t,l « mmm S9^ ^ (farttfU 51tttuer0ity ffiihrarg Utljara. Nstn ^nrk BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library F 247R2 S92 Virginia iliustrated : comamina a visi 3 1924 028 787 525^ olin 0«" Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028787525 YIEGINIA ILLUSTRATED : CONTAINING A VISIT TO THE YIEaillAN CAIAAN, AND THE ADVENTURES OF PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BY PORTE CRAYON. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, PEARL STREET, FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1857. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-seven, by HARPER & BROTHERS, in the Clerk's Oifice of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. CONTENTS. VISIT TO THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. CHAPTEB FAOB I. THE JOURNEY TO CANAAN 13 n. LIFE IN CANAAN 35 ADVENTURES OF PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. I. POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS 55 II. JOURNEY TO WEYER'S CAVE 67 in. WEYER'S CAVE 80 IV. THE LIONS OP STAUNTON 104 V. THE CHIMNEYS AWD THE WARM SPRINGS 120 VL A VIRGINIA SNOW-STORM 137 VIL A VIRGINIA HOSTELRY 149 VIlfSsWHITE SULPHUR AND ROCKBRIDGE ALUM SPRINGS 161 IX. THE NATURAL BRIDGE. 179 X. THE GREAT VALLEY 197 XL ON THE ROAD 223 XIL THE UNIVERSITY AND MONTICELLO 240 XIIL THE LOAFER AND THE SQUIRE 251 XrV. THE SXILPHUR SPRINGS 265 XV. THE BEAR AND THE BASKET-MAKER 277 XVI. FINALE :■ 291 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. P^OB 1. EN GI^NDE TEKUE 14 2. THE COMMISSAKY DEPARTMENT 16 3. A HUMBUG 18 4. THOKNHILL' S CABIN 20 5. CONWAY 28 6. THE MARCH 24 T. THE ALAEM 26 8. THROUGH THE WOODS 28 9. PASSING THE LAURELS 29 10. THE MUMMY 32 11. ALL IN MY EYE 33 12. FALLS OF THE BLACK FORK OP CHEAT 87 13. FATE OF THE FANCY RODS 38 14. MR. JONES' S LEGACY 41 15. MK. X. HASTENS TO GET A SHOT 42 16. THE FIRST TROUT OF MR. X 43 IT. FALLS OF THE BLACKWATER 44 IS. CAMP ON THE BLACKWATEE 45 19. WRATH OF ME. DINDON 47 20. CALIFORNIANS TRUMPED 50 2L THE LISTENERS 57 22. BULLET-MAKING 63 23. LITTLE MICE 64 24 OLD TOM AND YOUNG TOM 65 25. THE VIRGINIA HOUSEKEEPER 70 26. THE PORTSMOUTH 73 2T. BUENEE'S 76 28. THE CANOPY 76 29. THE BEAR 78 30. LEONARD MOLER 82 31. ENTPoANCE TO WEYEE'S CAVE 82 32. THE HALL OF STATUARY 84 33. THE CATARACT 85 34. SOLOMON'S TEMPLE 87 35. THE CATHEDRAL 88 36. LB FANTOME NOIR 90 37. JACOB'S LADDER 91 38. THE GNOME KING'S PALACE 92 39. THE ENCHANTED MOOES 94 4a THE OYSTER-SHELL 95 41. THE BRIDAL CHAMBER 56 42. THE MAGIC TOWER 100 43. EN EOUTE 104 44 ASYLUM FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB 108 45. RECEPTION IN STAUNTON 109 46. THE LITERARY VALET 110 47. HOSPITAL FOE THE INSANE 112 48. THE CONTROVERSY 114 49. A REMINISCENCE OP EARLY DAYS 116 50. REMINISCENCE NUMBER TWO 117 51. THE CHIMNEYS 120 52. THE GEEAT TOWER 121 y[[[ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAOB 53. PORTE CEAYON SKETCHING ^'^'^ ■tnK 54. PHEASANT SHOOTING , 65. THE WAGONEK •'^^ 56. THE SIGN-POST ^^^ 5T. THE BATH ALUM SPRINGS ^'^ 58. DELIGHTFUL! ISN'T I.T ? ^^' 69. THE DROVE ^^^ 60. THE WARM SPRINGS 1** 61. THE HOT SPRINGS ^^^ 62. DIFFICULTIES 1*" 63. TH E SNOW-STORM » 1*^ 64. THE HERO OF MORRIS'S HILL ^^ 65. TIM LONGBOW W^ 66. THE TRIUMPH 155 6T. ARION 166 68. HOUYHNHNM REPAST 15S 69. THE STUDENT 159 70. WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS 161 Tl. FANS OF PHEASANTS' TAILS..... 162 72. KINDLING THE FIRE 163 T3. THE BUTTER FLIES 166 T4. CROSSING THE LOG 168 T6. THE FORDING ITO T6. THE HUNTERS ITS 7T. ROCKBRIDGE ALUM 175 78. ALUM CLIFF 176 79. CAKES AND BEER 179 80. THE HEROINE 181 81. THE NATURAL BRIDGE 184 82. VIEW OF THE BRIDGE, UPPER SIDE 185 83. ADVENTURE TWENTY YEARS SINCE 190 84. YOUTH'S FORWARD SLIP , 191 85. NATURAL BRIDGE, DISTANT VIEW 195 86. VIEW FROM THE CLIFF 196 87. THE CROWN OF OTTER 197 88. THE EMIGRANT'S HALT 200 89. RUNNING A RISK 200 90. SHUTTING UP SHOP. 205 9L IN A STRANGE CORN-FIELD , 206 92. THE MOUNTAIN BROOK 208 95. THE IMPROMPTU 211 94. SOUTH PEAK OF OTTER, FROM THE HOTEL 215 95. ASCENT OF THE PEAK 216 96. THE GREAT VALLEY 219 97. THE ENCAMPMENT 220 98. SOUTH PEAK, FROMTHE SPRING 221 99. THE VICTIM 222 100. THE PEAK OF OTTER, DISTANT VIEW 223 101. RAIL-ROAD ACCIDENT 224 102. UNCLE PETER 220 103. NOT A MATCH 227 10-1. LYNCHBURG TEAM 229 105. BANKS OP THE JAMES RWER 231 100. NIGHT ON THE RIVER 235 107. THE COOK 236 108. A CONSERVATIVE PHILO SOPHER 2SS 109. THE STUDENT 24, 110. UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA 242 lU. TO SHAVE OK DYE 2U 112. SHAVING 245 STUCK FAST IN THE MUD 24S 114. RATHER SEEDY. 251 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. ix PAGB 115. THE SQUIRE AND HIS D.'iUGHTERS 264 116. WINDING YARN 255 IIT. AUNT WINNIE , 250 118. THE MUSCOVY DRAKE 258 119. PIG versus PRIG 260 120. THE BATTERING RAM 263 121. THE FAUQUIER SPRINGS 206 122. PRIVATE ENTERTAINMENT 26T 123. THE WOOD-PILE •. 26T 124. BERKELEY SPRINGS 270 125. THE VALETUDINARIAN 2T0 126. JOHN DAVIS 2T3 12T. SPA SPRING CAVERN ' 2T0 128. HENRY HERBEL 2T9 129. THE BEAR'S DEN 282 130. THE STRUGGLE 283 131. THE DEATH-BLOW 28S 132. ENTERING THE DEN 280 133. THE NURSERY 288 134 DEVERSION 289 135. THE CUBS 290 136. UNPACKING 296 13T. THE SADDLER'S SHOP 268 138. SUB ROSA 300 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. THE YIEGINIAI CANAAI. CHAPTER I. THE JOURNEY TO CANAAN. "Perlege Meeonio cantatas cannine ranas Et frontem nugis solvere disce meis." — Maetial. In Randolph county, Virginia, there is a tract of country con- taining from seven to nine hundred square miles, entirely unin- habited, and so inaccessible that it has rarely been penetrated even by the most adventiirous. The settlers on its borders speak of it with dread, as an ill-omened region, filled with bears, panthers, im- passable laurel-brakes, ■and dangerous precipices. Stories are told of hunters having ventured too far, becoming entangled, and per- ishing in its intricate labyrinths. The desire of daring the un- known dangers of this mysterious region stimulated a party of gentlemen, who were at Towers' Mountain House on a trouting excursion, to undertake its exploration in June, 1851. They did actually penetrate the country as far as the Falls of the Blackwa- ter, and returned with marvelous accounts of the savage grandeur of its scenery, and the quantities of game and fish to be found there. One of the party wrote an entertaining narrative of their adventures and sufferings, filling a stout volume — which every body ought to read. During the winter of 1852, several of the same party, with other friends, planned a second trip, to be undertaken on the first of ■June following. At that date, so fully was the public mind oc- cupied with filibustering and president-making, that the notes of preparation for this important expedition were scarcely heard be- yond the corporate limits of the little town of M , in the Val- 14 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. ley of Virginia. Even in this contracted circle the excitement was principally confined to the planners themselves, while the pub- lic looked on with an apathy and unconcern altogether unaccount- able. Indeed, some narrow-minded persons went so far as to say that it was nothing but a scheme of idleness, and advised the young gentlemen to stick to their professions, and let the bears alone. But, as may be supposed, all such met the usual fate of gratui- tous counselors who advise people against their inclinations. In the daily meetings which were held for five months previous to the date fixed for their departure, our friends discussed freely and at great length every thing that appertained, or that could in any way appertain, to the subject in view, from the elevation of the mountains and the course of rivers, down to the quality of a percussion-cap and the bend of a fish-hook. They became stu- dents of maps and geological reports ; read Izaac Walton's "Com- plete Angler" and "Le Guide et Hygiene des Chasseurs ;" con- sulted Count Rumford and Doc- tor Kitchener, and experiment- ed largely in the different kinds of alirtients most proper for the sustenance of the human sys- tem. Mr. Penn, the author, cop- ied at length a recipe for mat ing cat-fish soup, assuring his friends that, when surfeited with venison and trout, this dish would afford them a delightful change. Mr. Porte Crayon, the artist, also furnished frequent designs for hunting-coats, caps, knapsacks, and leggins, model- ed, for the most part, from those of the French army in Algiers, 'i For," said he, "the French are the most scientific people in the world; and as they have paid more attention to the equipment of their army than any other, every thing they adopt is presumed to be perfect of its kind." EN GRANDE TENUE. DKAMATIS PERSONiE. 15 The result of all this studying and talking was, that every one differed from his friend, and equipped himself after his own fash- ion. The commissary department suddenly concluded that biscuit and bacon were the most substantial, portable, and palatable arti- cles of food known to the dwellers south of the Potomac, and ac- cordingly made arrangements to have ample supplies of both ready for the occasion. THE COMMISSABY DEPARTMENT. With the opening spring the buds began to swell and the blue- birds to warble, and the zeal of our adventurers kept pace with the season, so that by the first of April all were ready, fully equipped, " straining like greyhounds in the slip." The intolerable vacuum between this and the starting-day might be graphically illustrated by leaving half a dozen blank pages ; but as such a procedure might be misunderstood, or characterized as clap-trap, it may be preferable to fill up the blank by introducing the dramatis per- sonce who are to figure in the following narrative. Mr. Penn, an author of some distinction, has already been men- tioned. He is gaunt and tall, with distinguished air and manners, flowing and graceful gestures, prominent and expressive eye, indi- cating, according to phrenology, a great command of language. In this case, however, the science was at fault, for when Penn got fairly started in discourse he had no command over his language 16 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. at all. It poured forth in an irresistible torrent, carrying away tlie speaker himself, and overwhelming or putting to flight his au- dience. Mr. DiNDON, a fine, athletic sportsman, not a dandiacal popper at quails and hares, but a real Nimrod, a slayer of wild turkeys and deer, to whom the excitement of the chase was as the breath of his nostrils, and who sometimes forgot even that in his keen ap- preciation of the poetry of forest life. He was never known ei- ther to be wearied in a hunt or silenced in a debate. Mr. Jones was somewhat inclined to be stout, not to say fat. Mr. J. was equally fond of rural sports and personal comforts. Ambitious of being considered a thoroughgoing sportsman, he kept the best dog and the most beautiful gun in the district. He fre- quently appeared covered with his hunting accoutrements, follow- ed by his dog, and generally went out alone. Prying persons re- marked that his game-bag was usually fuller when he went out than when he returned. Dindon, who was knowing in these mat- ters, always said that J. was a humbug ; that all this apparent fondness for the chase was a sham ; that Jones, as soon as he got out of sight of town, found some shady place, ate the dinner that stuffed the game-bag, and went to sleep ; when he woke, would drag himself through a thicket hard by, muddy his boots in a swamp, and return with the marks of severe fatigue and determ- ined hunting upon him, and with whatever game he might be able to purchase from straggling urchins or old negroes who had been lucky with their traps. For the rest, Jones had some rare com- panionable qualities. He could give a joke with enviable point and readiness, and take one with like grace and good-humor. The sprightly sketches which illuminate this unskillful narra- tive are the most appropriate and shall be the only introduction of our friend Porte Crayon. He has rendered the subjects with great truthfulness, and has exhibited even some tenderness in the handling of them. If he has no^^hing extenuated, he has, at least, set down naught in malice. Porte, indeed, modestly remarks that his poor abilities were entirely inadequate to do justice either to the sublimity of the natural scenery or the preposterous absurdity of the human species on that memorable expedition. PKEPAEATIONS FOll THE JOURNEY. I'J Mr. Smith, a gentleman of imposing presence, of few words, but an ardent and determined sportsman, and a zealous promoter of the expedition, completes the catalogue. Some time during the month of May, X. M. C. (for certain rea- sons his initials only are used), an accomplished and talented gen- tleman residing at a distance from M , received a letter which ran as follows : "Dear X., — "We have fixed upon the 1st of June to start for the Canaan coun- try. Our party will consist of Dindon, Jones, Smith, your old friend Penn, and my- self. Can you join us ? If so, give us immediate notice, and set about making youi- preparations without delay. I would recommend to you to procure the following; equipments : a water-proof knapsack, fishing-tackle, and a gun ; a belt with pistols — a revolver would be preferable, in case of a conflict with a panther ; a hunting- knife for general purposes — a good ten-inch blade, sharp and reliable ; it will be use- ful for cleaning fish, dressing game, and may serve you a turn when a bear gets you down in a laurel-brake. Store your knapsack with an extra pair of shoes, a change of raiment, such as will resist water and dirt to the last extremity, a pair of leggins to guard against rattlesnakes, and the following eatables : one dozen biscuits, one pound of ham, one pound of ground coffee, salt, pepper, and condiments. This will be the private store of each person ; the public supplies will be carried out on horses. "The place of rendezvous is the Berkeley Springs ; the day the 31st of May. " Yours in haste, Pokte CEAyoN." The corresponding committee had the gratification of receiving a favorable reply to the foregoing : "X. will certainly come." All right ; the party is made up. The last of May has come. Cray- on, in full hunting costume, is standing on the portico of the great hotel at the Berkeley Springs. Messrs. Jones and Smith have ar- rived ; their equipments have been examined and pronounced un- exceptionable. Here comes X. What a pair of leggins ! And there's Penn with him, in a blue jacket out at the elbows, with a rod like Don Quixote's lance. "Ah, gentlemen! well met," shouted Penn, as they approached. "You see before you a personification of Prince Hal, at a time when he kept rather low company." Quoth Jones, "He looks more like Poins on a thieving expedition." "Ah! my fat friend, are you there? glad to see you. I have a rod here, gentlemen, that will make you envious. See how su- perbly balanced ! what a spring it has ! the very thing for brook- fishing, for whipping the smaller streams. And then see how easily carried." Suiting the action to the word, he unjointed it, B 18 THE VIllGINIAN CANAAN. A HUMBUG. iind slipped it into a neat case, portable, light, and elegant. ' i procured one of the same sort for Smith when I was in New York. I will show you also a supply of artificial flies," continued Penn, drawing a leather case from his knapsack, "and a fine bug calcu- lated for the largest sized trout." Here he produced a bug, which renewed the astonishment and hilarity of the company. "What is it forr "What sort of creature is it?" "What does it represent?" shouted one and all. "I have not dipped into ento- mology lately, but I have been assured that this bug is calcu- lated to take none but the larg- est fish. No small fish will ap- proach it, from personal appre- hension ; and no trout under two-and-twenty inches in length Avould venture to swallow it." "If I were called upon to classify that bug," said Jones, "I would call it a chimera ; in the vernacular, humbug f " Come to supper," said Porte. "We start at two o'clock to- night by the train," The sun that rose fair and bright on the morning of the first of June found our fishermen just entering the United States Hotel in the town of Cumberland. "Who the are they?" inquired one of the matutinal loaf- ers in the bar-room. " Oh ! they be some o' these HungVy fellers, I reckon," replied a gaping stable-boy. _ "Right, boy, right!" said Mr. Jones ; "quite right; here's a dime. Landlord, let us have breakfast in the shortest time imag- inable." The route from Cumberland to the Oakland dep6t, on the sum- mit of the Alleghanies, and the trip from thence by wagon to Tow- ers', was as barren of notable adventure as it was fruitful in joke^ THE HORSES AND GUIDES. ly and hilarity. At Towers' they found their old comrade Dindon, who had gone ahead to procure guides, horses, etc. ""Well, what have you brought up?" asked Dindon. "Eleven hundred and forty biscuit, twenty pounds of ground coffee, forty pounds of middling, and two hams ; lard, salt, pep- per, sugar, et cetera; all well packed and in good order. What have you done *?" ' ' The eight loaves of bread are ready. " ' ' Good ! " " The horses are ready." " Good !" " The guides are still to be looked after.'" "Hum! let us see the horses." "Andrew, bring out the animals." Lame Kit and Old Sorry here made their first appearance on the stage, and were received with mingled laughter and indigna- tion. Lame Kit's fore leg was as stiff as a ramrod ; and old Sor- ry, among other defects, was blind and distempered. "What an inhuman idea!" said Jones. "You don't really mean to afflict these wretched tackles with such loads of baggage as we have here?' Dindon was aroused. " I'll bet a thousand dollars you haven't two such horses on your estate." "No, I'll swear to it," responded Jones. "If I had, I'd have them shot within an hour." "No, sir," rejoined Dindon, with heat. " I mean that you can't produce their equals for strength and endurance." "I won't take advantage of you," said Jones, "but will offer you a more equal bet : that, if you load them with this baggage, neither of them will live to reach the banks of the Cheat River. '" "That shows your judgment in horseflesh. But what can be expected of a man educated north of the Potomac % What can he know about horses ?" Jones assumed an attitude confronting Dindon. "I'd like to know," said he, "if Northern horses are not universally conceded to be superior to Southern ?" " Gentlemen," interposed X., "I foresee an interminable -wran- gle. We'll adjourn. Cough them down." The following day was spent in engaging guides. Thornhill, an intelligent, energetic, good-tempered fellow, agreed to undertake the business. His dwelling was a specimen of rural architecture 20 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. not noticed by Downing, nor characterized by any of the writers on that subject. Porte declared it looked like the connecting link between a hut and a wood-pile ; but, like the pearl in the oyster, the gem of disinterested hospitality is found as frequently in these humble abodes as in the proudest mansions of our good old State. vTHORNHILLS CABIN. All things being arranged at ToAvers' for an early start on the third, Crayon and X. M. C shouldered their guns and knapsacks, and started for Conway's, nine miles distant, on the route to the Canaan country. They were to engage Conway to accompany the party, and to be in readiness to join the main body as they passed in the morning. Crayon had traveled the road on a former occa- sion, and, as he pretended to considerable skill in Avoodcraft, con- fidently took the lead, and struck into the forest by a blind path. For four or five miles all went well, until the declining sun was hidden by the tall crowns of the firs, and the path became more and more indistinct. Crayon became thoughtful, and dropped behind. "Whose dogs are these?" quietly asked X. Crayon looked up, and saw two wolves standing in the path, within thirty paces of them, staring with amazement at the strange intruders. In the twinkling of an eye his piece Avas leveled, but the wolves, Avith equal celerity, had betaken themselves to the bushes. IN THE DARK. 21 " "Well, you dotft say they were wolves ? I supposed they were some of the neighbors' dogs. What a mortification ! I might have shot them both." "There are no neighbors hereabouts, X., and no dogs wander- ing about. The rule is to crack away at every four-legged crea- ture you see, and the chances are that it is legitimate game. But we must be moving; night is coming rapidly on. Push on for Conway's. " Within the next mile Crayon came to a stand-still. "X.," said he, musingly, "at what hour does the moon rise to-night?" "Don't know ; haven't observed ; are we not near Conway's T " My friend, it is useless to disguise matters. In fifteen minutes it will be pitch-dark. I have seen no trace of a path for the last half mile. This country looks strange to me. I couldn't go back if I would, I wouldn't go if I could ; we should be laughed at." "This life is all new to me," said X., with resignation; "but go on, and I'll follow till death." "X., can you see a star, or any thing that might serve as a guide to prevent us from making circles V "ISTo, I can see nothing but trees and bushes, and can hardly see them." "Follow on, then ; we'll try it." As they trudged on, the forest grew murkier and darker, and the undergrowth more dense and tangled. "Where are you, Porte ?" " Here ; come on." "Ho ! I'm up to my knees in a marsh !" "Hist ! did you hear that V "Yes. Keep close, and don't shoot, or we may kill each other. Be care- ful of your fire-arms, and depend on your hunting-knife." "Good heavens ! we are getting into a laurel-brake. Turn back, or we are gone." On they struggled, torn by briers, throttled by wild vines, and tripped up by fallen timber. "Porte ! stop. I'm ready to perish with fatigue ; let us rest a while on this log." "X., did you ever sleep in the woods?" "No, I never did." "Have you any thing to eat in your knapsack?" 