contrast between this group of way-worn
travellers, stopping out of curiosity to taste the waters, and the gay
company among whom they very properly held up their independent
heads, was striking to a stranger.
We dined at two; and afterwards found that a fire would be
comfortable, though it was the last day of June. As many friends as
our room would hold came home with us, and sat on the bed, table,
and the few chairs we could muster, while one made the wood fire,
and another bought ice-creams, which a country lad brought to the
door. These ice-creams seemed to be thin custard, with a sprinkling
of snow in it; but the boy declared that they were ice-creams when
he left home. When we had finished our dessert, washed and
returned the glasses, and joked and talked till the new-comers of
our party grew ashamed of their drowsiness, we crossed the green
to diversify the afternoon amusements of certain of our friends.
Some were romping with their dogs; some reading books brought by
themselves; (for there is no library yet;) some playing at chess or
backgammon; all deploring the rain.
After tea, we stormed the great scales, and our whole party were
individually weighed. It must be an interesting occupation to the
valetudinarians of the place to watch their own and each others'
weight, from day to day, or from week to week. For my part, I found
my weight just what it always has been, the few times in my life that
I have remembered to ascertain it. Such unenviable persons can
never make a pursuit of the scales, as others can whose gravity is
more discriminating.—From the scales, we adjourned to the ball-
room, where I met friends and acquaintances from Mobile and New
Orleans; saw new-comers from the Carolinas and Georgia; was
introduced to personages of note from Boston; recognized some
whom I had known at Philadelphia; and sat between two gentlemen
who had fought a duel. There was music, dancing, and
refreshments; laughing and flirting here; grave conversation there;—
all the common characteristics of a ball, with the added
circumstances that almost every State in the Union was here
represented; and that we were gathered together in the heart of the
mountains.
One more visit remained to be paid this day. We had promised to
look in upon some friends who were not at the ball, in order to try
the charms and virtues of egg-nogg, which had been lauded to us by
an eminent statesman, who has had opportunity, during his
diplomatic missions, to learn what there is best in this world. The
egg-nogg having been duly enjoyed, we at length went home, to
write letters as long as we could hold up our heads, after so
extremely busy a day:—a day which may be considered a fair
specimen of life at the White Sulphur Springs.
One of the personages whom I referred to as low company, at the
beginning of my story, declared himself in the stage-coach to be a
gambler, about to visit the Springs for professional purposes. He said
to another man, who looked fit company for him, that he played
higher at faro than any man in the country but one. These two men
slept while we were mounting to the Hawk's Nest. People who
pursue their profession by night, as such people do, must sleep in
the day, happen what may. They were rather self-important during
the journey; it was a comfort to see how poor a figure they cut at
the Springs. They seemed to sink into the deepest insignificance that
could be desired. Such persons are the pests of society in the south
and west; and they are apt to boast that their profession is highly
profitable in the eastern cities. I fear this is no empty vaunt.
We left the White Sulphur Springs, a party of six, in "an extra
exclusive return stage," and with two saddle horses. Nothing could
be more promising. The stage was perfectly new, having been used
only to bring General C—— and his lady from Philadelphia to the
Springs. We had a shrewd and agreeable Yankee driver, for the
whole way. The weather was as fine as July weather ought to be;
and as cool as is its wont near the tops of mountains: the very
weather for the saddle, or for having the stage open on all sides; or
for walking. The alternations were frequently tried. Roses and
mountain laurels adorned our road; the breezy woods cast their
shadows over us; and we remembered what waters were springing
beneath us;—that we were passing over the sources of the mighty
rivers of the West, which we had lately navigated with deep awe and
delight. The few dwellings we passed were almost all houses of
entertainment; but nothing could be more quiet than their air,
nestling as they did in the most enviable situations, and resembling
more the lodges in the avenues of the parks of English gentry than
the hotels of the high road.
We reached the Sweet Springs, twelve miles, I believe, from the
White Sulphur, at half-past two. We were as hungry as mountain
travellers should be, and dinner was over. However, we were soon
set down to hot stewed venison, beet, hominy, ham, and fruit pies;
and, thus reinforced, we issued forth to examine the place. The
spring at the bathhouse looked so tempting, that I resolved to bathe
at sun-down, which, in this valley, would be at five o'clock. The
establishment here is inferior to the one we had left. The green was
not paled in; the cabins were more shabby; the dining-room smaller.