22 THE VIEGINIAN CANAAN. "Not a mouthful ; to lighten my load, I tumbled mine into the general provision-bag." ' ' I did the same thing. " "How unlucky! I will take this impressive opportunity, Mr. X., to read you a lesson in woodcraft. Never leave the camp without a day's provision Avith you." "But are we likely to get to Conway's to-night?" "The probabilities seem to be against it ; but let us try again." Another hour of fruitless toil, and no hope. "X., don't it seem to be getting lighter on our left hand?" "Ho! by all that's jolly, I'm on open ground, and feel some- thing like a beaten track under my feet." A broad gleam of light shot across the wood like the sudden flash of a torch, revealing a long vista in the forest and the trod- den and rutted surface of the highway. "Whoop! whoop! hurrah! the moon and the big road — the big road and the moon. I knew it ! I knew I couldn't be mis- taken. Here's the stream. We're not a mile from Conway's." The wanderers, notwithstanding their fatigue and knapsack's, in- dulged in a pas de deux and an embrace, then cheerily resumed their route. The moon rose higher and higher ; anon they heard the bark of a dog — a long, welcome bow-wow. X. quoted Byron : " 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark." Then they came to a clearing, with a double cabin in the midst. The chorus of dogs was at its full. " Get out, ye whelps ! Who's there?" "Hallo! old otter, com^ out of your den. Here are friends." The old man stuck his weasel face out of the door, and after a short scrutiny recognized Porte Crayon. "Well done," said he; "but I'm glad to see ye. I heard ye were in the country, but I didn't expect to see ye at this time o' night. But come in ; ye must be hungry. Gals, get up, and find the gentlemen some supper." The old man's buxom daughters tumbled out of a bed in a dark corner of the room, and soon the fresh-heaped fire roared and spark- led in the chimney, and the table Avas spread with the best in the house — cold bread and meat, fragrant glades butter, rich milk, and CONWAY'S. 23 maple beer. As they supped, they narrated their adventure with the wolves, at which their host chuckled greatly. A bed in the spare room of the cabin received the weary couple, who slept soundly until the morning. " How delicious ! What an invigorating atmosphere ! What a magnificent forest is this that walls us round ! " were their first exclamations on issuing from the cabin. When they had break- fasted, they took their seats upon a comfortable stump in front of the house, while Conway completed his simple arrangements for the journey. "Is the fat gentleman in your company this time"?" inquired he. "Well, I never expected to a-seed him agin. Is the big-eyed gentleman coming too ? he that writ a book, I disremember his name. And the one with spectacles V "Yes, they are all coming." Anon, loud voices are heard issuing from the depths of the for- est, which gradually approach, until those of Jones and Dindon are distinguishable, and the words, confusedly mingled, "Northern 24 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. horses — Southern horses — trotters — thousand dollars — Eclipse ;" then a long string of expletives. The head of the column emerges from the wood : this is no other than the fat man, stripped to his silk shirt and pantaloons, Avith a great pack on his back and a sap- ling in his hand ; he was a good personification of Orson of the Wood. He presently halted and faced about. "Dindon, I say, hush ! you have the advantage of wind in this argument, but not of reason. You know I am short of breath ; I can't walk and discuss at the same time; it is ungenerous to press it now ; wait until we halt for dinner. At present I say, peremptorily, hush ! " The detachment from Conway's now joined the march, and, whooping, laughing, singing, and wrangling, they wound along un- der the gloomy archAvay of the trackless forest. As they march- ed the party naturally fell into Indian file, with the baggage in the centre. Thornhill, with his tomahawk belted about him, led the van ; Dindon, Crayon, and Penn followed ; then came Lame Kit, led by Conway, and Old Sorry, conducted by Powell, a hunt- er who was engaged to go in with them to bring the horses out after they had reached their destination. Smith and X. M. C. formed the rear guard, and far behind lagged Mr. Jones, probably with the intention of avoiding useless discussions, and of mana- THE MARCH. FIRST NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 25 ging his wind to the greatest advantage. After a march of six miles they entered a green glade of great beauty, watered by an amber rivulet, which they leaped with their packs and guns. This rivulet was the infant Potomac ; that leap was from Maryland into Virginia. Now they breasted a mountain — a long, tiresome tug it was, that took the conceit out of more than one of the par- ty who started fair that morning. On the summit they took a breathing-spell. This is the dividing ridge between the waters of the East and the West. In a short time they crossed another am- ber brook, a tributary of the Ohio, and one of the immediate sources of the Blackwater. About five o'clock in the afternoon they emerged from the dreary forest into another waving glade, and at the farther border Thornhill gave the welcome order to halt for the night. Cheerfully our adventurers deposited their guns and knapsacks, and, after a brief repose, joined the hunters in heaping up dry logs and combustibles for the camp-fire. How the fire blazed and crackled ! How grandly the smoke volumed up among the lofty tree-tops ! The horses, relieved of their burdens, were tethered in the glade, up to their bellies in grass. While preparations for supper were going on, several of the party got out their i fishing- tackle, and tried; the little stream that watered the glade. It was alive with trout; and half an hour after, a hundred , of the small fry were served up 'at; supper with the biscuit and bacon. It was a meal that a monarch imight envy. A good bed of hemlock branches was duly spread, the fire replenished with larger logs, and the weary party disposed itself to sleep as best it might, pil- lowed on log or knapsack. The excitement produced by the nov- elty of the situation kept X. awake. The gloom of the forest around was intense ; the camp-fire blazed in the centre of a group of four lofty firs, whose straight and mast-like trunks were illu- minated by its light for a hundred feet without the interruption of a limb, and whose tops interlaced and formed a lofty and al- most impervious covering over the sleepers. X. raised himself upon his elbow and broke the silence : " What a picturesque scene ! What a couch ! What a cano- py! What sublime bed-posts!" 26 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. " Go to sleep, poet," growled a drowsy fellow, " or youll be sor- ry for it to-morrow." THE ALARM. Presently a noise was heard in the forest — a wild, unearthl}- cry, an incomprehensible sound. Every body sprang up. "What the deuce is itf inquired the sleepers,. rubbing their eyes. " Gen- tlemen," said Dindon, deliberately cocking his rifle, "get your arms ready. I know that sound well ; it is the cry of a wolf" Again the terrible voice echoed through the wood, nearer and more distinct. There was a general clicking of gun-locks. Jones, who had made himself a comfortable nest at the foot of a tree, pitched into the centre of the group ; Crayon sat the picture of THE ALARM. 27 deliberate valor, with hunting-knife in one hand, revolver in the other, and a rifle lying across his lap ; X. crept on all-fours to get possession of his double-barrel ; Penn, in whose poetic bosom the joy of meeting with an adventure overbalanced every personal consideration, with nervous haste drew forth his book, and began noting down the incident. Thornhill and Powell, however, so far from evincing any anxiety, seemed bursting with suppressed laugh- ter, while Conway sat smoking his pipe with imperturbable grav- ity. Here is an extract from Mr. Penn's note-book : " Camp No. 1,10 o'clock P.M. — ^Disturbed by a terrible cry, somewhat resembling this : Too-too — too-hoo — ^too-too — too-hoo. Supposed to be wolves or panthers. In momentary expectation of an attack. If we perish .... Half -past ten. — Sounds ascertained to proceed from owls of the largest size, but not dangerous. Camp calm, and disposed to slumber." Next morning our adventurers were stirring betimes — refreshed the half-extinct fire, dispatched a hasty breakfast, and resumed their march before sunrise. This was a hard day for most of them. The broken sleep and unusual beds had not done much to repair the fatigues of the previous day ; the hills were steeper ; and the fallen timber cumbered the route so greatly, that they were fre- quently obliged to make long detours to find a passage practicable for the horses. The bodies of these fallen giants afibrded quite a curious spec- tacle as they lay prone and supine, singly and in monstrous heaps, frequently a hundred and fifty feet in length and eighteen in girth, coated with a r^ch covering of moss, and their decayed wood af- fording a soil for thickets of seedlings of their own and other spe- cies. Sometimes they were seen spanning a ravine at a giddy height, like suspension bridges, the parasite growth forming a par- apet or hand-rail, as if for the safety and convenience of the pass- er. Sometimes the faithless surface yielded to the tread, and the astounded hunter found himself imbedded to the armpits in what he had supposed to be solid wood. The climbing of these barri- cades was one of the principal items in the fatigue of the journey, and any one who happened to look back on that day would gen- erally see Mr. Jones astride of one of them, beseeching the party to wait a while. It would be well for the venatical reputation of .)g THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. Mr. Jones if the events of this day could be effaced from the rec- ord, or covered by a black veil, like the face of Marino Faliero among the doges of Venice. " Look at him," quoth Dindon, triumphantly ; "he pretended to underrate that lame mare, and now he's glad to hang on her tail. He said she couldn't carry her load to the Cheat River, and now she is carrying his knapsack and himself into the bargain. I suppose, Jones, you'll now own you're no judge of horse-flesh V THROUGH THE WOODS. " It's too bad," said X. "Let go, Jones. Have you no great- ness of soul? Don't you see the poor beast can hardly get along f' But, deaf alike to satire or remonstrance, Jones kept his hold, until Kit, with a long-drawn breath, stood stock-still. "Thar', no-#," said the hunter, "I've been a looking for her to drop." The mare was released, and Jones attempted to seize Old Sorry by the same appendage. He, however, being too blind to see the justice of such a proceeding, relieved himself with a kick. The hunters had been dodging the laurel-brakes all day. They seemed to dread the passage, and would frequently go miles around to avoid it. They had stories of men who had spent days in them, wandering in circles, and who had finally perished from starva- tion ; and they say when once fairly in there is no calculating AMONG THE LAUEELS. 29 PASSING THE LAURELS. ■ivhen you will get out. Some of these brakes extend for many miles, and are so dense that even the deer can not pass except by finding the thinnest places ; and when the experienced woodman is forced to cross, he always seeks a deer-^ath. The ponderous 30 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. strength of the bear enables him to traverse them more easily. In them he makes his lair ; and our adventurers often found the lau- rel recently torn and broken by bears in going to and from their places of retreat. With the horses the passage could not even be attempted without a previous clearing of the way by the axe-men. Upon consultation, it was considered necessary to cross the brake before them, and the guides went into it lustily, while the rest of the company, one after another, dropped asleep. In about two hours the way was cleared, but it was with much difficulty that the horses could be induced to proceed. The guides swore like the army in Flanders ; Kit's stiff leg would not yield to circum- stances ; and Sorry became several times so tangled that he had to be released by the axe. The footmen passed ahead of the horses, and soon found themselves in similar circumstances. They sank up to their knees in mud and water ; they were throttled by the snake-like branches of the laurel, and were frequently obliged to resort to their hunting-knives to extricate a leg or an arm from its grasp. Ascending the stump of a riven hemlock, a striking picture presented itself The laurel waved up and down as far as the eye could reach, like a green lake, with either shore walled by the massive forest, and out of its bed rose singly, or in groups of three or four, the tallest and most imposing of the fir species. The heads of our adventurers appeared and disappeared alternately as they struggled through ; and, whether visible or invisible, the crackling of branches, the rustling of leaves, and a rolling fire of execrations marked their progress. All else was silent. Toward evening a bear was seen, but so worn and spiritless were the adventurers that no one thought of pursuing it. All were anxious to reach the river that evening, as they had proposed. At length the ridge upon which they traveled seemed suddenly to terminate, and they heard, far below, the rushing of waterfalls. Here they came willingly to a halt, while the guides descended the mountain to ascertain their position. In the course of an hour they returned, reporting that the roaring was from the falls of the Blackwater, and that they now overlooked the site of the encamp- ment of the last season. By this time it had grown so dark and rained so heavily that it became indispensable to look out for a THE BIVOUAC. 31 place of encampment. The men dispersed to look for water, tak- ing care, however, always to keep within calling distance of each other. Water was soon found on the border of a laurel-brake, a most cheerless spot for a bivouac. The rain fell in torrents. The horses were unloaded, and a young birch cut down for them to browse upon, in default of grass. While some tried, apparently without success, to get together dry combustibles for a fire, others endeavored to secure the provisions, arms, and ammunition from the rain ; while others sunk down on the spot where they halted, and, wrapping their blankets about them, slept in spite of every thing. A more cheerless prospect for a night could scarcely be imagined. With garments soaked, blankets wet, every leaf drip- ping with water, and the earth covered with moss and dead leaves, like a sponge thoroughly saturated ; with limbs stiff with fatigue^ and shivering with cold, there seemed to be little chance of obtain- ing either rest or fire. Conway's woodcraft, however, triumphed over all difficulties. With knife and hatchet he peeled the bark from a fir about four feet in circumference. With this he shel- tered the fire until it got headway, and then heaping on such wood as was most combustible, there was soon a cheerful roaring blaze that defied the rain. He next, with forks, props, and cross-poles, erected the framework of a shed, twelve or fourteen feet long, which was speedily covered with bark, and afforded a complete shelter. The ground beneath was covered with hemlock branches, shaken and dried over the fire, to serve at once for seats and bedding. Fried middling and hot coffee were then served round, and from a most forlorn and unpromising beginning our adventurers found themselves in comparatively comfortable circumstances. Jones was, as usual, an object of peculiar attention. On their arrival at the halting-place Jones observed a large hemlock, which threw out its roots like the arms of a sofa. Between them a plump cushion of moss, which had hitherto escaped the rain, seemed to invite him to a seat. Mr. J. accepted the invitation, and set about making himself as comfortable as possible. Upon examining the ground about him, it occurred that just over his seat would be a very proper place to build the shed, and he gave orders accordingly. Whether from a malicious suggestion of some one else, or some THE VIRGINIAN CANAAlSt. sly waggery of his own, Conway took pains to locate the fire and shed at some distance off. Mr. Jones argued and remonstrated, but to no effect. The savor of supper enticed him from his lair for a short time, and he then found that the shed was so full there was not room for a ramrod. Mr. Jones was not a ramrod, nor was he to be outdone so easily. He took Conway aside in a mys- terious manner, and whispered something in his ear. Conway went out, and soon returned with a superb piece of fresh-peeled bark, with which Jones -Was duly covered. ' ' Look here, gentlemen, " said he, triumphantly, ' ' you may now go to grass with your shed. I wouldn't change places with the man in the middle." The shed replied with a shout of laughter and a storm of jokes. "He's now fairly embarked in it," cried one. "Looks more like he was embalmed," cried another. . " A mummy ! or a mud-turtle lying on his back ! Pharaoh the Fat ! I'd like to see Gliddon unroll him before the Historical So- ciety of Massachusetts. " "Rail on from your mud-hole, my good fellows ; but take my advice, and reserve your wit, for it will require more than you have got among you to keep yourselves dry to-night. I am en- tirely impervious either to jokes or rain. Good-night." ~ ^- — ' ^:^ " Vi THE MUMMY, Unfortunately for Jones's comfort, the wind changed, and the rain poured upon him in rivulets ; and shortly afterward groans and lamentations were heard in the direction of the mummy. ALL IN MY EVE. NIGHT AND MORNING. 33 "It seems to be in pain. Some one had better look after it/' said X. Con"\vay good-naturedly took a chunk of fire and went to the assistance of the sufferer. It turned out that the acrid sap from the hemlock bark had got into his eye ; but it was soon over, and a deep sleep fell upon them all, which lasted until the wood- robin warbled a reveille on the follow- ing morning. When they awoke it Avas still rain- ing, and, from all appearances, had been raining hard all night. A thin vapory smoke rose from the extinguished em- bers, and all nature was dripping. " By the beard of the Prophet !" exclaimed Porte Crayon, as he combed the leaves and sticks out of his own flowing appendage, "by the beard of Mohammed! I have been sleeping all night in a puddle of water." "The hydrostatic bed," said Mr. Smith, "is preferable to any other for an invalid." "Well done. Smith ; this is the first time we've heard from you since night before last. You must be getting better." "Thank you, I feel much better, and will hereafter be a believ- er in the water-cure." "Look here!" said X., sticking his heels into the air, while a stream poured from each boot. "Bless my soul!" quoth Mr. Penn, emphatically, as he gather- ed up his legs and arms like separate pieces of lumber, and scru- tinized the covering of the shed, ' ' there must be a leak in this roof. The water has been dribbling into my left ear until it is so full I can't hear." Just then a drop took him in the eye. "There ! blast the thing, I was sure of it." "Conway! Conway! my good friend, come here," cried a se- pulchral voice. "Hark from the tombs — the mummy desires to be uncased." "No; stand back! I don't want any of your aid. Conway, C 34 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. good fellow, remove this confounded bark. Gently — there — now help me to bend my legs. Oh ! ah ! whew ! thank you ; let go now, I think I can stand alone ;" and, after sundry eflforts, Mr. Jones recovered the use of his legs sufficiently to carry him to breakfast, where, by a free use of fried middling and hot coffee, he lubricated his limbs into their usual condition of activity. A council of war decided that the army was not in condition to move on that day ; that they should remain under cover, and re- pose, while such as felt disposed should go out as scouts to ex- plore thoroughly the surrounding country. Conway's talents were again called in requisition to extend and improve the comfort of their quarters. A pack of cards was introduced, and the day pass- ed in careless jollity. During the forenoon, Porte Crayon, accom- panied by Powell, went out to search for the Cheat River ; but, after walking in idle circles for two hours, and becoming entan- gled in a laurel-brake, they were glad to get back to camp. Din- don, Thornhill, and Powell were more successful, and returned late in the evening with the report that they had found the Cheat, and had wounded an otter. This news gave great satisfaction ; but their description of the stream differed so widely from the sup- posed location and size of that river, that the accuracy of the re- port was doubted by Mr. Penn and others who had been studying the geography of the country. CHAPTER II. LIFE IN CANAAN. The fourth morning proved a favorable one. The sun rose bright and clear, and our adventurers, refreshed in body and soul, resumed their journey "with cheerful alacrity. After marching about a mile, an extensive laurel-brake seemed to offer an impass- able barrier to their farther progress. Here the scouts of the pre- vious evening informed them that the river flowed through the laurel some two or three hundred yards distant, upon which in- formation a convenient spot was selected for a permanent encamp- ment. Conway, Dindon, and Thornhill undertook to build the house, while the rest of the party started eagerly to explore the river and have a day's sport. After traversing the thicket, the}* reached a stream about forty feet wide and of inconsiderable depth, completely hemmed in by laurel and beautifully arched with ever- greens, so dense and dark that it had a cavernous look. "This stream is certainly not the Cheat River," said Penn. Powell suggested that it might be the Canaan Fork. "There is no such stream known to geographers," said Penn. "It is the same," rejoined Powell, "that we ignorant hunters have been accustomed to call by that name, and it empties into the Cheat not far from here, I should say." "By the maps this stream has no right to be here at all," con- tinued Penn. " Either the maps or the stream must be mistaken. My map is a very correct map ; I don't like to doubt its authority, but I suppose I must defer to the actuality of the stream. Here it is. Now for the exploration." The party, headed by Crayon, straggled down the bed of the stream, sometimes waist deep, sometimes ankle deep, climbing or dodging the enormous tree trunks that bridged it at short inter- 36 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. vals. On turning a rocky bend, the stream, with its green arch- way, disappeared as if by some trick of magic, and a bright open landscape of mountain sides and distant hazy tops suddenly