We had it almost to ourselves. The season had not begun, few
having been yet sufficiently sulphured and bathed elsewhere to
come here to be braced. The water is a little warm; it has a slight
briskness; and bubbles up prettily in its well under the piazza. The
luxury is to have nothing to do with its disagreeable taste, but to
bathe in it, as it gushes, tepid, from its spout. It would be worth
while, if there were nothing but trouble in crossing the mountains to
get to it. The Sweet Springs lie in one of the highest valleys of the
Alleghanies, and one of the fairest. Five times that afternoon did I
climb the steep breezy slope behind our cabin, bringing first one of
our party, then another, to look abroad; and then returning to enjoy
the sun-set alone. The crowds of blue peaks, the bright clearings,
the clumps of forest trees, lilac in the sunset with the shepherds
lying in their shadow, and the sheep grazing on the sunny slopes,
the cluster of cabins below, with their thin smokes rising straight into
the golden air,—the whole looked as if the near heavens had opened
to let down a gush of their inner light upon this high region. Never
shall I forget those tufty purple hills. Cold twilight came on; and we
sat round a blazing wood fire, telling ghost and murder stories till we
could have declared it was a Christmas night.
At supper, I observed a hale, brisk, intellectual-looking gentleman
who satisfied himself with a basin of liquid; as he did at breakfast
the next morning; and as he may be seen to do at every meal he
takes. He told us his story. Twenty years before, he nearly closed his
œsophagus by taking too powerful an emetic. For twenty years, he
has had no illness; he rises at dawn all the year round, and has
never been known to be low-spirited for two minutes. We all began
to think of living upon liquids; but I have not heard of any of the
party having proceeded beyond the suggestion.
We rose at five, the next morning, having thirty mountain miles to
go during the day, with the same horses. It must not be supposed
that this mountain travelling is scrambling among craggy peaks,
piercing through dark defiles, and so forth. The roads wind so gently
among the slopes, that a sleeping or blind traveller would not
discover that the carriage was not, for the greater part of the time,
proceeding on level ground. Woody slopes at hand, and a crowd of
blue summits afar, are the most characteristic features of the
scenery. A white speck of a house, on its tiny green clearing, comes
into sight, high up among the hills, from a turn in the road, and the
traveller says to himself, "What a perch to live on!" In two hours, he
stops at that very house to dine, not being aware how he has got up
to it, and looking round with wonder on the snug comforts of the
homestead.
Our thirty miles of this day were delicious. Having breakfasted, we
bade adieu, at half-past six, to the Sweet Springs, steaming in the
bitter cold morning air, and followed a gentleman of our party who
had proceeded on foot to the top of the first ridge. There we found
him, sitting under a tree, having succeeded in warming himself by
the walk. Up the second ridge, the whole party walked, I having
started off, ahead of the rest. It was warm, and I stopped, here and
there, to rest and gather wild flowers. The rhododendrons and
kalmias grew in profusion; and there were plenty of roses, the fine
orange columbine of the hills, vetches, and a few splendid scarlet
lilies. The peeps down into abysses of foliage were glorious; and, yet
more, the cloudlike expanse of mountain tops, growing bluer and
fainter till they faded quite away. A steep road on an opposite
mountain was the only sign of humanity being near. On the summit,
however, there was a small farm. In it lived an elderly woman, who
had never been further from the spot than eight miles. If she was
born to travel no further than eight miles, no better dwelling place
could have been assigned her; for hence she sees more at a glance,
any sunset, than some, with all means of locomotion, have ever
beheld.
It was a strange feeling, the beginning to descend. It was strange to
cross, soon after, the path of the tornado. I had seen something of
its ravages before, on the banks of the Cumberland river: the
stoutest forest-trees wrenched and twisted, like red-hot iron in the
vice of the blacksmith; and snapped off, all at the same height; so
that the forest looked like a gigantic scorched stubble-field. Here, a
similar desolation was seen in immediate contrast with the rich
fertility of the little valley beneath. The hurricane had seared a path
for itself up the mountain side, passing over the lowly roofs in the
depths. We arrived to dinner at a house on Barber Creek, where we
entreated to be fed without delay, on anything whatsoever that was
eatable; as time was precious, this day. Yet were we kept waiting
two hours and a half. I found much to do by the creek side watching
the minnows making their way up against the current; watching two
girls who had set up their washing establishment in pretty style
under a tree beside the water; their wood fire, black cauldron, and
stand of tubs; while the bushes stood round about to be used as
drying horses. I also actually saw a hog voluntarily walk three times
through the clear water; and the delay of the dinner afforded time
for speculation whether the race was not improving. When the
dinner was on the table, no one of us could tell what it consisted of.