occu-. pied its place. Beneath their feet yawned an unfathomable chasm, from whose misty depths rose a confused sound of rushing waters. The hemlocks below looked like shrubs. Into this abyss the wild stream leaped, falling into a black pool scintillating with foam and bubbles. Here it seemed to tarry for a moment to gather strength for another and more desperate plunge ; then another and another, down ! down ! down ! and down went the explorers, shouting, leaping, sliding, and tumbling, catching the spirit of the scene, until they seemed as wild and reckless as the torrent. Tar- ry upon this shelving platform of rock and look up. A succes- sion of silvery cascades seem falling from the clouds. The pines which we saw beneath our feet now rise clear and diminutive against the blue sky. Below, the stream still pours down the yawning chasm. We can see it foaming far down, until rocks and trees are dim in the distance. Here's a clear leap of fifty feet ; what's to be done ? Can we go no farther ? The trunk of a fall- en hemlock has lodged against the rocky ledge. It stands at a perilous angle, and its decayed surface is covered with green and ■Jippery ooze. Who cares ! down we slide, one after another. What next 1 A shorter jump. On the opposite side is a tangled thicket of rhododendron ; to reach it we must cross a bridge fear- ful as the arch of Al-Sirat, a slender trunk that has drifted across the furious current. Hurrah ! the Ravels could not have done it better. Now swing down the laurels — not all at once, or they will break. Push on, boys ! that great foaming caldron below us must be the river. "There seems to be no way but this," said Porte, resolutely jumping upon a drifted trunk that projected full thirty feet over the ledge into the topmost branches of a lofty beech. He gained the tree in safety, and descended to the shore of the river. The others followed in rapid succession, although the dangerous bridge swayed and shook with each passenger. "Jones, don't try it! Jones, you're too heavy. It shakes ; it cracks ; by heaven, he's gone!" FALLS OF THE BLACK FORK. 37 With a sullen crash the heav\' log fell into the pool below, while •the intrepid Jones slid down the friendly beech, amid the bravos and felicitations of his com- rades. Jones sat panting on a rock, red with exertion, beaded with perspiration, all saturated with water, and green with ooze. What a miraculous change Can that be the same being that * hung to old Kit's tail, or that groaned so lustily when he got sap in his eye? Jones, who cross- ;^ ed the bridge with the step of a rope-dancer, and who walked the drift-log with the courage of a ^ Delhi? Oh Nature ! how mighty arc thy influences upon the impress- ible souls of men. How surelj do thy softer beauties woo to luxury and indolence the same spirits who, amid thy rocks and thundering cataracts, are roused to energy and active daring. FALLS OF THE BLACK FORK OF CHEAT 38 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. The Black Fork of Cheat, * where our party stood, was about two hundred feet in width, and poured its amber flood, at an angle of some seven or eight degrees, over a bed of monstrous boulders, and between mountain walls a thousand or twelve hundred feet in height. "It looks tome," said X.,"like the bursting of Barclay and Perkins's big beer-tub, you remember, that flooded half London, and drowned so many people." "I wish to heaven it was beer," said Jones ; "I think I could drink a barrel of it on the spot." Such was the excitement and exhilaration produced by the dis- covery of these beautiful falls, that fishing became, for the time, a secondary object, and but few trout were caught. Penn and Smith, however, could not long resist the desire of trying their fine rods. Having uncased and fitted them up, they made a simulta- neous throw. Smith's foot slipped, and he came down upon the point of his rod, splintering it to the last joint. Penn made a FATE OF THE FANCY BODS. * More recent explorations have ascertained that the river referred to in this nar- rative is the main stem of the Blackwater, which empties into the Black Fork of Cheat some 9 miles below. The streams spoken of as the Blackwater and Canaan Fork are nameless tributaries of the Blackwater Eiver hitherto unexplored and un- known. Our travelers, it seems, did not reach the Cheat Eiver at all. HOME IN CANAAN. 39 magnificent fling ; but, having forgotten to attach his line to the reel, three of the joints went over the falls, carrjdng with them the sea-grass line and that incredible specimen of entomology, the bug. Having disposed of his rod to his complete satisfaction, Smith proposed to Crayon that they should make an exploration of the river, following its course downward toward the mouth of the Blackwater. They persevered in this undertaking until they had accomplished some two or three miles ; but finding the route scarce- ly less difficult and hazardous than the descent of the falls, and having in the mean time emptied their haversacks, they concluded to return and rejoin their comrades. They found them waiting at the foot of the falls, tired of fishing, which had been unsuccessful, owing to the swollen condition of the stream. The ascent of the falls was accomplished with more circumspec- tion and with less danger than the descent. The precipices were avoided by scrambling up on the mountain sides through the lau- rel, and the explorers rejoined the building committee early in the afternoon. As they approached the spot, each one was big with the scenes and adventures of the day, and thirsting to begin the narrative of his personal experiences and exploits. They sudden- ly drew up, like men bewildered, and then gave a simultaneous shout of pleasure and admiration. "Hurrah for Conway! Hurrah for Dindon! Hurrah for Thornhill ! Well, this outdoes the wonders of the Canaan Fork !" exclaimed X. Before them stood a neat and roomy cottage, complete at all points, with an open front, before which blazed a glorious fire ; the baggage all securely and neatly bestowed, with shelves and fix- tures for the cooking utensils, a rack at the fire for drying clothes, and, indeed, every comfort and convenience that could have been desired, and more than could have been reasonably hoped for. Conway sat philosophically smoking his pipe at the entrance ; Thornhill was cooking supper ; and Dindon, with a hospitable wave of the hand, desired them to walk in, make themselves at home, and take a bite of supper with him. It was creditable to the exploring party that not a word was said in relation to their own adventures until the full meed of 40 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. praise had been bestowed upon the builders for the ingenuity and industry which they had manifested in the accomplishment of their work. The enjoyment of the evening, however, was dampened by the unfavorable accounts of the condition of the river, and the di- minished chances for sport. That night the mercury in Porte Crayon's pocket thermometer stood at 32°, and, notwithstanding the well-nourished fire and comfortable shelter, it was impossible to sleep on account of the cold. That night also finished Mr. Jones. The reaction from the enthusiasm of the previous day, combined with the cold and loss of rest, brought the mercury of his spiritual thermometer below zero. Powell was about to start that morning with the horses for the settlements. After partak- ing of a hearty breakfast, Jones formally announced his intention of accompanying them. "Without regarding the exclamations of surprise which this announcement called forth, he proceeded as follows : "A decent respect for the opinions of the world makes it nec- essary that I should give my reasons for this step. They are briefly these : I came out here for sport and pleasure ; I have found neither. I have been out five days, and have not caught five trout. I have been tired to death, and unable to sleep — sat- urated, frozen, devoured by gnats and wood-ticks." "And got sap in your eye," suggested Dindon. " And besides, instead of venison and trout, I have been gorged with fried bacon and biscuit until I am sick of seeing them." " Three times five makes fifteen," said X. "He has been gorged just fifteen times, to say nothing of snacks and odd biscuits. Poor fellow ! how he must have suffered ! " "And," pursued Jones, in a louder key, "I pronounce the ex- pedition a failure and a humbug, and, consequently, I will return with Powell." Several hasty remarks were half uttered, when Porte Crayon rose and affectionately addressed Mr. Jones : "In expressing my deep regret at your sudden departure, let me assure you that I am heartily seconded by every one here pres- ent ; a regret that would have been felt under any circumstances, but which is doubly felt when we remember the gallant and spir- MR. JONES'S FAREWELL. 41 ited Jones of yesterday. And let me also express a hope that the acrimonious character of your remarks is the result of physical discomfort rather than of any unkind feeling toward this party or any member of it." "Not a trace of it !" warmly responded Jones ; "quite the con- trary, I assure you all. I was wrong to say any thing against the enterprise ; you all have enjoyed it, I have no doubt. But I will confess I'm not fit for this life. I'm — I am — friendship demands the sacrifice, and I'll out with the truth : I'm too confounded fat ! " A shout of approbation followed the avowal. "Jones, my dear fellow, your hand! Let's have a cordial embrace all round." They started off — when Jones suddenly turned about. "Ah! X., my friend, come here. You were kind enough to make a cal- culation for me while I was speaking. It was civil of you. As I am going home, and you will probably have a great deal of walking to do before your re- turn, I'll make you a present of my extra boots. Adieu!" How Mr. Jones walked till « he was out of sight, and then mounted Lame Kit ; how he had a surprising adventure with a hen-pheasant ; and how he got safe back to the settlements, have nothing to do with this narrative, and, consequently, will be considered as not having been alluded to at all. The parties who went out to try the streams again soon return- ed unsuccessful and disappointed, and betook themselves to "all- fours" for the remainder of the day. Conway, however, who had gone over to the Blackwater, returned with about a hundred and fifty fine trout. This lucky forage afforded the company a couple of hearty meals, and determined them to leave their present loca- tion, and seek a more favorable one on the Blackwater ; not, how- ever, without many expressions of regret at deserting their fine cabin. MR. Jones's legacy. 42 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. On the following morning they marched about four miles, and came upon the Blackwater Creek about a mile above the falls. As they fqllowed down the bed of the stream, a deer was seen to cross a short distance from them, which so excited X. that he made a rush to get ahead of the main body, and, if possible, to get a shot. Just as he was about at- taining his object, he set foot upon a slip- pery stone, and pitch- ed head foremost in- to the water. As he emerged again, his gun spouting from both barrels, he was hailed with shouts of encour- agement: "There goes the deer! shoot! bang away !" X. politely requested the compa- ny to go to a place where cold water was more of a rarity, and quietly took his position in the rear of the column. The site chosen for the new encampment was on the brow of a cliif, within thirty paces of the great fall, a situation of unequaled beauty and savage grandeur. Surrounded by a tangled thicket of the rhododendron, canopied by the loftiest firs, the thunder of the cataract in their ears day and night, and its spray freshening the atmosphere they breathed, our adventurers passed the eight days that followed in the fullest enjoyment of the pleasures of for- est life. Every day added to the treasures of Porte Crayon's sketch-book. The author reveled in a poetic existence, basking on moss-covered rocks, among foaming rapids and sparkling water- falls ; and if his haggard, unshaven countenance and dilapidated MR. JL. HiVSTENS TO GET A SHOT AT A DEER. LIFE IN CANAAN. 43 wardrobe presented a strong contrast to his mental beatitude, it only exemplified the more strikingly the predominance of mind over matter, and the entire disconnection that sometimes exists between the ideal and the material world. On the first favorable day after their location, X. M. C, who had not yet fleshed his maiden hook in the gills of a trout, went out with Conway to try his luck. After many unsuccessful at- tempts, he at length hooked a fellow, and drew him out of the water with such a jerk (X. is possessed of great physical vigor) that rod, line, and fish were lodg- ed in the overhanging bran ches of a tree. Here was a spite. The'fetream was wriggling with trout, and X. had just acquired the knack of hooking them ; but his imple- ments, and, worse than all, the first trophy of his skill, were hanging on the envious boughs. Now, if X. M.C. had any one trait that predomi- nated over all others, it was determination. Mis- siles were plenty, and he straightway opened on the devoted fish a min- gled shower of stones, sticks, and anathemas. At the end of an horn- he succeeded in bringing him down, well dried, and slightly tainted. "Well!" quoth Conway, who, from a short distance, had been the philosophical eye-witness of the proceeding, and who, during the time, had bagged some sixty of the finest trout, " well ! I've THE FIRST TROUT OF MR. X. 44 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. seed fish catchecl in a great many different ways, but I never seed 'em chunked out of trees afore." About four o'clock in the afternoon our sportsmen generally gathered in for dinner. There is a kind of seasoning found in these mountain countries which gives to the coarsest food a savor, compared with which Delmoni- ,^ ^ . co's chefs de cuisine are insipid. "' '■ ^^ * ''* ^ Would it not be possible for some of our chemists to make an extract from this sauce, and bottle it for city use? How would your truffles, your mush- rooms, your a la Marengo's, be blotted from the list of delica- cies, and their places filled with sauce a VAUegheine, and fried middling, saute a Vair de le Montague. After dinner cof- fee and cards were introduced ; and when it became too dark for all-fours, " the vaulted aisles of the dim wood rang" with songs, choruses, and recitations; and it is no more than just to mention that the neighboring bears had occasionally opportunities of hearing perform- ances that would have challenged the admiration of the most gifted cir- cles in the land. On rainy days the camp had quite an air of domes- FALLS OF THE BIACKWATEK. ENCAMPED ON THE BLACKWATE-R. 45 ticity. Injthe centre was the eternal party at "old sledge." The author, wearied with such trite amusement, conned his note-book in one corner ; the artist, in another, arranged and retouched his sketches ; while old Conway, with his jack-knife, passed his time in manufacturing wooden spoons, plates, and water-tight baskets of bark. •A^ — ».V- ,* ? / 1 % ^ " CAMP ON THE BLACKWATEB. Conway was the most accomplished of woodsmen : small in stature, narrow-shouldered, and weasel-faced; insensible to fatigue, to hunger, or the vicissitudes of the weather ; a shrewd hunter, a skillful fisher, unfailing in resources, he was ready in every emer- gency. He could build a comfortable house, and furnish it in a 46 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. day, with no other material than what the forest afforded, and no other tools than his axe and jack-knife. Nor was he destitute of the arts of civilized life. He could mend clothes and cobble shoes with surprising dexterity ; and any one who has visited his cabin may have observed an old fiddle hanging beside his powder-horn and pouch. When in camp his pipe was never out ; he smoked before and after meals, when at work and when idle. He talked little, but occasionally told a quaint story of his hunting adven- tures, or cracked a dry joke ; and the sharp twinkle of his gray eye, when any thing humorous was in question, showed the keen- ness of his appreciation of good-natured fun. Rainy days were also fruitful in debates, which a discreet per- son might have characterized as noisy wrangles ; and, as usual, the vehemence of the debaters was great in proportion to the lit- tleness of the subject. It must be confessed the range of ques- tions was a wide one — any thing from the Constitution of the United States down to the propriety of a play at "old sledge." The parties generally stood arrayed, Dindon against the field, the field against Dindon. One day Dindon was six in the game, and stood on the knave with another trump. Two consecutive leads brought down his jack, and he lost the game, but characterized his opponent's play as absurd and contrary to Hoyle. The whole pack — not of cards, but of players — Opened upon him. The dis- pute waxed hotter and hotter, Dindon waxed redder and redder, and finally lost all command of himself. He glared about him like a baited bear. Suddenly rushing forward, he seized Conway's axe. The debaters scattered and dodged like rats in a pantry ; but he deigned not to cast a look upon them, and strode out, up- setting the water-bucket and knocking over the clothes-rack in his progress. Presently he found himself vis-a-vis with an enormous hemlock, full fifteen feet in girth. "Without considering the size and vigor of his opponent, he attacked him furiously. He knock- ed out chips as large as dinner-dishes, and the earth around was soon white with them. For a long time the combat seemed to be equal. The perspiration stood on Dindon's forehead in drops as large as kidney-beans. The inhabitants of the camp stood around at a respectful distance, dodging the chips, and wondering. Anon PENN'S ABVENTUEE. 47 WRATH OF MB. DINDON. the lofty crown of the hemlock was seen to waver, the blows of the axe resounded with redoubled force, the trunk cracked and crackled, the gigantic forest king began to sink, at first slowly, then with a rushing sound, and, with a thundering crash like the broadside of a frigate, he fell, crushing under him like shrubs a dozen trees, each of which might have been the pride of a city park. Dindon wiped his cheerful and unclouded brow, and with an air of careless triumph slung the axe into a log. "There, now!" said he; "some of you smart gentlemen may chop that fellow into fire-sticks, and carry them to the camp." "By the body of Hercules !" exclaimed X., as the green wood rang with shouts of applause and triumph. " Shade of Milo ! I here make a vow never to dispute with Dindon again on any sub- ject ; the fate of that hemlock has convinced me that he can never be wrong, and that the rest of us are but poor feeble mortals, aft- er all." One afternoon the attention of the party in the shed was direct- ed to the external world by the increasing roar of the cataract. It had been drizzling all day, but for an hour or more the rain fell by bucketsfuU. Some apprehensions were expressed for the safety of Penn and Conway, who were absent on a fishing excur- sion. Accordingly, the party all went down to the banks of the stream to look out for the absentees. The Blackwater seemed run mad ; and the fall, swelled to treble its usual volume, made the very hills tremble. Quantities of drift were passing, and some shade of real anxiety clouded the faces of the watchers. " Oh horror !" exclaimed X., " oh fatal day ! there goes Penn's body! there! there! he's over the falls ! he's gone!" "Why," said Thornhill, "that looked to me like a forked stick." ^g THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. "No," insisted X., "it was Penn, I recognized his legs. I cant be mistaken." Many kindly regrets were expressed, and eulogies pronounced upon his virtues, talents, and amiable traits, some of which the defunct had the pleasure of overhearing as he crept out of a lau- rel thicket, and followed up the path to the shelter, all forlorn and dripping. "Why, here comes the gentleman now," said Thornhill. " Angels and ministers of grace, defend us !" exclaimed X., throwing himself into a superb attitude; "Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned, Thou com' St in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee A ghost of shreds and patches. I'll call thee Penn. Oh answer me ; let me not burst in ignorance ; but tell How many fish you've caught — and where's the Otter?" "The Otter is coming on with the fish," replied the ghost,-in a sepulchral voice. " We've got about two hundred. In the mean time, hasten supper. IVe had a narrow escape from drowning, and am now perishing with hunger." At that moment Conway appeared with his load of fish, which were hailed with acclamations. "Disciple of Izaak Walton !" said X., embracing the dripping body of Mr. Penn, and squeezing him like a sponge in his grate- ful ecstasy, "may you live forever. Glorious Otter! what a fry well have!" And Mr. X. forthwith repaired to the fallen hem- lock, and furnished himself with the largest chip he could find, to serve as a plate for the anticipated supper. While this was cooking, Mr. Penn seated himself on the end of a log at the fire, and narrated his adventure. He and Conway had been some distance up the Blackwater, and had been very successful. Mr. Penn was seated on a rock in the middle of the stream, and so intent was he on the sport, that he did not notice either the rain or the rise of the water. (As has been before ob- served, Mr. Penn has a remarkable gift of abstracting himself from Avorldly surroundings.) When the water began to pour over the rock on which he was sitting, he jumped up, and, to his amaze- FAREWELL TO CANAAN. 49 ment, found himself hemmed in by the foaming torrent. He made a plunge to gain the nearest bank, lost his footing, and was wash- ed up like a piece of drift among some rocks. Here he found himself on the wrong side. The appearance of the stream was terrific, but the terror of an unsheltered and supperless night was greater. Presently he saw Conway on the other side, making un- intelligible signs to him. He rushed into the water up to his arm-pits, but it looked like suicide to go on, and he struggled back to the bank. Then a large tree drifted by and lodged against the rocks, forming a temporary bridge that reached nearly across. The thought of supper braced him to the desperate venture, and he leaped upon the log. With his weight, the end upon which he jumped broke loose, and swung rapidly round like a flying ferry, bringing him within reach of the laurels on the opposite side. Penn grasped the bushes and saved himself, while the tree, loosed from its moorings, hurried on toward the falls. "This I consider a very respectable adventure," said Penn, hand- ing over his tin cup for his second pint of coffee, and deliberately separating the rich salmon flakes from the spinal column of a large trout — deliberately, we say, for Mr. Penn was then on his four- teenth fish. But all things must come to an end sooner or later. The par- ty were all gathered under the bark roof, some smoking, others conversing in a more quiet and serious tone than had been usual among them. X. M. C. finally spoke out. "Friends and fellow-woodmen," said he, "our sojourn in the wilderness is about to end. "We have promised to be at Towers' on the 16th. To fulfill this promise, we must start homeward to- morrow morning. Owing to the early departure of Mr. Jones, we still have an abundance of provision, and might, if we were so disposed, remain a week longer ; but the council seem to have de- termined on going. "Well, let it be so. We have not realized all our expectations on coming out. We have killed neither bear, panther, nor deer. We have not even varied our diet with cat- fish soup — (nodding to Penn) — but we have manfully carried out the proposed objects of our expedition as far as circumstances per- mitted. We have explored the wilderness, fished in the Black D 50 THE VIRGINIAN CANAAN. Fork of Cheat, seen the Falls of the Canaan, surfeited on trout, and braved the unpropitious elements unflinchingly. As for me, the impressions made by this sojourn will never be effaced — nev- er, though I were to live as long as the great hemlock felled by the mighty Dindon." The return to the settlements was unmarked by aijy incident worthy of record. Accustomed to the forest, hardened to the toil, the difficulties of the march passed as matters of course ; and an occasional unsuccessful shot at a deer, or the discovery of a bear's trail, only elicited a brief comment or a laugh. On the second day they breakfasted at Conway's, dined at Towers', and, twenty- four hours after, the heroes of the expedition into Canaan had re- sumed the dress, and, to all appearance, the habits of ordinary life. Yet, by a shrewd observer of character, they might still be distin- guished from the common herd. There was a certain gallant swagger when they walked abroad, a lighting-up of the face when they met each other, or when the subject of hunting and fishing was introduced ; an elevation of ideas, a largeness of speech, an ill-concealed disdain of the petty affairs of life, such as law, medi- cine, or agriculture ; and for a long time, whenever they were in- vited out, even the heavy-handed and profuse housekeepers of their neighborhood seemed to have suddenly become close and thrifty, or to have made some unaccountable mistake in their cal- culations. In the town of M were several returned Californians who had made the overland trip, dug gold and starved on the Yuba and Feather Rivers, and return- ed to their homes by the Horn or the Isthmus, with nothing to show for their trouble but a stock of hard-earned experience, and the hope of being heroes and story-tellers for the rest of their days. Alas ! they happened in an unlucky time. "Whenever one of them, thinking he had an au- OALIFOENIANS TnUMPEB. THE HEROES OF CANAAN. 51 dience in a bar-room or at a street corner, would commence in- fandum renovare dolorem, he was invariably trumped with, "Yes, that reminds me of the Blackwater ;" and in five minutes' time the poor Californian would stand mute and abashed at supposing that he had ever been hungry in his life, or had ever seen any thing worth talking about. THE ADVENTURES PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE ADYENTUEES OF POETE CRAYOI AID HIS COUSIIS. CHAPTER I. THE ADVENTUEERS. "Who loues to line at home, yet looke abroad, And know both passen and unpassen road, The wonders of a faire and goodlie land. Of antres, rivers, rocks, and mountaines grande, Bead this " Thomas Macaenesse. Miss Fanny Crayon had just finished reading the foregoing narrative to a brace of attentive and delighted cousins, when, throwing the book upon the table with a pouting air, she put forth the following reflections on men and things : "It is really neither generous nor just that men should arro- gate to themselves all the privileges, while we poor girls are con- demned to eternal needlework and housekeeping, or, what is still worse, a dull round of insipid amusements — dancing, dressing, and thrumming the piano. What opportunities have we of see- ing the world, or of making heroines of ourselves ? Instead of planning pleasant jaunts and inviting us to grace their parties, no sooner does the summer weather set in, than away they go with their guns, and such quantities of provision that one might think they were going to Oregon. Then in two or three weeks they are back again, with their clothes all torn and appetites that are a dis- grace to civilization. To see them at table, you would suppose they had eaten nothing during their absence ; and then such brag- ging all among themselves, they don't even give us a chance to talk ; and if occasionally we manage to slip in a word edgeways, 56 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. it receives no more consideration than the whistle of my Canary bird." " Indeed, Cousin Fanny," said Dora Dimple, " I think with you entirely. It would be so romantic and delightful for us to take such a trip. But then, with the rains and the wild animals, we should be so drenched and frightened." "Well! I want to be drenched and frightened!" replied Fan- ny, with spirit ; "I am tired of this humdrum life." "Good graciouth! what is to prevent uth from going if we choothe f lisped Miss Mignionette, or, as she was generally called for short, Minnie May. ' ' Let's make Porte Crayon take uth trav- eling or bear-hunting with him." "Pshaw !" replied Fanny, pettishly ; " Brother Porte used to be very kind and obliging, but of late he has become such a bear in his manners, and such a sloven, it's shameful ! You might really suppose, from his talk, that he thought women had no souls ; and as to listening to any thing they say — whew ! he's entirely too high for that. The fact is, he got to reading the Koran some few years ago, and I don't think he has been quite right since." "Nonsense! it's all affectation; he listens to me always," re- joined Minnie, with confidence ; ' ' and I'll go now directly and make him promise to take us somewhere. I can coax and flatter him into any thing." And, without more ado, she started on her embassy, while her companions followed on tiptoe to hear the result. Porte Crayon sat with his legs comfortably stretched on a bench in the veranda which shades the front of the family mansion. Aroused from an apparently deep reverie by the rustling of a silk dress, he acknowledged Cousin Minnie's presence with a nod, and his hard face lit up with a smile. "Cousin Porte," said she, abruptly, "we want you to take us somewhere." Mr. Crayon's only reply was a slight elevation of the eyebrows. "Yes," continued she, resolutely, "Fanny, Dora, and myself want you to take us traveling somewhere with you in search of adventures." Mr. Crayon's eyebrows disappeared under the visor of his cap, and his mouth puckered up as if about to whistle. "Indeed, Cousin Porte," continued Minnie, coaxingly, A PETITION. 57 seating herself beside him, "we've been reading the Blackwater Sketches, and we're all crazy to see some wild life. I don't mean exactly that we wish to live in the woods like gipsies, or be starved, or exposed to the rain or wild beasts, or — Indeed, I don't know precisely ivJiat we want, but you are so clever you may plan us a pleasant trip yourself. Besides, it would be such a privilege for us girls to have you as an escort — you are such a genius, you know. Come, you can't refuse ; it will be so delightful ; we won't give you a bit of trouble." Mr. Crayon's countenance had by this time relaxed considerably. " With any ordinary person we would not wish to go," pursued the embassadrice ; "but you know you are so talented, it would afford us such rare opportunities of im- provement." II -fr? m THE LISTENERS. At this point Crayon heard some giggling inside of the hall- 5g POKTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. door. " Stop, Minnie, that will answer ; I'm sufficiently buttered. Now just ask specifically for what you want." Minnie clapped her hands exultingly. "Come, girls, come; we've got him ; he has promised ; it's all arranged ! " Here the listeners made their appearance, and all three were so vociferous in their thanks that Crayon was fain to affect an air of sternness. "What's arranged? I've promised nothing." "Why, Cousin Porte, didn't you promise to take us a jaunt, and to plan it all yourself? Didn't he, Fanny ?" " I didn't hear precisely," said Fanny. "Didn't he, Dora?" "Indeed," replied Dora, "it seemed to me he did; or, at least, he was just going to promise, and that's the same thing." "To be sure," said Minnie. "Didn't you both hear him say, ' Just ask specifically for any thing you want, and I'll do it ?' " "Certainly," cried both girls, eagerly, "we heard him say 'spe- cifically.' We did indeed." "You did ! Then my case is a bad one. It is proved by three credible witnesses, supposed by courtesy to be sane and in theh right minds, that I said 'specifically;' and, being duly convicted of the same, it is in your judgments fairly deducible from the prem- ises that I promised to take you somewhere on a pleasure excur- sion. " There !" cried Minnie, " didn't I tell you ? Bless me ! what a lawyer Cousin Porte would have made if he had taken to the bar instead of the fine arts. But come on, girls ; let us go and get our traveling-dresses ready. Cousin Porte is the soul of hon- or; he never broke a promise, especially one made to a lady." And with the sweetest and most gracious courtesies the young ladies took their leave. "Begone, you pests, and leave me to reflect on the absurd scrape I've got into." A voice from the hall replied with a couplet from "Tom Bow- line :" " Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare." "Hum !" soliloquized Porte, reseating himself; "what the deuce PORTE CEAYON. 59 have I done ? Promised to take three women traveling. Ha ! ha ! they want to go to the Blackwater, do they ? ho ! ho ! by all that's preposterous! Kid slippers — lace collars — silk dresses! If the sun shines, they're broiling ; if the wind blows, they're freezing ; never hungry except when every thing eatable is out of their reach ; always dying of thirst when they're on top of a mountain ; afraid of caterpillars, and lizards, and grasshoppers ! Let me see ; the first of October ; snakes are about going into winter-quarters ; well, that's one comfort, at least. And then their baggage 1 Each of them, to my knowledge, has a trunk as big as a powder-car. Finikin, frivolous, whimsical creatures, where do they learn the art of coaxing ? They don't acquire it at all — it is a natural gift. If any man had approached me in that way, I should have felt bound to pull his nose ; but that little lisping minx makes me promise what she pleases. " ' 'Tis an old maxim of the schools, That flattery's the food of fools ; Yet now and then your men of wit Will condescend to take a bit.' No, no, it was not that — I'm too old for that — but it was a piece of the most barefaced wheedling and imposture, and now they're doubtless giggling over their success." Mr. Crayon shook for some minutes with silent laugbter, and it was long before his countenance settled into its accustomed gravity. While he is thus sitting, let us sketch him. In person Mr. Crayon is about the middle height, of slender make, but well knit and tough. His face is what would be usually termed " a hard one," angular and sunburnt, the lower features covered with a beard, bushy, and " Erode as though it were a spade." This beard he has worn from time immemorial. Old-fashioned ladies, who can't endure this savage taste, frequently tell Mr. Cray- on he would be remarkably handsome if he would cut off that hor- rid beard. He laughs, however, sotto i haffi,^ in such a manner as to encourage the delusion, and modestly disclaims any desire to be remarked for his personal beauty. Crayon is neither old nor young. g0 POKTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. " But on his forehead middle age Has slightly pressed its signet sage." His dress is usually so little a matter of concern to himself, that it is, in consequence, the oftentr remarked by others. At present his wardrobe in active service consists of a double-frilled shirt, a sack of Weidenfeldt's cut, stained corduroys, and a pair of string- less shoes, which exhibit to advantage his socks of gray yarn, darned with white and blue. This careless incongruity of dress is not altogether an eccentricity or individualism of Mr. Crayon, but belongs to the State to which he owes birth and allegiance. Nothing is more rare than to find a Virginian solicitous about his dress ; and although he may sometimes affect the sloven, he is never a dandy. An itinerant phrenologist, who had the faculty'of discovering the springs of human action by feeling the bumps on people's heads, ascertained, while traveling through the State, that this characteristic is the offspring of a noble aristocratic pride, a lofty disdain of trivialities ; and the candid expression of this opinion gave much individual as well as public satisfaction, and brought the shrewd man of science many a dollar. Indeed, in one instance we were personally cognizant of the dollar. A remarkably dirty gentleman of the legal profession, who, it was confidently believed, hadn't a second shirt to his back, borrowed a dollar of us to pay the aforesaid itinerant for saying the same of him and putting it in writing. But to be fully impressed with Crayon's personals^ he should be seen as he sometimes appears at a masquerade, in ruff and doublet, with a slouched hat and plume. One might then swear the great Captain John Smith had reappeared to look after his government, and ready, as of yore, to do battle with "Turk or salvage" — to thrust a falchion between the infidel ribs of Bonny- mulgro, or kick his royal highness, Opeckancanough, in face of his whole tribe, into the payment of the three hundred bushels of corn. We shrewdly suspect Crayon of nurturing a vanity on this subject, and have several times heard him allude to the resem- blance himself. While this sketching has been going on, our sitter has been WOMANS' EIGHTS. 61 deeply philosophizing. " Man," thought he, "occupies a queer po- sition in civilized society. By right of superior physical and in- tellectual endowment, by right of a direct appointment from Holy Writ, by the advice and consent of *St. Paul, he is lord of creation. But of what avail is his empty title ? He is practically no more than a nose of wax, to be modeled into any shape by women. What matters it whether he is tied with a hempen cord or a pink satin ribbon ? — he's tied. What difiference whether he is bullied out of his free agency or wheedled out of it ? — the tyranny is equally odious, equally subversive of social order and of self-re- spect. Man can't even wear the clothes he may happen to fancy" (here Crayon glanced at his coat). " Hunting-jackets have a row- dy look, so Miss Minnie thinks — chick-a-dee. These Yankees are a wonderful people, full of energy and resources. They regulate the women up there ; the men have the upper hand, as nature de- signed — at least I infer it, from the bobbery and noise the women are making there about their rights. Egad! I'll travel in that country some day to learn how they manage. But, after all," con- tinued Crayon, breaking into soliloquy, ' ' che giova ! siam nati a servir, we on the south side can't help ourselves, and we might as well put the best face on matters. It is not so unendurable, nei- ther, this bondage of the heart, nor yet so very unbecoming to a gentleman. In the days of chivalry it was the proudest boast of knighthood. What is it but the willing tribute from generosity to weakness? When a command comes disguised as a prayer, who would not obey ? When a beseeching look compels, who can resist 1 O fair Southern land, long may thy daughters continue to reign, strong in their gentleness, imperious in their loveliness !" Here Porte Crayon leaped from his seat as if electrified, and, clapping" his left hand to his side, with his right he drew an im- aginary glittering sword, and flourishing it about his head, went through the broadsword exercise in brilliant style. "Cousin Porte," cried a voice from the window, "what in the world are you doing ?" "Nothing in particular," replied Porte, looking rather sheepish. "Then don't do it any more. It looks too ridiculous for one of your age to be prancing and capering in that unmeaning way." g2 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. " Look you, Miss Minnie, mind your sewing, and don't be troub- ling yourself about my capers or my age. Ill pay her for this. I'll lead her into blackberry-thickets, stick her fast in marshes, and put lizards in her reticule. I'Utease and frighten her into a proper appreciation of herself. She need not then visit the capitals of Christendom to see by what small people the world is governed." During the week that followed Porte Crayon entered into the business of preparation for the proposed jaunt with alacrity and cheerfulness. He was in frequent consultation with the maps and Gazetteer of Virginia, and made copious notes therefrom, but was very silent and mysterious withal. " Where are you going to take us, Cousin Porte f Minrtie often inquired. "Never mind, child; stitch away at your traveling-dress; get yourself a pair of stout shoes, and don't ask me any more ques- tions." " I'm afraid Cousin Porte doesn't enjoy the idea of making this trip with us V modestly observed Dora. "Fiddlestick !" said Minnie, in an under tone ; "he's delight- ed. He has been in a fever ever since I proposed it to him. Just listen to his lectures, and make believe you appreciate them, and pretend to let him have his own way in every thing, and he's one of the kindest and most manageable creatures in existence." Crayon, who, with characteristic contempt of rule and order, was moulding bullets in the breakfast-room, looked up sharply. "What was that I heard about lectures, and good, manageable creature ?" " Eh ! good gracious ! did you hear ? I was just compliment- ing you to Dora, saying how kind you were. But, cousin, let me help you to cut the necks off those bullets: I can do it so nicely." "No; go along. You'll cut your fingers. I always am in a fever when I see a woman with a pen-knife in her hand." " Only hear ! the vanity of men !" and Minnie quietly took the ladle out of Mr. Crayon's hand, and proceeded in the most adroit and pretty manner to mould up the remainder of the lead. He looked on at first with amazement, which soon changed into unqualified admiration. PREPARATIONS. 63 "Doesn't lose a particle of lead; half of them have no necks at all. They are better than mine. Cousin Minnie, you're a won- der." BULLET-MAKING. The old carriage having been revarnished, and the roan and sor- rel sleeked up to the utmost point of good looks that the nature of the case permitted, Mr. Crayon reported to the impatient trio that on his part every thing was in readiness for the expedition with the exception of a driver. This important office had not yet been filled. Old Tom, Young Tom, Peter, and a dozen others, had successively been catechised, cross-questioned, and rejected. "And why won't they do ?" asked Fanny ; "they are all skill- ful drivers." " Tut, Fanny, you know nothing about it. They woiild answer very well to drive you to church, but the selection of a driver for such a trip as I have in view requires the greatest tact and con- sideration. Leave the matter entirely to me — ^" 64 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. "As the only person in the world who has the requisite tact and consideration," suggested Fanny. Crayon gracefully bowed assent. One morning a huge ne- gro made his appearance in the hall, accompanied by all the negro household, and all in a broad grin. "Sarvant, master," said the giant, saluting, hat in hand, with the grace of a hippopotamus. ' ' I'se a dri- ver, sir!" " Indeed !" said Porte, with some surprise ; "what is your name V ' ' Ke ! hi ! " snickered the applicant for office, and looked toward Old Tom. ' 'He's name Little Mice," said Tom, and there was a general laugh. "That is a queer name, at least, and not a very suit- able one. Has he no other ?" inquired Porte. "Why, d'ye see. Mass' Porte," said Tom, "when dis nigga was a boy, his ole miss tuck him in de house to sarve in de dinin'-room. Well, every day she look arter her pies an' cakes, an' dey done gone. 'Dis is onaccoun table,' say ole miss. 