The dish from which I ate was, according to some, mutton; to
others, pork: my own idea is that it was dog. Whatever it was, it was
at last done with, and paid for, and I was in my saddle, listening to
the creek as it rattled under the grey rocks. Having crossed one
mountain top on foot, in the morning, I was about to pass another
on my horse this afternoon. There is no describing what it is to be
pacing upwards, on the extreme edge of the steep road, with one's
feet hanging over the green abyss; the shadowy mountains
retreating, advancing, interlacing, opening, to disclose a low far-off
bit of meadow, with a diminutive dwelling, quiet as a lonely star.
What blessed work road-making must be in such places! It was with
no little pleasure that, after fourteen miles from Barber Creek, I saw
a fine house on an eminence; and then the town of Fincastle, spread
out below us, on some rising grounds.
The scenes of the day left me little disposed for sociability in the
evening. We were kept waiting long for supper, by the arrival of a
party of New Yorkers; to avoid an introduction to whom, some of us
pretended to read, and some to be asleep, while others did our duty,
talk. The night closed in worthily. From the balcony of my chamber, I
saw how modestly the young moon eyed with me the region which
will be spread before her for ever, but which I was looking back
upon for the last time.
Here I must break off; and, instead of adding another description of
the Natural Bridge to the hundred which exist, bring into contrast
with life at the Virginia Springs, life in a New England farm-house.

Nothing can he quieter or more refreshing, after a winter's visiting at

Boston or New York, than such an abode in a country village as I
made trial of last May. The weeks slipped away only too fast. Dr. and
Mrs. F., their little boy, six years old, and myself, were fortunate
enough to prevail with a farmer's widow at Stockbridge,
Massachusetts, to take us into her house. The house was
conspicuous from almost every part of the sweet valley into which it
looked; the valley of the Housatonic. It was at the top of a steep hill;
a sort of air palace. From our parlour windows we could see all that
went on in the village; and I often found it difficult to take off my
attention from this kind of spying. It was tempting to trace the
horseman's progress along the road, which wound among the
meadows, and over the bridge. It was tempting to watch the
neighbours going in and out, and the children playing in the courts,
or under the tall elms; all the people looking as small and busy as
ants upon a hillock. On week-days there was the ox-team in the
field; and on Sundays the gathering at the church-door. The larger of
the two churches stood in the middle of a green, with stalls behind it
for the horses and vehicles which brought the churchgoers from a
distance. It was a pretty sight to see them converging from every
point in the valley, so that the scene was all alive; and then
disappear for the space of an hour and a half, as if an earthquake
had swallowed up all life; and then pour out from the church door,
and, after grouping on the green for a few minutes, betake
themselves homewards. Monument Mountain reared itself opposite
to us, with its thick woods, and here and there a grey crag
protruding. Other mountains closed in the valley, one of which
treated us for some nights with the spectacle of a spreading fire in
its woods. From the bases of these hills, up to our very door-step,
there was one bright carpet of green. Everything, houses, trees,
churches, were planted down into this green, so that there was no
interruption but the one road, and the blue mazy Housatonic. The
softness of the scene, early in a May morning, or when the sun was
withdrawing, could not be surpassed by anything seen under a
Greek or Italian sky. Sometimes I could scarcely believe it real: it
looked air-painted, cloud-moulded.
It was as a favour that the widow Jones[8] took us in. She does not
let lodgings. She opened her house to us, and made us a part of her
family. Two of her daughters were at home, and a married son lived
at hand. We had a parlour, with three windows, commanding
different views of the valley: two good-sized chambers, conveniently
furnished, and a large closet between; our board with the family,
and every convenience that could be provided: and all for two
dollars per week each, and half price for the child. She was advised
to ask more, but she refused, as she did not wish to be "grasping."
It was a merry afternoon when we followed the wagon up the hill to
our new abode, and unpacked, and settled ourselves for our long-
expected month of May. Never was unpacking a pleasanter task.