'Come here, boy. What goes wid dese pies V He says, ' I spec, missus, little mice eats 'em.' ' Very well,' says she, ' maybe dey does.' So one morn- in' arley she come in onexpected like, an' dar she see dis boy, pie in he's mouf. ' So,' says she, ' I cotch dem little mice at last, have I V An' from dat day, sir, dey call him nothin' but Little Mice, an' dat been so long dey done forgot his oder name, if he ever had any." The giant, during this narration, rolled his eyes at Old Tom, LITTLE MICE. LITTLE MICE. 65 and made menacing gestures in an underhand way ; but, being un- able to stop the story, he joined in the laugh that followed, and then took up the discourse. " Mass' Porte, never mind dat ole possum. Any how I ben a-drivin' bosses all my life, and I kin wait on a gemplum fuss rate. To be sure dat name sounds sort a foolish 'mong strangers ; but you can call me Boy, or Hoss, or Pomp, or any ting dat suits ; I answers all de same." Having exhibited a permit to hire himself. Crayon engaged him on the spot, moved thereto, we suspect, more by the fun and orig- inality indicated in Mice's humorous phiz than by any particular tact or consideration. The newly-appointed dignitary bowed him- self out of the hall, sweeping the floor with his cap at each rever- ence ; but no sooner was he clear of the respected precinct'than his OLD TOM AND YOUNG TOM. E QQ PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. elephantine pedals spontaneously commenced a grotesque dance, making a clatter on the kitchen floor like^a team of horses cross- ing a bridge. During this performance he shook his fists — in size and color like old hams of bacon — alternately at Old and Young Tom. "Ha, you ole turkey-buzzard! I take you in dar to re- commend me, an' you tell all dem lies. You want to drive your- self, heh 1 And you black calf, you sot up to drive gemplum's carriage, did you ? Mass' Porte too smart to have any sich 'bout him." Old Tom's indignation at this indecorous conduct knew no bounds. He pitched into Mice incontinently, and bestowed a shower of lusty cuffs and kicks upon his carcass. Tom's honest endeavors were so little appreciated that they only served to in- crease tKe monster's merriment. "Yah! yah! yah! lame grasshopper kick me," shouted he, es- caping from the kitchen ; and making a wry face at Tom through the window, he swung himself off toward the stable, "to look arter his critters." A couple of pipes, with some tobacco, and a cast-off coat, soothed the mortification of the senior and junior Toms to such an extent, that they were both seen next morning actually assisting Mice in getting out the carriage. CHAPTER II. JOURNEY TO WEYER'S CAVE. "SoMETHiNa new tinder the sun!" exclaimed Porte Crayon, on the morning of the 8th of October, 1853. "A new era is about to commence in the history of women. The carriage has scarcely driven up to the door when all three are ready, cap-a-pie^ to jump into it ! I thought the last wonder was achieved when they got all their baggage into one trunk and two carpet-bags ; but this latest development surpasses every thing that has gone before. Now fire away with your kissing and leave-taking, and let us be off." Considering the number of grandparents, fathers, mothers, broth- ers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, babies, etc., who had assembled to see the party off, and who had each and severally to give and receive from each and several of our travelers from one to half a dozen kisses, it will scarcely be credited that the carriage got fair- ly under way in something less than an hour from the time of its first appearance. But not so fast. "Stop ! stop !" screamed a dozen voices from the house. " Something important has been forgotten, surely." " Of course," said Porte Crayon. " Whose head is left behind ? Feel in your bonnets, girls." A negro girl is seen running after them with a large bundle in her arms, and holding up a great dumpling of a baby to the car- riage window. " Miss say you forgot to kiss little Mass' Bobby." " True ! it was an oversight. Kiss him, girls. And, hark ye! Molly, tell them at the house, if any one else has been omitted, to telegraph us at Winchester, and we'll come back." g3 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. " Bad to turn back now, Mass' Porte, specially sence Aunt Pat- ty done flung her shoe arter us for good luck." "Oh, if that ceremony has been performed, we must go on at all hazards," As the roan and sorrel patted the Winchester pike, making the stones ring again with their well-shod hoofs, plowman and way- farer turned aside to see, housewife and maiden hastened to the windows to stare and admire. Mark them well, good people, for it will be many a long day fere you look upon their like again. Little Mice was so sleeked and buttoned up that he did not ap- pear more than half his usual size ; but his hands, encased in a pair of buckskin gloves, which at a moderate computation would hold half a peck each, did not seem to have undergone a corre- sponding diminution. His head upon his ponderous shoulders looked no larger than a good-sized apple, and was surmounted by a tiny Dutch cap, the effect of which was to increase, in appear- ance, the disproportion between the head and shoulders. His lit- tle bead-like eyes twinkled with delight, while his broad lips were forcibly puckered into an expression of respectful gravity ; but, upon the slightest inattention on the part of their owner, and even in spite of his endeavors, occasionally they would relapse into their natural position — that of a bi-Oad grin. Beside this model of a driver and valet sat Porte Crayon — quite a secondary person- age, by the way — in a substantial suit of gray cassimere, a black oil-cloth cap, hunting belt, leathern gaiters, and a short German rifle, which usually hung upon the dash-board of the carriage. The three ladies occupied the interior. A spirited and accu- rate description of their dresses was promised the editor of these papers by one of the ladies ; but that having failed to appear, he excuses himself from attempting any thing of the sort on his own responsibility. Men are generally bunglers when they undertake to write upon subjects they know nothing about. That their cos- tumes were appropriate and becoming we can vouch, as also for the fact that they made them all with their own pretty hands during the week preceding their departure. Porte Crayon has drawn Fanny in a black velvet jacket and a skirt of blue mousse- line. Minnie he sketches in a dress of some lighter material, faSh- THE COUSINS. 69 ioned with a basque, and loose sleeves trimmed with ruffles. Dora wore a plain, close-fitting gown, with a row of buttons in front. All three had neat little straw bonnets, which they generally wore hanging on their shoulders, with the green veils attached to them streaming down their backs, thus giving the sun and wind a long- coveted opportunity of kissing their rosy cheeks at pleasure. Porte Crayon says this mode of wearing bonnets reminds him of a story told by some missionaries, who, zealous in the cause of civ- ilization, distributed among certain savage tribes a quantity of axes, mattocks, hoes, and spades. On revisiting their friends the following year, they found them promenading in all pomp and dig- nity with these useful and not at all cumbersome implements hung about their necks by thongs of deer-skin. Having disposed of the dresses and millinery, let us go on to the equally puzzling but far more agreeable task of picturing the ladies themselves. Fanny Crayon has a remarkable face. A nose slightly aqui- line, full chiseled lips, dark-blue eyes, dark brows, and fair hair. She is about the middle height, straight as an arrow, perfectly moulded, round and full, but active and graceful as a fawn. Her complexion is very fair, with cheeks of the richest rose. The char- acteristic expression of her face is earnest and serious, easily pro- voked to merriment, and not quite so easily provoked to wrath. In this we are aware she differs from most of her sex, and espe- cially from all heroines of love-stories. But she has, nevertheless, what the world calls a temper of her own. Those blue eyes of hers will sometimes flash, and the rose in her cheek so predomi- nate that the lily is entirely lost for a time. Well, well ! her na- tive spirit is so well regulated by good sense and good feeling that it rarely shows itself amiss. Fanny, at the age of five-and- twenty, is considered the most accomplished young woman of her neighborhood ; for, besides her skill in millinery and mantua-mak- ing, she is already a famous housekeeper. Every thing goes on like clock-work under her management, and she not unfrequently condescends to do up the more elegant branches of this depart- ment with her own hands. It happens sometimes during the mince-pie season that Fanny 70 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE VIRGINIA HOUSEKEEPER. enters the kitchen with an apron white as morning's milk, and her sleeves tucked up, showing a pair of arms scarcely less fair. Old Tom rises at her entrance, respectfully knocks the fire out of his pipe, and lays it in its niche in the chimney. Aunt Dilly, chief cook, and her daughter Jane, first scullion, stand on either side, attentive to the slightest sign. "Tray, Jane," says the obsequi- ous Dilly. " Flour, Miss — rollin'-pin. Miss — butter — mince-meat — brandy." The pie approaches completion. Jane holds her breath in admiration. The chief cook looks on in proud humil- ity — proud of serving such a mistress, humble at seeing herself outdone by one of only half her age, and, sooth to say, not more than one third of her weight. The great bowl of egg-nog that foams at Christmas is of Fanny's brewage ; and, when she does condescend, as she occasionally does, by way of special favor to somebody, to try her hand on a mint-julep, it is said to be un- rivaled. The walls of the paternal mansion were once ornamented with neatly-framed specimens of her skill in drawing and painting. There were kittens, and squirrels, and birds, and baskets of flow- ers, as an old aunt used to say, "as natural as life, and all drawn out of her own head." "When Porte came home from abroad he THE COUSINS. 71 was thoughtless enough to laugh at them, whereupon Panny qui- etly took them down and hid them ; nor have the united entreat- ies of the family, nor repeated apologies from Porte, nor Uncle Nat's express commands, ever been potent enough to induce her to replace them. "When Fanny dances (she never waltzed or pol- ka'd), or when she rides on horseback, the negroes all declare "it is a sight to see her ;" and when one of them wishes to compliment his dark-browed inamorata for her performance in a husking-reel or a kitchen hoe-down, he tells her she moves like Miss Fanny. But of all Fanny's accomplishments, none is so universally prized by her friends as her music, " And of hire song, it is as loud and yerne As any swallow sitting on a berne." Then such a store of good old-fashioned songs ! she could sing for a week without ever repeating a stanza. At one time Porte un- dertook to teach her some French and Italian airs, and found an apt and willing pupil ; but Uncle Nat positively forbade her sing- ing the foreign trash, insisting that it Avould spoil her voice and vitiate her taste. Beside Fanny sat Minnie May, with a shower of rich golden curls, and cheeks as smooth and delicately-tinted as the lips of a sea-shell, with a slight but elastic figure, and hands so small that she never could reach an octave on the piano, and consequently never learned music. Whether she would have learned if she had been able to accomplish the octave is a problem that will never be solved, for she is nineteen years old, and her hands are not likely to grow any bigger. Indeed, Minnie is not accomplished, as the world goes, for she can't sing except a little in concert, and is equally unskillful in fitting a dress or compounding a pudding. If she reads much she seems little the wiser for it, for most prob- ably romances and poetry receive the principal part of her atten- tion. Her character is an odd compound of archness and naive- te, of espi^glerie and sweetness. If she can't sing, her voice in conversation is like the warble of a blue-bird, in addition to which she lisps most charmingly. Unpretending and child-like in her manners, she has a quick and original wit, and reads character by intuition. To this power, probably, and to some pretty coaxing 72 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. ways, she»owes the unbounded influence she exercises over every one about her. Even Porte's proverbial obstinacy is not proof against it. He flounders and fumes like a bumble-bee stuck fast in molasses, and is sometimes heard ungallantly to wish her to the deuce; "for," says he, "when she is about, I can't even choose what coat I may wear." Little Mice already begins to own her sway, when, in reply to some disparaging comments on the horses, he obsequiously takes off his rag of a cap and gently defends his cattle. "Ah! young Mistis, some bosses is naterelly lean dat way. Now dat roan eats my two gloves full of oats every time, but he's ribs always shows ; dis sorrel, he put up different ; can't count he's ribs indeed I Gin I has dese creeters in my hands a week, dey'll shine; mind dat, Mistis." Dora Dimple was a sweet little body, with round, innocent eyes, which were, in truth, the windows of her soul, and she blushed when any one looked therein. The roses in her cheeks were ever blooming, and, when freshened by exercise or sudden excitement, they had a tendency to turn purple. Dora was but seventeen, quiet, modest, and sweet-tempered, and it never seemed to have en- tered her head that she lived for any thing else than to please every body and do as she was bid, like the good little girls in the Sunday-school books. As they trotted along, chattering, giggling, and singing to the accompaniment of the wheels, no wonder that Crayon frequently looked back at his wards, and thought to himself, "After all, this looks as well as going out to the Blackwater. ' I dare say we'll have a merry time !" No wonder that Mice, with a superb flour- ish of his whip, observed, " Mass' Porte, dis is a very light-runnin' instrument ; seems as if it would run along of itself." The pleasant and hospitable town of Winchester, with its pol- ished society, its flower-gardens, and famous market, savored' too much of ordinary civilization to detain a party in search of the romantic and wonderful longer than Avas necessary to obtain the requisite supply of food and sleep. It was here that Porte Cray- on first exhibited a programme of the proposed trip, which was received with such manifestations of approval and delight that he felt himself highly flattered. But our narrative must not lag by THE TURNPIKE. 73 the way. Whip up, Mice ! up the Valley turnpike as fast as the horses can trot on a bright frosty morning. At midday the light- running vehicle, with its light-hearted inmates, was rapidly ap- proaching the Massanutten Mountains. These mountains rise to a majestic height in the midst of the valley between the forks of the Shenandoah River, and about twenty miles south of Winches- ter. They lie principally in the counties of Page and Shenan- doah, and the Eastern Massanutten forms the boundary between the two counties. They are parallel with the Blue Ridge, and run in a double range for some twenty-five or thirty miles, and then in a single range for about the same distance, terminating in Rockingham county as abruptly as they risd The double range includes a romantic and fertile valley twenty-five miles long and about three in width, the level of which is several hundred feet above the Great Valley, and which is entered from the north at the Fortsmouth, one of the jnost famous passes in the Vii'ginia mountains. THE FORTSMOUTH. A midday lunch under* the shade of some maples, the fording of the crystal river, and the approach to this imposing pass, kept 74 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. the animal spirits and the expectant fancies of our adventurers keenly on the alert. Soon they were winding along the ba,nks of a rushing stream, and there scarcely seemed room between its rug- ged borders and the impending cliflfs for a narrow carriage-way As they advanced they perceived the mountain barriers rising on either side, like perpendicular walls, to a stupendous height — the road and stream still crowding each other as they struggled along, and the gloom of the wild defile deepened by a tall growth of shadowy hemlocks. As the difficulties increased, ovir friends were fain to leave the toiling carriage to its assiduous and careful gov- ernor, and bravely take to the road afoot. How wild it was ! how fresh and beautiful ! The joyous stream seemed rushing to meet them with a free, noisy welcome, wimpling and dimpling, tumbling in tiny waterfalls into deep pools which sparkled with foam and bubbles. The girls, like wood-nymphs, ran here and there, gathering the rich and varied plants of the mountains, and such flowers as had survived the early frosts of autumn ; while Porte Crayon, in the advance, regardless of the probabilities of game, the rifle at his back, or nerves of his fair companions, rent the air with shouts that made the mountains answer again and again. Perceiving at length that he was getting a little hoarse, his enthusiasm abated, and he left ofi". The stream crossed and recrossed their path so often that Minnie declared it was some spiteful Undine, who, in wanton mischief, was striving to detain them. "Not so. Cousin Minnie ; but, rather, the water-sprite has seen something genial in your eyes, and meets you at every turn with the hope of beguiling you to stay and be her playmate." But neither hinderance nor persuasion availed any thing. Here by a rustic bridge, there by an opportune drift-log, and, where neither lent their aid, by resolutely skipping from rock to rock, they kept on their way, Porte leading the troop, encouraging and giving di- rections, applauding each successful venture, and laughing loud when some unlucky foot dipped ankle-deep into the water. At the end of an hour's walk, and about two miles from the mouth of the defile, they found themselvel fairly in the Valley of Pow- ell's Fort, and here — the road becoming more practicable — they again betook themselves to their carriage. Porte Crayon could not BUHNER'S. 75 refrain from casting many regretful looks behind him. "What pictures !" sighed he ; "what sketches ! But we can't have every thing. Burner's is yet full twelve miles distant, and we must reach there to-night by the programme. " Vite! vite, conducteur f "Ya — as, sir," replied the obsequi- ous coachman, looking somewhat bewildered, but licking it into the horses all the while. As they went on winding their toilsome way around the spurs of the mountain, a gorgeous sunset began to work its magic changes upon the extended landscape. But the sunset faded into twilight, and the twilight deepened into dark- ness before they reached their destination. Here a hospitable welcome, a blazing fire, and a keenly-appreciated supper were fol- lowed by a deep, unbroken sleep of some ten hours' duration. burner's. Burner's Sulphur Springs, or, as they are sometimes more prop- erly called. The Seven Fountains, are, apart from their beautiful surroundings, worthy objects of scientific curiosity. In a small bowl-like hollow, and within a circle whose radius is probably not more than a dozen paces, are these seven fountains, all differing in character. The central spring is a fine white sulphur ; within a few feet are two other sulphurs, differing in temperature and chemical analysis. A few paces distant are Freestone, Slate, and Limestone Springs, each decided and unmistakable of its kind. The seventh is called the "Willow Spring, but we do not know what are its virtues and qualities. 76 POKTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. Our friends took to the open air while the frost was yet spark- ling on the ground, and, after ranging the hill sides until the girls were tired. Crayon determined to amuse himself making a sketch of Mr. Burner's premises. Having chosen his point of view on an open hill side, he found himself much annoyed by a brilliant sun which took him directly in the face. The girls, seeing his dif- ficulty, with prompt ingenuity spread their broad shawls over some leafless bushes, and thus contrived, in a few minutes, a per- fect shade and a highly-picturesque canopy. This unexpected and graceful service awakened in Crayon that grateful surprise which the Lion must have felt when delivered from the toils of the hunt- er by the Mouse. He laid down his sketch-book deliberately. THE CANOPY. "Ton my soul, girls, this is enchanting ! I'm really beginning to think that women are not such useless creatures, after all." "How delicately he compliments!" said Minnie; "no coarse flattery— not he. It requires a shrewd refinement to extract the A BEAR. 77 honey from the flower. Isn't it worth while, girls, to make can- opies, just to hear Cousin Porte speak so encouragingly of us V In the afternoon, the party, including Mice, went hunting, and, although they found some game, Portfe Crayon, either from dis- traction, or over-anxiety to exhibit his address with the rifle, miss- ed every thing he shot at. Minnie at length began to grow quiz- zical ; at every shot she insisted that the birds were hit ; she saw the feathers fly; hinted that the powder might be bad, or the sights accidentally knocked out of place. In all this she was earn- estly seconded by Mice, who ran, like an over-anxious pointer, at every crack, to pick up the game. ^Finding nothing, he looked much perplexed and mortified, and finally suggested that the gun was bewitched ; he had seen an old black woman looking at it very hard that morning before the party were up. The girls got into a titter, and Crayon bit his lips, but said nothing. A pheas- ant, a squirrel, and a couple of crows had already heard his bul- lets whistle by their ears, and had gone off in great alarm. Pres- ently a fine rabbit sprung up, and after running about fifty yards, stood up to see who was coming. Porte took deliberate aim and fired, the rabbit disappeared, and every body but the rifleman ran to find him. On examining the spot they could see nothing ; but Minnie, having slyly gathered half a dozen wild turkey feathers, which she found in the thicket, showed them triumphantly, ex- claiming, " There ! I was sure he was hit ; look at the feathers." Crayon quietly reloaded his piece, and commenced looking about for a lizard. Although this search was unsuccessful, he did not wait long for his revenge. As they neared the edge of the wood, a large black animal suddenly stepped out of a thicket. "Heav- ens!" cried he, whipping out his knife, "a bear !" A trio of shrieks echoed through the forest, and Porte sudden- ly found himself bound neck and hands by three pair of desperate arms. ' ' Don't — don't choke me to death, " he gurgled. ' ' Help, Mice ! " ' ' Why, Mistisses, " said Mice, earnestly, ' ' dat ain't no bar. Mass' Porte jis foolin'." "Pshaw!" said Minnie, "it's only a great black ram. Oh, Porte, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" 78 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE BEAR. "Indeed," said Fanny, recovering herself, "I do wish it had been a bear. Such an adventure ! " "Ke, he! I 'specs. Miss, if he was a sure-enough bar, den you wish he was a sheep agin." After this excitement, the ladies looked nervous and fatigued, and requested Porte to conduct them home by the nearest route. Like a wise man, he enjoyed his triumph moderately. He was uncommonly good-humored and politfe during the rest of the even- ing, and was contented that no farther allusion was ever made to the shooting of that day. In passing from Burner's to Woodstock — six miles distant — on the western descent of the Massanutten Mountain, our travelers were delighted with a magnificent view of the county of Shenan- doah, which lay as it were a map spread out at their feet, checker- ed with field and woodland, dotted with villages and farm-houses, and watered by the north fork of the Shenandoah Kiver, which A VIRGINIAN LANDLORD. 