The blossomy cherry-tree beside my chamber window was the first
object I saw in the morning when I threw up the sash; and beneath
it was a broad fallow, over which the blue jay flitted. By this window
there was an easy chair and a light table, a most luxurious
arrangement for reading. We breakfasted at half-past seven on
excellent bread, potatoes, hung beef, eggs, and strong tea. We
admitted no visitors during the forenoon, as our theory was that we
were very busy people. Writing and reading did occupy much of our
time, but it was surprising how much was left for the exercise of our
tongues. Then there were visits to be made to the post-office, and
the crockery store, and the cobbler; and Charley found occasion to
burst in, a dozen times a-day, with a bunch of violets, or news of the
horse or cow, or of the ride he had had, or of the oxen in the field.
We all dined together at two. One of the daughters absented herself
at breakfast, that she might arrange our rooms; but both were
present at dinner, dressed, and ready for their afternoon's
occupation of working and reading. One was fond of flowers, and
had learned a great deal about them. She was skilful in drying them,
and could direct us to the places in the woods and meadows where
they grew. Some members of the family, more literary than the rest,
were gone westward; but there was a taste for books among them
all. I often saw a volume on the table of the widow's parlour, with
her spectacles in it. She told me, one day, of her satisfaction in her
children, that they were given to good pursuits, and all received
church members. All young people in these villages are more or less
instructed. Schooling is considered a necessary of life. I happened to
be looking over an old almanack one day, when I found, among the
directions relating to the preparations for winter on a farm, the
following: "Secure your cellars from frost. Fasten loose clap-boards
and shingles. Secure a good school-master." It seemed doubtful, at
the first glance, whether some new farming utensil had not been
thus whimsically named; as the brass plate which hooks upon the
fender, or upper bar of the grate, is called "the footman;" but the
context clearly showed that a man with learning in his head was the
article required to be provided before the winter. The only respect,
as far as I know, in which we made our kind hostess uneasy, was in
our neglect of Charley's book-studies. Charley's little head was full of
knowledge of other kinds; but the widow's children had all known
more of the produce of the press at his age than he; and she had a
few anxious thoughts about him.
In the afternoon we rambled abroad, if the weather was fine; if
rainy, we lighted our wood fire, and pursued our employments of the
morning, not uncheered by a parting gleam from the west; a bar of
bright yellow sky above the hill tops, or a gush of golden light
burnishing the dewy valley at the last. Our walks were along the hill
road to the lake, on the way to Lenox, or through the farmyard and
wood to a tumbling brook in a small ravine. We tried all manner of
experiments with moss, stones, and twigs, among its sunny and
shadowy reaches, and tiny falls. We hunted up marsh flowers, wood
anemones, and violets, and unfolded the delicate ferns, still closely
buttoned up, and waiting for the full power of the summer sun. It
was some trouble to me, in America, that I could not get opportunity
to walk so much as I think necessary to health. It is not the custom
there: partly owing to the climate, the extreme heat of summer, and
cold of winter; and partly to the absence of convenient and pretty
walks in and about the cities; a want which, I trust, will be supplied
in time. In Stockbridge much pedestrian exercise may be and is
accomplished; and I took the opportunity of indulging in it, much to
the surprise of some persons, who were not aware how English
ladies can walk. One very warm afternoon, we were going on a visit
to Lenox, five miles off. My friends went in a wagon; I preferred
walking. The widow's son watched me along the road, and then
remarked, "You will see no more of her till you get to Lenox. I would
not walk off at that rate, if they gave me Lenox when I got there."
In the evenings, we made a descent upon the village, or the village
came up to us. In the latter case, our hostess was always ready with
a simple and graceful welcome, and her best endeavours to provide
seats for our many friends. If we staid below till after nine, the
family had gone to rest on our return. We had only to lift the latch,
light our candles, and make our way to the milk-pans, if we were
thirsty. For twenty-five years, the widow has lived on the top of her
hill, with only a latch to her door. She sleeps undefended, for she
has no enemies; and in her village there are no thieves.