79 glistened in its doublings and windings like a silver serpent, in- closing many a fair and fertile meadow in its beneficent folds. As for the town of Woodstock, it doubtless has, like many other little towns in Virginia, the merits of a singed cat, that of being much better than it looks. At any rate, our travelers did not tar- ry long enough to appreciate it, but, finding themselves once more upon the turnpike, pushed on rapidly. At noon they stopped as usual to refresh. At Crayon's request to serve something cold and without delay, the landlord looked considerably perplexed. After some circumlocution, however, he frankly acknowledged that there was nothing in the house — neither bread, nor meat, nor veg- etables. "We had a fine dinner. Sir," said Boniface, apologetically; "but the stage-passengers were so delighted with it they left nothing. It was a splendid dinner, Sir, if your party had only got in before the stage." Crayon felt his curiosity piqued. "What had you?" "A squirrel pie," said Boniface, rubbing his hands; "a squir- rel pie, and-er-ah a fine squirrel pie. The fact is, stranger, my old woman is sick, or I wouldn't have been caught in this fix. You know young women ain't of no account anyhow." This coincidence of opinion soothed Crayon's disappointment, and the party good-humoredly lunched on ham and sugar-cakes, which they found in their carriage-box, and went on their way re- joicing. CHAPTER III. WEYEE'S CAVE. Following the valley road, they passed the night at New Mar- ket, and dined on the next day at Harrisonburg, the county town of Kockingham. One mile south of this place they left the turn- pike, and drove twelve or thirteen miles, over a pleasant country road, to Port Republic, a forlorn village on the Shenandoah, whose only claim to notoriety is the fact that it is only three miles from Weyer's Cave. "There, girls!" exclaimed Porte Crayon, pointing to a hill which rose abruptly from the broad meadow lands skirting the river, "there is Cave Hill!" This news caused quite a flutter among the inmates of the car- riage, and furnished a subject of animated conversation, until they drove up to a neat-looking country house at the foot of the hill. The prompt landlord met them at the gate with a cheerful wel- come, and the interior of Mr. Moler's house proved as agreeable and well-ordered as the outside was neat and attractive. "Will you visit the cave to-night, ladies'?" inquired the host. "To-night!" exclaimed Fanny, taken by surprise. "Oh yes," lisped Minnie, "by all means; we have the full moon now, and it would be charming to visit it by moonlight. It shows to greater advantage" — turning to Mr. Moler — "doesn't it, sir?" "Why, Minnie!" cried Dora, her eyes resembling moons in miniature, "the moon doesn't shine in there. Does it, Cousin Porte?" " Good gracious ! I forgot ! the idea of going in at all confuses ine so. Then the thought of a place where the moon don't shine, nor the sun — it's horrible ! It never struck me before !" FOREBODINGS. gl The girls all became thoughtful, and it required no persuasion to induce them to defer the proposed visit until the morrow. When they met again next morning around an early breakfast- table they seemed still more dispirited. They had had wonderful dreams, and the anticipated visit to the cave had begun to work terribly on their feminine fancies. Porte Crayon's countenance was austere and his manner mysterious, as if something of vast importance was about to be transacted. The proprietor looked grave, and exchanged meaning glances with Mr. Crayon, and their conversation was carried on in broken sentences of hidden mean- ings — dark hints, suggestive of nameless dangers and terrible things. "I declare, this is dreadful! I won't go into such a horrible place ! I wish to heaven I was at home ! " exclaimed Minnie. " Only to think," chimed Dora, "there are ladders to go down 1" "And," said Fanny, entirely forgetting the heroine, "dreadful bridges to cross, w;ith awful pits on each side!" "And," pursued Minnie, "all down, deep under ground, where the moon doesn't shine ! " " Nor the sun," suggested Dora. "Oh ! we've traveled a hund- red miles to see the cave, and now we'd go two hundred to escape." Crayon here assumed a heroic tone and attitude. "It is too late, young ladies, too late to look back now. What would they say of us at home ? Our memories will be covered with everlast- ing shame if any one of us fails to reach the uttermost limit of the cave. You, Fanny, that would be a heroine ! Yoii, Minnie, that wished to see a bear ! You, Dora, that would go any Avhere if Cousin Porte would only give you his arm] Pm ashamed of you. You're no better than a parcel of women !" "Come on, girls," said Fanny, stoutly; "this is all nonsense. I'll go in, I'm determined, and I'll go first!" Fanny looked, and doubtless felt, very much like the Maid of Saragossa, when she was about to mount the fearful rampart. "I'll go too," said Minnie, "until we come to the creeping-place ; but I vow I will never creep under ground like a mole." "And I," said Dora, "will go until we come to the ladders. Dear, dear, how my heart beats !" F 82 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. LEONARD MOLER, THE GUIDE. ENTRANCE TO WETEB'S CAVE Although Mr. Moler has some time since surrendered the office of guide to his son, a likely and intelligent lad, thirteen or four- teen years of age, he on this occa- sion agreed to resume it, in spe- cial compliment to the party. His appearance, enveloped in a long, shroud-like gown — origin- ally white, but now stained to a brick-dust red by frequent explo- rations of his subterranean do- main — a slouched hat, and a great key in his hand, seemed likely to dksh again the reviving courage of the ladies. But Crayon ener- getically interfered. " Hush ! ev- ery one of you. You'll talk each other into hysterics in five minutes. Forward — march!" A brisk walk of half a mile, partly along the picturesque banks of the Shenandoah, and part- ly ascending a steep zig- zag path, brought them to a small wood«n build- ing set against a rock in the side of the hill. The key grated in the lock, and the bolt sprung back with a hol- low sound. With what sensations of mysteri- ous awe, with what sink- ings of heart, with what ENTRANCE TO THE CAVE. 33 wild gushing fancies their young heads teemed as they crossed the threshold of that dark doorway, can never be known or written, for few words were spoken, and those only such as were necessary for the preparation. Bonnets were discarded, and their places supplied by handkerchiefs ; long skirts were tucked up, and light shawls selected from the contents of the knapsack which had been packed and brought up for the purpose. Meanwhile the guide lit the candles, and gallantly handed to each the tin shade which held the light. Porte Crayon stood in a corner of the room, his scoffing tongue was silent, and perhaps there may have been a shade of sadness on his face — but no one saw it. Twenty years before he had stood upon that same spot. How the retrospect of years will fill the soul with strange, unmeaning regrets, unde- fined, but deep. "Twenty years, twenty years! I was then a pale-faced, beardless boy, with a fancy fresh and untrammeled as theirs who stand now so serious, irresolute, and tremulous upon the threshold of this world of wonders, looking, indeed, as if they read upon the stone archway the fearful legend of the infernal portals : " ' Voi ch' entrate lasciate ogni speranza.' " The guide moved on, and our friends followed in single file, Crayon bringing up the rear. Passing through the dark throat of the cavern, a somewhat straitened passage, and down an easy descent for a short distance, they reached a level flooring and more roomy passway. As they advanced it grew still wider, and anon groups of white shadowy figures seemed starting from the palpable darkness. Fanny stopped short, while Minnie and Dora grasped Porte's arms convulsively, trembling like aspens. "What are they?" The guide advanced, and turned his triple light upon the groups. ' ' This is the Hall of Statuary. " "How strange! How wild! How wonderful! It reminds me," said Crayon, "of the galleries of the Vatican by torch-light." On a nearer approach, the statues were seen to be but grotesque and shapeless stalagmites, more resembling petrified stumps than any thing else. Above them was a circular opening in the ceil- ing fifteen feet in diameter, fringed with sparkling stalactites. 84 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE HALL OF STATUARY. Through this opening was seen the interior of a dome, some thirty feet in height, draped and columned gorgeously. On one side was the similitude of an altar, with curtains and candlesticks upon it, and, on the other, it required but a little liveliness of fancy to see a cathedral organ, with its rows of pipes and pendent cornices. The guide withdrew the lights with which the dome had been il- luminated, and resumed his march forward through a narrow pas- sage and down a rude flight of some eighteen or twenty steps into a room of considerable extent. "Now stand here; throw your lights forward, and look up. The Cataract!" A stream seemed to leap from a great height, pouring its white waters in sheets of foam over a broken ledge of rock, and tum- bling down to the feet of the amazed spectators. They held their THE CATARACT. 85 THE CATARACT. breath as if listening to catch the roar of the waterfall, but not a murmur broke the death-like silence. " The cataract, that like a giant wroth Kushed down impetuously, as seized at once 3g PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. By sudden frost, with all his hoary locks Stood stiU." As they gazed, feelings of awe came creeping over them, taking the place of admiration. The whole scene was so unearthly. " Now you have but to face about upon the ground where you stand to illuminate a scene of an entirely different character, and suggestive of a different class of fancies." Less imposing, less sublime, but excelling in beauty and splen- dor, a massive column of sparkling white, rich with complicated grooves and flutings, appeared rising from floor to roof. Around and half in shade were other columns of less striking form and color, supporting the ribbed and fretted ceiling. This glittered far and near with snow-white and sparkling stalactites, now richly fringing the stone roof-ribs, now hanging in dense masses, cover- ing the spaces between. The richest arabesques of a Persian pal- ace, or the regal halls of the far-famed Alhambra, are but poor and mean in comparison. iDoubt and terror were all forgotten. The girls were wild with wonder and delight. "'Tis the work of fairies !" exclaimed Fanny. "Or the enchanted palace of some magician," said Minnie. "Oh dear!" said Dora, "they look like beds of silver radishes, all growing through the earth with their roots hanging down." "And there," said Fanny, "is a round waiter of frosted silver, half filled with beautiful shells." "And here," said the guide, "is something we must not over- look. "What does that look like ?" he inquired, directing their at- tention to an angular nook. "As I live," exclaimed Fanny, promptly, "there is a great shoulder of mutton hanging on the wall ! " "I perceive," said the guide, pleasantly, "that the young lady knows something of housekeeping. This fine room is called Sol- omon's Temple, and this corner, for the sake of consistency, is Sol- omon's Meat House." "I should have thought," said Porte Crayon, "that the mag- nificent and all-accomplished Solomon would hardly have com- mitted such a crime against good taste as to hang his meat in such a temple as this." THE TEMPLE AND CATHEDEAL. 87 SOLOMON S TEMPLE. "And yet," replied the guide, "a greater than Solomon placed it there." "True, true. In the midst of her sublimest passages, Nature will sometimes step aside to play the farceur.'''' Ascending a stairway similar to that by which they entered, and on the opposite side of the Temple, our travelers pursued their marvelous journey, not in profound silence, as at first, for the sen- timent that paralyzed their tongues had given place to pleasant confidence and eager curiosity. Again they call a halt, while the guide nimbly leaps from point to point, illuminating, as he goes, the wonders of the Cathedral. In the centre of this room hangs a mass of spar which bears*- a fancied resemblance to a chandelier, while beyond it rises the pul- pit, an elevated circular desk covered with the most graceful folds of white drapery. On the opposite side is a baldachin, enriched with glittering pendent crystals, and the whole ceiling is hung 88 PORTE CEATON AND HIS COUSINS. THE CATHEDRAL. with stalactites, dropping in long points and broad wavy sheets, some of a pure white, others of a clay red, bordered with bands of white, or with darker stripes of red and brown. These stone draperies are translucent and sonorous, emitting soft musical tones on being struck ; and the heavier sheets which tapestry the side- walls respond to the blows of the hand or foot with notes like deep-toned bells. "With interest and confidence increasing at every step, our ad- venturers went on ; not caring who was before or who behind, they climbed up and down ladders, crept through narrow passages, and looked fearlessly down into the awful pits that yawned beside the way, passing through many apartments which, if found iso- lated, might have been accounted among the wonders of the worldj but here, being secondary in interest and brilliancy, were hastily viewed and left behind. The largest of these is called the Ball- room, from the fact that its 'hard clay floor, a hundred feet by forty JACOB'S LADDER. gg in extent, served indifferently for dancing, at times when the cave was illuminated and visited by large numbers of persons, as was formerly the custom in the months of August and September. These annual illuminations have been discontinued by the propri- etor, because the smoke from so large a number of candles sullied the purity of the sparry incrustations, and visitors not unfrequent- ly, taking advantage of the license which prevailed, would break and carry off whatever of the curious and beautiful , they found within their reach. Another room of smaller size, called the Senate Chamber, is re- markable for a broad gallery projecting midway between the ceil- ing and the floor, and corniced with stalactites like the icicles that fringe the eaves on a winter's morning. At length they came to a passage so straitened that it required some management and some creeping on all fours to get through. This accomplished, they went dojvn a steep, narrow stairway of fifteen or twenty feet descent. This stairway is called Jacob's Ladder. A square rock, covered with an incrustation resembling a table-cloth, is called Jacob's Tea-table, and an ugly-looking pit near at hand is Jacob's Ice-house. By a peculiar twinkle of Porte Crayon's eye, any one who knew him might perceive that he was about to indulge in some comments on this whimsical collection of property accredited to the Patriarch ; but what he intended to say was lost forever to the world by a sudden signal from the guide. "Hist! be silent for a moment. I hear an unusual noise be- hind us. There must be some one in the cave besides ourselves. Listen!" "Yes! yes!" they all heard something, not like voices in con^ versation, but half stifled grunts and groans. Now it approaches nearer still, accompanied by a sputtering and scratching like the noise of a cat in a cupboard. "It is coming through the narrow passage. "What can it bef "Possibly some animal that has taken refuge in the cave, and is following the lights." " Oh mercy !" twittered Dora ; " perhaps a bear !" At this awful suggestion the girls huddledtogether like a covey of partridges. • 90 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. *LK FANTOME NOIR." "Stand off!" said Porte Crayon, fiercely, feeling for his knife. "Don't take hold of me." The knife had been left behind. What was to be done ? All kept their eyes intently fixed on the mouth of the narrow passage. Presently a huge hand, holding a dim candle, protruded from the aperture. A hand without an owner has always been an object of terror since the times of Bel- shazzar. It was evidently not a bear ; and the fears of the par- ty, relieved on the score of a ma- terial enemy, began to turn to- ward the immaterial. They stood speechless and aghast, staring at that awful, superhuman hand. Soon, however, the phiz of Little Mice appeared to claim the prop- erty, but all ashen with terror and red with mud. '■'• Parturiunt monies, nascitur ridiculus mus,'''' said Crayon, curtly. "It will be a nasty ridiculous muss," said the guide, "if he should stick fast." It was for some moments doubtful whether the body could fol- low the arm and head ; but Mice, having marked the lights, and recognized the laughter which greeted his appearance, gave a Ti- tanic heave, as if he would lift the roof off the cave, and broke through, sacrificing his coat, and at the imminent risk of upset- ting Jacob's Tea-table. "Master and Mistis, are you da? ugh — ugh I Oh Lord! dis is a mizzible place !" The narrow ladder scarcely afforded room for Mice's enormous shoes, and in his haste to join his protectors he was near tum- bling over the parapet. "A very narrer lat"her," said he, half soliloquizing. By this time the group below was shaking with laughter. "Oh, Mistis," said Mice, devoutly, "now I believes dere is a torment, sence I seen dis place." THE GEEAT HALL. 91 "What, in the name of torment, induced you to venture in here alone, you inconceivable blockhead V ' ' Why, Mass' Porte, you see, I hearn you was all gone in, an' I thinks any wha' de young missusses can go I can go too. Den when I come in a piece it git so dark and lonesome I begin to git feard-like. Den I seen sich things standin' about, and J hearn things like big bells. I think den I gwine right straight down below. Ugh ! it was mizzible. I am glad I found you, sure enough." And, during the rest of the exploration, Mice stuck closer to his master than his sense of respect would have permitted any where on the earth's surface. If the first chambers through which they passed excelled in the rich profusion and brilliancy of their ornaments, they are thrown far in the background by the superior grandeur and sublimity of those apartments which our adventur- ers are now entering, and which, like the scenes of a well-arranged drama, go on increasing in interest and mag- nificence to the end. Now they group themselves at the entrance of the Great Hall. • Good Mr. Moler, permit us to drop your puerile and inappropriate nomen- clature, and let fancy run riot." The complaisant guide bows, and \\ ill >- on -sMth botli hands full of lights. At ev- ery step strange and beautiful ob- jects flash into being. Pillared walls, hung with long, sweeping folds of tapestry; banners flaunt- ing from over- jAcoB's LADDER hauging galler- 92 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. ies ; canopied niches filled with shadowy sculpture ; the groined and vaulted ceiling dimly appearing at a majestic height, and long pendents dropping from out of the thick darkness that the feeble torches can not penetrate. Then the white, startling giant, which imposes so completely on the senses that it is difficult to conceive it was not sculptured by the hand of man, and pedestaled where it stands, precisely in the centre of the Hall. Then the weird towers that rise beyond on either side, so draped and fluted, whose tops are lost in the upper gloom. This must be the Palace of the King of the Gnomes, and the gigantic figure there is his seneschal. ' V II .-^ m THE GNOME KINg's PALACE. " Girls, you are not afraid of him ? Let us advance and send our compliments to his swart majesty. Now this looks like hos- pitality. Here is a clear, dripping fountain, and, as I live, a glass tumbler to drink from." THE ENCHANTED MOORS. 93 " I wonder," said Minnie, " if the seneschal put the glass here T "It looks like Wheeling glass," said Fanny ; "and it is more prob- able Mr. Moler put it here, I dare say by the seneschal's orders." " How strange ! " said Dora. " On examination, it no longer re- sembles a statue, but a great shapeless stalagmite, and it looks more terrible even than at first." "True," quoth Minnie; " ' 'Tis like some Bedlam statuary's dream, The crazed creation of misguided whim.' " They pass on by the statue and the towers, but before leaving the Hall turn to observe some candles which had been left burn- ing at the other extremity. The distance appears immense ; by actual measurement it is two hundred and sixty feet. Still other rooms, whose ceilings reach the imposing height of ninety or a hundred feet, and this last is the grandest of them all. It is the nave of some vast Gothic cathedral, which has been ingulfed by an earthquake, and lies buried half in ruin. "It recalls to me," said Minnie, "a Moorish legend: how that in the caverns of Granada ten thousand Moorish knights, armed c-ap-a-pie^ were shut up by enchantment, and stand like statues of stone awaiting the hour of their deliverance. Look at them, Porte ; do they not resemble Moorish knights, all in linked mail, with their long cloaks and pointed helmets ?" " Bravo, Minnie ! well fancied; and there in the distance is the throne, where sits the unhappy Boabdil, stern and solemn, awaiting but the touch of this talisman to step down among us. Here, Minnie, take this seal ring, and go touch his hand!" " Oh, Porte ! put it up. I would not touch one of them for the world. I've fancied until I half believe what we've been talk- ing about." At the extremity of this long aisle, where the ceiling is ninet} feet in height, stands the largest detached mass of concretion to be found in the cave. It is shaped like a tower, an oval thirty by thirty-six feet in diameter, and thirty or forty feet in height. Its surface is covered with irregular horizontal ridges and with per- pendicular plaits or flutings — a style of enrichment which might be introduced advantageously in some kinds of architecture. On 94 PORTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE ENCHANTED MOORS, one side a sheet of drapery falls from the top of the tower nearly to its base, in folds that a sculptor might imitate but could never excel. After wandering for half a mile through these subterra- nean halls, where Nature has poured out, "with such a full and THE BRIDAL CHAMBER. 95 THE OYSTER-SHELL. unwitlidrawing hand," her mingled stores of the beautiful, the fantastic, the awful, the sublime, you seem here to have reached the culminating point of grandeur. Then turn an angle of the rock and advance a few paces, when your lights flash upon the gaping oyster-shell. "From the sublime to the ri- diculous there is but one step," said Porte Crayon. "What an absurd freak ! " Mice examined the premises with such minuteness that one might have supposed he was look- ing for the oyster. ' ' High ! " said he ; "it must a took a monstus man to a-swallered it. But I be- lieves in any thing now, sence I seen dis place." Here they were informed they had reached the end of the cave ; and, having refreshed themselves with water dipped from an alabaster fountain, covered by a trans- parent pellicle of spar, they resumed their lights, and commenced retracing their steps toward the realms of day. On their return they deviated from the course by which they had entered, and visited several side rooms, each exhibiting some new phase of beauty, grandeur, or surprise. The Bridal Cham- ber, on your first entrance, appears but a gloomy vault of naked limestone, until the light, like a magic talisman, reveals one of the most curious arid beautiful objects in the cave. It resembles a sheet of white drapery thrown over a gigantic round buckler, and falling in classic folds nearlyjo the ground. Some ingenious per- son has fancied that it looked like a bride's veil hanging over a monstrous Spanish comb, and hence the name of the room. Porte Crayon and bis companions were dissatisfied with the name, and desired the proprietor to change it. "With pleasure," said he. "Suggest an appropriate one, and the room shall be rebaptized upon the spot." Having puzzled their brains for some time to no purpose, the 90 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE BRIDAL CHAMBER critics acknowledged themselves in a predicament. They gave it up. It was determined, however, that Crayon, should take a draw- ing of it, and give the world an opportunity of taking the matter under advisement. Near this is the Music Room, the interior of which is nearly filled with broad sheets of incrustation falling from the ceiling to the floor, between which one might walk as through the mazes of a labyrinth. These sheets, like others which they had seen, were translucent and highly sonorous. "When lights Avere placed be- hind them they glowed like candent metal, and at every blow gave out deep, rolling notes, which filled the fcave like the peal of a church organ. On singing with this accompaniment, the effect was singularly pleasing, the voice being broken into tremulous quavers by the overpowering vibrations. IN THE DAEK. 97 On their return by the way of the Great Hall, it was proposed to put out the lights, that they might enjoy the poetry of dark- ness and silence for a while. The guide stationed himself at a distance, the girls formed a group around Crayon, and Mice seat- ed himself near enough to touch Porte's boot with his hand, which he assured himself of by actual experiment before the lights were doused. "Now, girls, endeavor to hold your tongues, and be inspired with solemn awe." A nod of acquiescence was the answer. " Out with the lights !" And in a moment all was dark. Porte felt his arms simultaneously pinched by three little hands, and at the same time a huge grasp took him by the boot-leg. The si- lence was only broken by the suppressed breathing of the com- pany, distinctly audible, and the not unmusical tinkling of water dropping far and near, ringing in the darkness like fairy bells. The attempt at silence soon became oppressive to the ladies, and Minnie, in a stage-whisper, began to express her disappointment in regard to the darkness. "Dat's a fac'," said Mice. "I 'spected to a seed it good deal darker." "I can see more now," said Dora, " than I could when the can- dles were lighted." True enough ; pillared aisle, swath roof-rib, and candent col- umn floated before their vision, distinct, but changing as a dream. "It is owing to some excited condition of the optic nerves," said Porte, "which I will explain more thoroughly when we get out. Meanwhile, as the performance does not seem to give satis- faction, and we can neither hear silence nor see darkness, as we expected, let us light up and proceed." As they revisited the different points of interest on their return, there was a general disposition shown to linger and look again, as if the curious appetite was unsatiated still, and the faculty of wonder still untired. They slowly traveled on, however, and at length observed a soft, greenish tint upon the floor and walls of the cave, which had the appearance df paint or delicate moss. This coloring gradually grew greener and brighter until they found G 98 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. themselves re-entering the wooden vestibule, through the openings of which the bright, blasting light of midday streamed. So strong was the contrast that it required some minutes of preparation be- fore it was agreeable to venture out. On referring to the watch- es, it was ascertained that their visit had lasted nearly four hours, and yet no one had felt the slightest symptom of fatigue, physical or mental. But the sight of the familiar things of earth soon reminded them that it was dinner-time, and they cheerily retrod the path to the hotel. After dinner Porte Crayon took his sketch-book and pencils, and, with the proprietor's son for his guide, returned to the cave ; and it is to his persevering labors during that and the three suc- ceeding days that we are indebted for the accurate illustrations which give point and interest to what would otherwise be but a loose and unfinished description of "Nature's great master-piece." Indeed, but for the sketches, the disheartening task of descrip- tion would probably not have been undertaken, for how can mere words portray scenes which have no parallel among the things of upper earth ? How can the same conventional forms of speech which have been used a thousand thousand tiraes to describe mountains, rivers, waterfalls, buildings, thunder-clouds, sunset, and so on, to the end of the catalogue, be combined with sufficient skill and refinement to delineate subjects and sentiments so new and in- comparable ? Language fails frequently in conveying correct im- pressions of the most commonplace objects, and in the hands of its most skiUful masters is sometimes weak, uncertain, false. Com- bine it with the graphic art, and how the page brightens ! "Well have our fathers called it the art of Illumination. Most books without illustrations are but half written ; and with the increased and increasing facilities of art, the reading public will soon begin to demand it as their due, and pass by with disdain the incom- plete narrative which is given only in words. This must and will become, 'par excellence, the age of Illustrated Literature. The details of Porte Crayon's experiences in subterranean sketching are not without interest. On going into the cave, gen- erally after an early breakfast, he took some one with him to as- THE MAGIC TOWER. 99 sist in carrying in candles, and in illuminating the different apart- ments. This accomplished, he sent his companion out, and had the cavern to himself, with his thoughts for company. "I had visited the place," said he, "when a mere boy, and sup- posed the keenness of my appreciation of its wonders would have been blunted by that circumstance, as well as by the years of travel and adventure that have followed. I was gratified to find I was mistaken. It seemed, rather, that time and cultivation had mel- lowed the sensibilities and increased the power of vision. Nor did familiarity with its details diminish my astonishment ; on the contrary, at each visit wonder seemed to grow upon me. So dif- ferent from what we are accustomed to see, so infinite in its vari- ety, every flash of light developing some new field wherein the im- agination might revel, every change of position suggesting some new theme for the fancy to seize upon. Had there been a con- cealed spectator near when I was endeavoring to choose a point from which to make a sketch, he must have been highly amused at my ludicrous indecision. I arranged my candles and rear- ranged them. I ran up and down. I could not choose, and was forced frequently to laugh aloud at my own absurdity. I lay flat on the soft clay floor, with my sketch-book before me. I perched myself on the round head of some giant stalagmite. I climbed up the walls, and squeezed myself into damp niches. More mis- erable than the ass, I had a hundred bundles of hay to choose from, and the regret at what I missed seemed to overbalance the satisfaction I felt in the sketches actually made. Not unfrequent- ly I forgot my drawing entirely, and would sit looking with all the intensity of eyes and soul, as if endeavoring to comprehend more fully the wonderful creations by which I was surrounded. Canst thou read, O philosopher, what is written on these eternal tablets ? The percolation of water through limestone strata for ten thousand years — and nothing more 1 " The last sketch I made," continued Crayon, "is a most singu- lar one. In arranging the lights to show the huge mass called the Magic Tower to the greatest advantage, I observed two gigan- tic figures standing in deep shade, but strongly relieved against the illuminated wall. They stood so statue-like, and so complete 100 rORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE MAGIC TOWER. was the illusion, that I felt some hesitation in representing them, fearing that I might be suspected of condescending to an artistic trick. Although wonderful stories are often prefaced in the same manner, it rarely happens that any opportunity of telling them is neglected, notwithstanding the risk incurred in the reputation of A QUESTION OF TASTE. ]^01 the teller. So here go the statues, at all hazards. "While I was at work upon them, two boys entered with a pot of hot coffee, which had been sent to me by arrangement. Both started with surprise, and remarked on the giants, as they called them. By my pocket thermometer I ascertained the temperature of the cave to be about 53^ degrees Fahrenheit, and, although I sometimes remained in it from eight to ten hours at a time, I never felt the slightest discomfort from the darkness or any other cause. One morning, having risen before daylight, I went to work at a point not more than a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet from the en- trance. Here I suffered greatly from the cold, as the external air was at that time in the morning very frosty, and I was near enough to feel its influence." The length of the cave in a straight line is about sixteen hund- red feet, but the aggregate of all its branches and windings is near three thousand. It is said to have been discovered in 1804 by one Bernard Weyer, a hunter, while in search of some lost traps. Crayon, however, tells us he was credibly informed that Weyer was not the actual discoverer, but some one else whose name he unfortunately forgets. It makes no difference. Not all the his- torians nor indignant poets who have written, or will write, can ever ]*estore to Columbus the lost honor ■ of naming the New World ; and Weyer's Cave will be called Weyer's Cave till the end of time, in spite of any right or knowledge to the contrary. During the period of Mr. Crayon's entombment the ladies be- gan to grow restless, and seemed likely to fall a prey to ennui. As often as he returned to the hotel, he promised a speedy ter- mination of his labors ; and as often as he re-entered the cave, he forgot them and all the rest of the superficial world. One even- ing he was surprised and gratified to find them in a state of high good-humor ; and, in answer to his apologies for detaining them so much longer than he had promised, he was assured that they would cheerfully remain a day or two longer if he wished it ; the}' could amuse themselves very well, and were in no hurry to get tci Staunton, " And now, Cousin Porte," lisped Minnie, "we want your judg- ment on a question of taste." IQ2 POKTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. Porte Crayon, charmed by their complaisance, and flattered by the appeal, signified his readiness to sit in judgment. "While you were in the cave," continued Minnie, "we were perishing with ennui and for something to do. We ordered the carriage and drove to Port Republic, where we made some pur- chases, and we want you to decide which is prettiest ;" and there- upon each of the young ladies drew from her work-basket a wax doll, and held it up for Porte's inspection, producing, at the same time, sundry bits of gay-colored calico and cotton lace. "Mine,!' said Minnie, with great animation, "is to be dressed in red, and Dora's in green, and Fanny's is to have a black velvet polka!" "And so," said Porte Crayon, recovering his utterance, "you've deliberately gone back to playing with doll-babies ! " "Why Porte! How absurd! These are not for ourselves; they are intended as presents for the children at home. You cer- tainly do not suppose that we could be amused with dolls ?" "Certainly not," replied Porte. "I beg your pardon. I -was frightened. Indeed, I am glad it is explained. But you were so earnest and so gleeful." "Well, and have you not often told us that the secret of hap- piness was in always having something to do, and in doing that something Avith zeal and cheerfulness f Mr. Crayon was mollified at hearing himself quoted. "Every thing that I say is not thrown away," thought he ; " some of it sticks." "And now, Porte, that's a good cousin, sit down, and tell us something more about the cave while we carry on our sewing." Crayon drew up his chair complacently. "This, young ladies, is a favorable occasion to explain to you my theory in regard to the optical delusions in the cave when the lights were put out. The optic nerves — " "I say, Fanny, hand me the scissors." "Are you listening f said Crayon. "Certainly ; you said ?ierves." "The reason why, upon the first extinguishment of the lights, the inten- sity of the darkness is not appreciated, is — " " Now, Minnie, would' you advise me to trim this skirt with white or black f "Are you listening to meT' inquired Crayon, with some heat of manner. "To be sure we are, and very much interested; you PHILOSOPHY THROWN AWAY. ]^03 said is." "The reason, then, of this phenomenon is, that the op- tic nerves — " "Oh! Dora, don't for the world cut that bias ; you'll waste the green calico!" "Now, seriously, young ladies," said Crayon, reddening, ' ' I am endeavoring to give you some sci- entific information which may be highly useful, and will be at least ornamental, if perchance in society this subject should be in- troduced — " ' ' How elegant ! oh ! oh ! " exclaimed Minnie ; " it will be charming. It will be too sweet in this red dress. Diddle diddle, diddle diddle, diddle diddle," sung she, dancing the doll over the work-table in an ecstasy of delight. "May the deuce take them all ! " said Porte Crayon, rising indignantly, and stalk- ing out of the room. ' ' Such is the fate of all who, in the sim- plicity of their hearts, volunteer to benefit or instruct the world!" Presently he burst into a good-humored laugh. "After all, didn't Chief-justice Marshall play marbles after presiding in the Supreme Court — ay, and enjoy the game, too, as much as any of the boys?" Crayon put his head in at the open door. " Girls, I ask pardon for my impatient exclamation just now. Amuse yourselves while I seek a subject for another sketch." CHAPTER IV. THE LIONS OF STAUNTON. Once more upon the road ! The horses, seemingly tired of in- glorious ease and golden oats, trotted along at a jolly pace, ex- pressing their satisfaction in alternate snorts ; the coachman flour- ished his whip with such hearty good-will that the fuzz flew at every crack ; the girls chattered and sang in a manner betokening the highest exhilaration. Porte Crayon alone sat pensive and ab- stracted. His voice mingled not in the gleeful chorus ; and to Mice's frequent exclamations, "Mass' Porte ! da's a squirrel ; Mass' Porte ! da's a crow," he paid no attention. Presently a light hand tapped him on the shoulder. "Cousin, are you asleep ? or what has befallen you f" "I am not asleep, Cousin Dora, and the cause of my hidden grief can never be made manifest. I fear it is beyond the com- prehension of you girls." " Indeed!" cried they, indignantly; " what unparalleled assump- tion I as if any secret was beyond our comprehension." UNREALIZED IDEALS. ^05 " Pish !" said Fanny, " I would not give a brass thimble to hear one of Porte's secrets. I suppose he has lost a favorite lead-pen- cil, or something of equal importance." And, so saying, she look- ed out of the carriage window with as much nonchalance as she could assume. "I always did despise secrets," said Dora. "I never read one of those mysterious novels but I turned over the leaves to find out the secret before the characters in the book knew it." "But, Cousin Porte," said Minnie, with her most winning smile, "it seems to me that, when persons are traveling together, all the joys and sorrows of the trip should be common property, and that it is selfish, or at least ungenerous, for any one to appropriate ex- clusively either the one or the other." "So pretty a speech, cousin, deserves a better return than I shall be able to make ; for, in truth, like Canning's poor Knife- grinder, I have no secret to telL Indeed, if I had not been taken off my guard, I should have been tempted to invent one to satisfy you." " Now," said Minnie, " I suspect you are wishing yourself back in the cave." "That was a shrewd guess. Miss Minnie, and very near the truth ; for I have been ill satisfied with my success in subterra- nean sketching, and would fain have had a few more trials. But it is just as well as it is, probably, for if I had remained a month, I do not know that I should have succeeded better. When I com- pare the soul-filling grandeur of the originals with these bits of scratched and smutted paper which I have taken so much pains to elaborate, I begin to feel a sort of contempt for my art." "Why, brother !" exclaimed Fanny, with warmth, "the draw- ings are beautiful. We all recognized them. Mr. Moler recog- nized them. Any one who has seen the cave would recognize them at first sight." "But, Cousin Porte, you draw portraits so well," said Dora, encouragingly. "I would much rather excel in likenesses than to have a talent for caves." "Ah ! pretty cousin, I failed more ingloriously in sketching you the other day than I have done in the cave." IQQ POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. " Mass' Porte picters off a hoss mazin good, anyhow ; he tuck dis sorrel so pat, I think I see him switchin' he's tail." " Truly," said Crayon, with an air of satisfaction, " a little well- timed self-depreciation has brought me abundance of sympathy and consolation. I feel quite refreshed." "I'm glad to hear it," said Minnie; "and truly glad, on your account, that we have got away from the cave. I began to be ap- prehensive lest you might share the fate of a mocking-bird I once heard of." "What was that? Tell us about the mocking-bird." "Well," said Minnie, "an acquaintance of mine in the lower country had a mocking-bird whose powers of song and mimicking were marvelous, even among the talented race to which he belong- ed. From his cage, that hung in an upper window, he heard and reproduced, with variations and improvements, the notes of all the feathered tribe, from the chattering of the wren that built her nest beneath the window-sill, to the cooing of the dove that haunted the locust grove. He had even been known to make recogniza- ble attempts at imitating the gobble of a famous turkey-cock that strutted about the yard, and it was universally conceded he could do every thing but talk. One unlucky day a smart-looking negro rode up to the house, bearing a note from his mistress to the mock- ing-bird's mistress. As he tarried at the door for an answer, to pass time he commenced whistling. Now it seems the boy was also a genius in his way. He Avhistled like a flageolet, and, at all the dancing-parties, Christmas revels, or huskings, he was the ac- knowledged leader of the orchestra — fiddle, bones, and tambour- ine all playing second to his magnificent whistle. At the first notes which struck his ear the bird's eye sparkled ; he raised him- self upon his perch, and thus continued spellbound until the strain ceased. His mission finished, the lackey went his way whistling. Then the mocking-bird set himself firmly on his legs, and swelling his throat, began a warble. It was a failure. Again he strove, and again stopped, disgusted and dejected. A third time he gath- ered up his strength, and poured forth a sup er-a vine trill. He ceased ; the white film closed over his eye, and with a shivering flatter of his wings he fell from his perch — dead!" STAUNTON. 107 "Ugh!" said Mice, giving vent to his pent-up feelings, "he bu'st he's heart a-tryin'." "Poor thing!" said Fanny. "I know how he felt; I heard Jenny Lind once. It was not envy, nor jealousy, nor self-depre- ciation ; but it seemed as if those undefined longings jaf the soul, those dreams of happiness and perfection, were for a moment about to be realized ; then the delusion passes away, and for a while after common life appears intolerable." " How eloquent she is !" muttered Crayon. "There the genius of song got entirely the upper hand of the practical housekeeper." "Porte, get out with your nonsense!" "And," continued Minnie, "suppose that Porte, overcome by his high-wrought feelings, had perished in the cave, and become a great stalagmite, like — like^who f "Niobe, incrusted all over with carbonate of soda — " "Of lime," interrupted Crayon. " Or, like Lot's wife, a pillar of chloride of something or other." "A pillar of salt," suggested Dora. "True enough; so it was. There goes the chemistry!" cried Crayon. "The laboratory will be blown up directly." "And, as Porte tells us," cried Minnie, "the stalagmite would grow, and grow, and grow, until it reached the roof of the cave, and resemble a tower, which the proprietor, with his usual apti- tude in naming, would undoubtedly call the Tower of Genius, and which would be admired and wondered at through all time." "And if such a thing had happened," quoth Crayon, "you, dear cousin, would have wasted away like Echo, until there was noth- ing left but the tip of your tongue, which, like the soul, I firmly believe, is destined to be everlasting. And, by the grace of for- tune! there's Staunton." " Where ? Let us see !" cried they all at once. The approach to the town of Staunton, by the road from Wey- er's Cave, is quite imposing, especially if the view and its surround- ings happen to be lighted by a brilliant autumn sunset, as in this instance. On the right, the Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb stands out in bold relief from its background of rich foliage, its Doric portico being one of the best specimens of architecture to 108 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. .