One night, when we were visiting some friends in the valley, it was
brought home to us what it is to live in a place where there are no
hackney coaches, or other travelling shelter. When we should have
been going home, it was a tremendous spring-storm; wind, thunder
and lightning, and rain in floods. We waited long; but it seemed to
have no intention of abating. When at length we did set out, we
were a remarkable looking troop; a gentlemanly young lawyer in a
pea jacket; the other gentlemen in the roughest coats that could be
found; the ladies leaving bonnets and caps behind, with
handkerchiefs over their heads, India-rubbers on their feet, their
dresses tucked up, and cloaks swathed round them. Our party were
speeded up the hill by the fear that Charley would be wakened and
alarmed by the storm; but it was a breathless sort of novelty to be
working our way through one continued pond to the foot of the hill,
and then up the slippery ascent, unbonneted, with the strangling
gust in our faces, and no possibility of our finding our way in the
pitchy darkness but by the flashes of blue lightning. Well clad as we
were, we felt, I believe, something like being paupers, or gentry of
the highway, or some such houseless personages exposed to the
pelting of the pitiless storm. Charley was found to be sound asleep,
and we ourselves no worse off than being steeped over the ankles.
The time came too soon when I must leave the beloved village,
when I must see no longer the morning baking and the evening
milking; and the soap cauldron boiling in the open air behind the
house, with Charley mounted on a log, peeping into it; and the
reading and working, and tying up of flowers in the afternoon. The
time was come when the motherly and sisterly kiss were ready for
me, and my country life in New England was at an end. It is well for
us that our best pleasures have an immortality like our own; that the
unseen life is a glorification of the seen. But for this, no one with a
human heart would travel abroad, and attach himself to scenes and
persons which he cannot but love, but which he must leave.
It was not always that the villagers of New England could place
themselves on hill tops, and leave their doors unfastened. There is a
striking contrast between their present security and the fears of their
forefathers, in the days when the nursling went to church, because it
was unsafe at home, in the absence of its father. Father, mother, and
children, all went on one horse to meet the total population within
the walls of the church; the one parent armed, the other prying
about for traces of the fearful red man. Those were the days when
the English regicides had fled to the colonies, and were there
secreted. Those were the days when anything that was to be made
known to all was announced in church, because everybody was sure
to be there; and a fast-day was ordained if anything very remarkable
was to be done, or conveyed. Sometimes formal announcements
were made; sometimes intimations were so interwoven with the
texture of the discourse, as that unfriendly ears, if such should be
present, should not apprehend the meaning. When any emissary of
Charles the Second was prowling in search of a concealed regicide,
the pastor preached from some such text as, "Hide the outcasts.
Bewray not him that wandereth;"[9] and the flock understood that
they were to be on their guard against spies. Charles the Second
could never get hold of one of his enemies who had taken refuge in
these colonies.
On looking abroad over the valley of the Connecticut, from the top
of Mount Holyoke, I saw the village of Hadley, seated in the
meadows, and extending across a promontory, formed by the
winding of the river. This promontory afforded a secure grazing
ground for the cattle by day, which were driven by night into the
area of the village, where the church stood. Goffe, the regicide, was
concealed for many years in the parsonage at Hadley; all the people
in the village, except two or three, being, in this instance, unaware
of an outcast being among them. One Sunday, the Indians attacked
the village while the people were all in church. The women and
children were left in the church, while their husbands, fathers, and
brothers went out to do battle with the cruel foe. It went hard with
the whites; the Indians were fast bearing them down, when an
unknown figure appeared in their ranks, with flowing robes,
streaming white hair, and a glittering sword. The cry was raised that
the angel Gabriel had been sent in answer to the prayers of the
women in the church. Every spirit was cheered, every arm was
nerved, and the Indians were beaten off, with great slaughter. Upon
this, Gabriel vanished; but tradition long preserved the memory of
his miraculous appearance. The very few who recognized in him
Goffe, with his undressed hair, and in his morning gown, kept the
secret faithfully. How blessed a change has come over rural life in
Massachusetts since those days! Never may its peace and security
be invaded by those social abuses which are more hateful than
foreign spies; more cruel and treacherous than the injured and
exasperated red man of the wilderness!

The contrast is also striking between the country life of New England
and that of the west. I staid for some weeks in the house of a
wealthy land-owner in Kentucky. Our days were passed in great
luxury; and some of hottest of them very idly. The house was in the
midst of grounds, gay with verdure and flowers, in the opening
month of June; and our favourite seats were the steps of the hall,
and chairs under the trees. From thence we could watch the play of
the children on the grass-plat, and some of the drolleries of the little
negroes. The red bird and the blue bird flew close by; and the black
and white woodpecker with crimson head, tapped at all the tree-
trunks, as if we were no interruption. We relished the table fare,
after that with which we had been obliged to content ourselves on
board the steam-boats. The tender meat, fresh vegetables, good
claret and champagne, with the daily piles of strawberries and
towers of ice-cream, were welcome luxuries. There were thirty-three
horses in the stables, and we roved about the neighbouring country
accordingly. There was more literature at hand than time to profit by
it. Books could be had at home; but not the woods of Kentucky;—
clear, sunny woods, with maple and sycamore springing up to a
height which makes man feel dwarfish. The glades, with their turf so
clean, every fallen leaf having been absorbed, reminded me of
Ivanhoe, I almost looked for Gurth in my rambles. All this was, not
many years ago, one vast canebrake, with a multitude of buffalo and
deer: the pea-vine spreading everywhere, and the fertility far greater
than even now.
One morning I took a lesson in rifle-shooting; the gentlemen having
brought out their weapons for a few hours' sport among the
squirrels. A rifle does not bounce like a musket, and affords,
therefore, an easy beginning. I took aim at twenty-five paces, and
hitting within an inch, thought it best to leave off with credit. A child
of eighteen months stood in the middle of the gravel-walk, very
composedly, while the rifles were popping off; and his elder brothers
were busy examining the shots. Children seem born to their future
pursuits, in new countries. Negro children seem all born riders and
drivers. It was an amusement to see little children that in England
could not hold themselves on a large horse, playing pranks with a
whole equipage that they were leading to water.
In the afternoon of this day we took a long drive in search of
buffalo; the only herd of those hideous animals now to be seen in
Kentucky. None of the family liked to be left behind, so we filled the
barouche and the phaeton, and Master H., eight years old, in his
garden costume, mounted the mare, whose foal could not be
induced to remain at home, and frolicked beside us all the way. We
rattled on through lanes, over open ground above a pond, beneath
locust groves, and beechen shades, seeing herds of mules, and the
finest of cattle within the verge of the woods. The mules are raised
for exportation to the fields of Louisiana. Then we reached the hill-
side where eight buffalo were grazing, four of the pure and four of a
mixed breed. The creatures stood looking at us as if they had been
turned into stone at the sight of us. Their sidelong gaze, as they
stood motionless beside a stump, or beneath a tree, was horrid. I
never saw an eye and attitude of which I should be so much afraid.
As they appeared to have no intention of moving a hair of their tails
or huge necks while we halted, a little slave, named Oliver, was sent
up the hill to put them in motion; there being no danger whatever in
the operation. Oliver disappeared, and no result of his exertions was
visible. When the buffalo and we had mutually stared for another
five minutes, Oliver's master called to him to know what he was
about. He replied that the buffalo looked too hard at him. At last,
however, he went near enough to put them in motion; and then they
moved all at once, each seeming more clumsy than the others in its
headlong run. I am glad to have seen buffalo, but there is nothing to
be said for their beauty or grace.
In the evening we repaired to the cool grass-plat, to amuse
ourselves with the pretty sport of trying which should find out the
first star. It was then ascertained that two gentlemen present were
well qualified to entertain us with stories of horrible western
murders,—more fearful than any other murders. So we sat till late at
night, amidst summer lightning and the glancing of fire-flies,
listening to the most harrowing and chilling set of tales of human
misdeeds and their retributions, that it ever was my fortune to listen
to. The Christmas firesides of England yield no impressions of horror
like the plain facts of a life in the wilderness, told under the trees, in
a sultry night, while the pale lightning is exploding on the horizon.
We had tidings of a camp-meeting to be held at some distance, the
next day. I had never seen a camp-meeting; but the notice was too
short, and the distance too great, and I missed the chance.
One of the slaves of a neighbouring gentleman came and asked his
master what he would give him for two bee-holes. "You are a pretty
fellow," said his master, "to ask me to pay for my own trees." The
negro urged that his master would never have found out the bee-
holes for himself; which was very true. He was referred to his
mistress; and it was finally arranged that three of us English
strangers should see the felling of a bee-tree; a spectacle we had all
heard of, but not seen. A large party dined at this gentleman's
house; and, presently after dinner, all set out in carriages, or on
horseback, for the spot in the woods where the bee-tree stood. It
was a shabby black walnut, which seemed scarcely fit company for
the noble array of trees around it. It was of so respectable a
circumference near the ground, however, and the negroes were
making such slow progress into its interior, that it was plain we
should have time for a drive in the woods before the catastrophe; so
my host mounted the box of our barouche, and we wound hither
and thither under the trees, over the rich grass; and, seldom having
to stoop to avoid the branches, catching bright glimpses of a
hundred glades. It was a full hour before the tree fell. We arrived
just when it was chopped into the middle, and some minutes before
the event. It is a pretty sight to see the top branches of the falling
glory quiver, its canopy shake, and its huge bulk come crashing
down, while everybody runs away at the shout which tells that it is
coming. This tree fell on the wrong side, and destroyed several yards
of fence, snapping the stakes, and setting them flying in all
directions.
Straw and sulphur were burned in the hollow of the trunk. A few
little startled bees flew out, and wreaked their vengeance on our
host and myself; but most of them perished very quietly. I was
asked whether I should like to look into the cleft; and when I was
stepping over the bristling branches for the purpose, a bough was
put into my hand, with directions to wave it before me. I returned,
stung, but having seen what I wanted; and then I was told that if I
had not waved a bough, I should have escaped the bees. Mine was
the common fate of persons who follow unasked advice. Our host
capered among the trees, with a bee or two under his cravat and
hair. It was impossible to help laughing. A stout gentleman of the
party did the same, under the mere idea of bees being upon him;
and, while tossing his head and arms about, he ran up, with a great
shock, against his own horse; on which sat a little negro, grinning
from ear to ear. The result of the whole was,—half a tumbler glass
full of blackened honey, and the high gratification of the spectators,
native and foreign, unharmed and stung.
Such is a fair specimen of our life in the West. Contrasts rise up
before my mind's eye, as the scenes of my journeying present
themselves; contrasts in the face of the country, as striking as in the
modes of living.

When I was at Salem, in Massachusetts, the friends whose

hospitality I was enjoying proposed an excursion to Cape Ann, (the
northern point of Massachusetts' bay,) and round the peninsula
which constitutes the township of Gloucester. This excursion
impressed me strongly, from the peculiar character of the scenery:
but I know not whether it is an impression which can be conveyed
by description. Whether it be or not, I would recommend all
strangers to go and visit this peninsula; and, if convenient, in fine
autumn weather, when the atmosphere lends its best aid to the
characteristic charms of the landscape.
It was the 19th of October, a foggy morning, when we mounted the
carry-all,—a carriage which holds four,—and drove merrily out of
Salem, upon a carpet of fallen leaves. I love streets that have trees
in them; Summer Street in Boston; State Street in Albany; and
Chesnut Street in Salem. We passed through Beverley, where, as in
most of the small New England towns, the population has a
character of its own. At Marblehead, on the bay, near Salem, the
people are noisy, restless, high-spirited, and democratic. At Beverley,
in the near neighbourhood, they are quiet, economical, sober, and
whig. Such, at least, is the theory: and one fact in this connexion is,
that the largest sums in the Boston savings' banks are from
Beverley. We passed over a long bridge,—a respectable toll-bridge.
The Americans are not fond of tolls of above a certain age,—for fear
of monopoly. There is a small bridge, called Spite Bridge, because it
spites the Beverley toll, which is much used in preference. Seven
miles further is Manchester;—how unlike the English Manchester! A
mere with pond-lilies! woods with the glorious magnolia flourishing
in the midst! This is the only place in New England where the
magnolia grows. In summer, parties are formed to visit the woods;
and children make much money as guides and gatherers. Cabinet-
making is the great business of the place. We saw logs of mahogany
lying outside the houses; and much furniture in pieces standing up
against the walls, ready to be packed for New Orleans. The furniture
of the southern cities is almost entirely derived from this
neighbourhood. One manufacturer, who makes the furniture here,
and sells it from his warehouse at New Orleans, has an income of
150,000 dollars. The inhabitants of Manchester are very prosperous.
The houses were all good, except, here and there, the abode of a
drunkard, known by its unpainted walls, loose shingles, broken
shutters, and decayed door-step, in striking contrast with the neat
white or yellow painted houses of the neighbours, with their bright
windows, and spruce Venetian blinds.
Seven miles further, stands Gloucester; the road to it winding among
wooded rocks; sometimes close down to the shore; and sometimes
overhanging the rippling waters of Massachusetts Bay. The gay