■?*! ASYLUM FOB THE DBAF AND DUMB. be seen in Virginia. On the left are the extensive and commo- dious buildings for the Insane ; and on the surrounding hills a number of pretty edifices — academies, seminaries, and private res- idences — exhibiting far more architectural taste than is usually found in the smaller Virginian towns. As the authorities had not been informed of the approach of our travelers, there was no public demonstration on their entrance into the town. But, in recompense, there was a considerable amount of staring on private account, especially among the color- ed population. And they flattered themselves, as they descended from their carriage at the door of the principal hotel— Crayon in his hunting costume, and each of the girls with a book in her hand ^that there was an unusual commotion among the loungers. The idea of making an impression was not altogether ungrateful to our friends, as they well knew that Staunton was renowned all over the State for its cultivated society. "Hark ye, girls," said Porte Crayon, making an emphatic ges- ture with his finger, "no doll babies here !" LITERARY LIONS. 109 BEC£PTIOH IK STAONTON. "Certainly not," replied they, in chorus. " The idea of carrying the books," pursued he, "is a good one. In connection with my sketching, it gives a superior air to the party, suggestive of the literary tourist, or something of that sort. While I don't admire pretension in any thing, there is a certain modest, yet dignified manner of suggesting, rather than asserting one's claims, that goes far among strangers." At this discoxirse Dora appear- ed really alarmed. "Mercy on us ! I hope no one will take me for a literary body. I'm confused at the bare idea. I sha'n't know what to say. I shall be afraid to open my mouth." "Bless your innocent eyes, ' Jr Cousin Dimple, don't be alarmed. No one would ever suspect you for a moment. But prattle away in your usual amiable and artless manner, and, believe me, you will be none the less admired." Here Crayon scrutinized his wards, and then cast an oblique glance at his own figure in the parlor glass. "I don't think," said he, "that a person of ordina- ry knowledge of the world would be apt to take any of us for liter- ary characters. But we must en- deavor to keep up appearances, at any rate." 110 POKTE CKAYON AND HIS COUSINS. On the following morning an untoward event occurred which gave great vexation to our friends, and showed that, however plausible Crayon's observations might appear, yet, upon the whole, those are least liable to mortification or misconstruction who live and travel without any pretension whatsoever. On sallying forth after breakfast to see the town, the girls in full costume, each with a magazine, and Porte Crayon with his sketch-book, they marched up street in high good-humor. On turning into the principal street, they saw an object that brought them to a halt. This was no other than that marplot scoundrel, Mice, dressed in his holiday suit, with a ruffled shirt of red calico, a June-bug breast-pin, a brass, headed cane, like the club of Her- cules, and, to crown all, a number of "Harper" under his arm. As he swaggered along at a leisurely pace, his face beaming with exalt- ed complacency, he was an object of general attention. Occasion- ally he paused to address a conde- scending question to some "com- mon nigger," to salute some tur- baned damsel of his own race at an opposite window, or to cast a look of ineffable satisfaction at his goodly shadow, which entirely overspread the narrow sidewalk. Crayon is a philosopher (one of a multitudinous and lofty school), who looks on the varying events of life with- admirable calmness and equanimity when every thing goes to please him, but who, when disappointed or thwarted, behaves very much like common people ; for, as Crayon sagely remarks, " It is not well for any individual to be entirely cut off from hu- man feelings and sympathies," On this occasion, had his coach- THE LITERARY VALET. ASYLUM FOE THE DEAF AND DUMB. m man been within reach, he would undoubtedly have caned him. As it was, his perception of the ridiculous got the better of his wrath ; and venting his feelings in a jumbled paragraph (which he afterward told the girls was a quotation from Furius Bibacu- lus, the Roman satirist), he turned about and hastened back to the hotel. "Waiter," said Mr. Crayon, "go into the next street, and when you see a big, foolish-looking negro parading about with a book under his arm, tell him to come down and get out my carriage, as we wish to take a drive." "Yes, sir," replied the grinning waiter. "I know him." As the streets were very dusty during the remainder of their sojourn in Staunton, our friends generally went out in their car- riage. They were highly gratified by a visit to the Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb, a near approach to which did not disappoint the expectations excited by the distant view. The grounds are al- ready improved with great taste, and, from their peculiarly fortu- nate location, are susceptible of improvement to an almost unlim- ited extent. The buildings are extensive, well arranged, and im- posing. Our friends took great interest in the exercises of the different classes of deaf mutes, and saw with wonder and delight how the missing faculties seemed, in some cases, to be more than supplied by the ingenious and skillful cultivation of the remain- der. An air of cheerfulness and home-like contentment pervaded the whole establishment, and it is not a matter of surprise that the pupils generally leave their Alma Mater with reluctance. While there they are unconscious of misfortune, surrounded by companions and guardians with whom their intercourse is free and unrestrained, and carried on in a language as graceful and ex- pressive as the most cultivated forms of speech. A part of the establishment is devoted to the Blind, a considerable number of whom are at present under instruction. On the return of our party, the conversation naturally turned upon what they had seen. Minnie May observed that if she had the choice of misfortunes, she would prefer being blind ; " Be- cause," said she, "I am naturally fond of talking, and one's friends 112 PORTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. would read aloud all the new works, and Cousin Fanny would sing for me ; and besides, there is a touching interest which at- taches itself to the blind, which does not belong at all to the deaf mute. A woman, after all, is a helpless, dependent creature ; and this misfortune, in rendering her more so, increases in a still great- er degree her claims to attention and protection." Fanny agreed to some extent to the foregoing, remarking that the cultivation of music, and the increased susceptibility to its charms, might com- pensate in some degt-ee for the loss of sight. She appreciated the pleasure of conversation, the fireside in winter, and the veranda in summer, but she was by no means prepared to admit that women were such helpless or dependent creatures. Moreover, she thought a deaf and dumb lady could keep house quite as ad- vantageously as one that had the use of her tongue, and that, upon an average, the servants got along as well without scolding as with it. Dora yawned, and said, for her part, she would be very well contented to remain as she was, but she did think she would like to have little feet, like a Chinese lady. " Mice," said Crayon, abruptly, " don't you wish you were white r " Bless your soul. Mass' Porte, I'se better as I is. Tse a pretty good nigger, but I ain't got sense enough to be white." HOSPITAL FOR THE INSANE. The Hospital for the Insane consists of a double range of brick buildings, extensive, elegant, and handsomely located, although its A CONTROVERSY. j^jg position is not so commanding as that of the Asylum, nor are the grounds about it in so forward a state of improvement. This work, however, is in progress, and will be carried out in a style commensurate with the extent and importance of the institution. Of the visit of our friends to the interior of the establishment they have never said much. They of course saw the public rooms, the cooking apparatus, and the chapel for the use of the patients, whicb is furnished with a fine organ, all of which are entirely un- exceptionable. Porte Crayon, however, was a good deal vexed with his wards for their persevering curiosity in wishing to see the unfortunate inmates of the Hospital. Having used moral suasion to no purpose, he privately bribed their conductor to tell them that the patients were not permitted to see or to be seen of strangers. Having thus disposed of the lions of Staunton, our travelers resumed their journey, and, leaving the general direction of their route, took the road to the northwest, toward the Chimneys, some sixteen miles distant. Several miles on their way they passed a man engaged in a controversy with a mule. As the presence of witnesses generally serves to aggravate a quarrel, so, upon the ap- proach of the carriage, both mule and man became more violent in their demonstrations. As well as could be ascertained from their actions, the man wanted to go to Staunton, and the mule seemed willing to go any where else, even preferring the alternative of going backward over a bank ten feet high rather than yield his point. The quarrel growing out of this diversity of opinion or of interest seemed likely to last some time, as the mule was a stout, healthy animal, and the rider a sinewy, long-legged, sun-burned farmer, with a choleric and determined expression of face. The ladies united in desiring Pbrte Crayon to stop the carriage, that they might see the result of the dispute. This, however, he per- emptorily refused to do, alleging as a reason that there was no calculating the time they might lose in waiting, and, besides, that politeness forbade them to be impertinent witnesses of the misfor- tunes of their neighbors. "Moreover," said he, "judging from the condition of things when we passed, you would most proba- H 114 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. "What's the matter? bly overhear, before long, a number of indelicate and profane ex- pressions, improper for female ears." But Minnie was unwilling to give up the point, and insisted that the poor man might get hurt, and that it would at least he civil to stop and send Mice to his assistance. " By no means, cousin. I can appreciate your kind motive, hut the man in question probably would not — certainly not in his present state of mind. Sympathy, in a case like this, only serves to increase the evil. I know something of these things by per- sonal experience, " said Crayon, with a wise wag of his head. Anon he leaned out from his seat, and looked back with great interest. Can you see him yet?" exclaimed the girls, looking through the peep- holes in the back of the carriage. ' __ There, indeed, they caught the last glimpse of the unhappy couple, in the same spot where they had first seen them ; the mule seated in the middle of the road on his ultimatum, and the rider, burning with rage and grief, standing astride of him, holding on by one ear, and pummeling him lustily with his disengaged fist. "Well, Cousin Porte, as politeness forbids us to laugh at the unlucky countryman, suppose you amuse us by the recital of some of your adventures — the experiences in mule-driving, for example, which you hinted at just now." " Welladay, girls ! it has been fifteen years or more since I rode one of them, and, to tell the truth, I have never cared to repeat the experiment. On that well-remembered occasion I was one of a ^iding-party, consisting of some eight or ten young people of both sexes, bound for a picnic on top of the North Mountain. When the party assembled at the rendezvous, I appeared mount- ed on a mule. The girls giggled, as a matter of course, and the THE CONTaoVERST. A REMINISCENCE. 115 men criticised my perverse eccentricity, as they called it. I, how- ever, defended my monture with great vehemence. The ancient kings of Israel rode mules ; knights and ladies in the chivalrous ages ambled on mule-back ; the great Mohammed rode one ; and why should not Porte Crayon bestride the likeness of Alborac? As the little animal trotted along with great sprightliness, I be- gan to get credit for some judgment in my selection, and one youngster, who was mounted on a bone-setter, begged me to ex- change with him. This offer, in the pride of my heart, I refused disdainfully. On fording the Tuscarora at the Old Church, we reined up to water our beasts. Alborac junior drank deep of the limpid wave, and, when he had finished, suddenly roached his back, and pitched me plump over his head into the midst of a flock of geese. I remember perfectly well how I felt when I rose out of the water. There was the cursed beast sipping away with the most cheerful and unconcerned expression of countenance, and making no attempt whatever to run away. " I hastily swallowed a large gulp of fury and wa- ter, and mounted the ani- mal again, endeavoring, at the same time, to appear as little incommoded as was possible under the circum- stances. ' Ha, ha ! ha, ha ! ' said I, forcing a hearty laugh, ' I got a little duck- ing !' There was no re- sponse, but such faces as I could catch a glimpse of aj)- peared all purple with con- straint. 'He! he! he!' I snickered again, 'I got a funny fall.' No one replied. 'What the prevents you from laughing T cried I, in a fury. ' No- body's killed !' A chorus of shouts and shrieks followed, long, loud, and unrestrained. I wouldn't have minded it, but Cousin Julia was there, and that infernal fellow Frank "Williams. Cous- A EEMINISCENCE OF EARLY DAYS, IIQ PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. in Julia could scarcely keep her saddle for laughing ; in fact, she laughed all the way to the North Mountain. Every silly, point- less speech furnished occasion for such extravagant and dispro- portioned merriment, that it was impossible not to perceive what was at the bottom of it. I had at least the satisfaction of per- ceiving that Frank was as much annoyed with it as I. The crea- ture was in love to that degree that he could neither laugh him- self nor endure to see Julia laugh. By the way, I can't imagine a more disgusting condition for any one to be in. They can't ap- preciate fun in any way, and are totally unfit for general society. "When we got to the top of the mountain, and were riding along its wooded crest in search of the spot for the view and the picnic, "Williams rode beside me. ' Crayon,' said he, ' I am heartily sorry for your misfortune.' "I replied, tartly, that I was not aware of having met with any serious misfortune, or of standing in need of any one's sympathy, and especiallj^ of his. Frank reddened, and, without more words, rejoined my cousin. They exchanged a few sentences in an under- tone, and presently she whipped up her horse and joined me. ' Porte, my dear cousin, you seem to be hurt. Frank — that is, Mr. Williams — did not intend to wound your feelings, and, indeed, I am extremely sorry — ' ' Cousin Julia, stop this stufi; It's bad enough to be thrown by a mule, ducked, and laughed at for an hour and a half without intermission ; but to be insulted in this manner, I won't put up with it. As for your Mr. Williams, he shall hear more from me.' And, to cut short the conversation and relieve my excited feelings, I gave my beast two or three sharp whacks across the rump. One would have Ij^en enough. He bolted like a shot, and, when I found myself, I was hanging to the limb of a scrub oak, unhorsed, and the breath nearly knocked out of my body. I was so bewildered by this ' hey, presto f move- ment, that, although I hung only a few feet from the ground, I had not sense enough to get down myself, but was lifted down and set against a tree by one of the party. "Like the man of Islington's second leap into the quickset hedge, this second mishap, aided by an apologetic glass of toddy brewed by Cousin Julia, entirely restored me to my good-humor, EXPLANATIONS AND APOLOGIES. 117 KERIINISCENCE NUMBER TWO. and, by the time the cloth was spread, I felt as well, soul and body, as I did before I ever mounted the accursed mule. " 'Williams, a word with you.' Frank approached me rather stiffly. We walked toward a laurel thicket a short- distance off. I observed Cousin Julia's eyes follow- ing us uneasily. 'Frank Williams, I have had an unlucky day of it — I have been ducked, laughed at, and, finally, hung on the limb of a scrub oak like a scarecrow. I have borne the laugh with reasonable fortitude ; but politeness and sympathy, under such circumstances, are beyond human endurance. Let me apologize — ' 'No,' said Frank, 'I must apologize — '' 'I was ill-tempered,' I insisted. 'I was a fool,' said he; and we both laughed until the tears rolled down our cheeks. "By this time Cousin Julia had joined us. 'What are you two laughing at T inquired she, with evident surprise and pleas- ure. ' Only some funny explanations we've been making,' I re- plied. 'Then, sir, you owe me an explanation for your uncivil haste in riding ofi" when I was talking to you ;' and, as she made this allusion, she, bit her lips, convulsively striving to avert an approaching paroxysm. ' Indeed, Miss Julia, I shall make no ex- planation whatever to you ; you have diverted yourself sufficient- ly at me and my misfortunes to-day to clear all scores, and leave me still your creditor for a considerable amount ; but Frank — oh no, I mean Mr. Williams — is dying to make some explanations to you. ' ' What do you mean, Porte T said she, suddenly forgetting her merriment, and blushing scarlet. ' Oh ! nothing at all,' I re- plied, hastening to rejoin the company, and chuckling at my wick- ed device for stopping Cousin Julia's mirth." 1X8 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. "Well, what became of them T' asked Minnie, with interest. "Pshaw ! They walked off somewhere, and didn't return until we had eaten up all the dinner. Some of the girls were consid- erate enough to save them a few sandwiches and a piece of pickle ; but they didn't want any thing to eat. Frank, on being rallied about his loss of appetite, did take a sandwich ; but, after nib- bling a mouthful or two, he quietly slipped the remainder to a pointer dog. However, he did not refuse a thumping swig of toddy ; and then, seizing my arm, dragged me off to take a walk with him, and made me the custodier of such a string of mawkish confidences that I returned with the deliberate intention of mak- ing him drunk. "As soon as my cousin laid eyes on us she divined my inten- tions, and gave me such a look ! "What an expressive eye Cousin Julia had! Language was really of no use to her, her eyes spoke so handsomely and eloquently; every glance was a paragraph. That look entirely unnerved me ; it read thus : ' Dear Cousin Porte, can you be so ungenerous as to take advantage of poor Prank's soft condition 1 You know, when a young gentleman has just been accepted, he is open to any folly or extravagance that may be suggested. Don't do it, for my sake ; don't make him drunk.' Having first secured a glass of toddy for myself, to nerve me to the sacrifice, I slyly upset the pitcher on the grass. You may imagine how I was berated and reviled. Dick Spindle, who was already in a state of juvenile exhilaration, expressed his re- gret that the mule had not broken my neck before I got there. The girls, however, thought the accident was not amiss, and Cous- in Julia gave me a look and grateful pressure of the hand that was entirely satisfactory." ' ' And what became of the mule V asked Fanny. "How absent I am. I forgot the mule entirely." "We all forgot the mule toward the conclusion," said Dora; "and I think, cousin, your mule story was near turning into a love story." " Bless me ! child, what better could I do ? The story had to run its course. My hero kicked up and ran away before the story was finished. He left me hanging in a tree with a couple of stu- TIME'S CHANGES. 119 pid lovers on my hands. I have got myself out of the tree, dis- posed of the eatables and drinkables, and left my lovers very hap- py. What more can any reasonable person ask V "I believe," said Minnie, "that Porte was in love with Cousin Julia himself." "Is that the only moral you can extract from my story, little humming-bird V "And that Frank married Cousin Julia, of course." " Frank did," replied Porte Crayon, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. "At that day Frank was a brilliant young man. He had a riding-horse that could out-rack Pegasus, was a jolly sportsman, chock full of adventure, and the life of all dinner- parties and dances. Now he is the most commonplace of farmers, growing fat and rich, wearing a broad-brimmed hat and green baize leggins. He rides his old brood mare to town, with a colt trotting after him ; has become a squire of the county, and goes to the Legislature. Poor Frank!" sighed Porte Crayon, feeling- ly, "that he should have sunk to this ! And yet he don't seem aware of his degradation : he brags like a Kentuckian. ' Vita con- jugalis altos et generosos spiritus frangit, et a magnis capitationi- hus ad humilimas detrahit.'' " CHAPTER V. THE CHIMNEYS AND THE WARM SPRINGS. And thus they beguiled the time in pleasant chat until some two hours after midday, when they found themselves within sight of the neat little village of Mount Solon. The inn to which they were directed — the only one in the village — ^was a very modest- looking establishment altogether, and was kept by an old palsied man, who appeared as if he might have known better days. As- certaining here that the object of their curiosity was only about two miles distant, they left their baggage and an order for supper with the landlord, and drove on. THE CHIMHEVS. THE CHIMNEYS. 121 After jolting over a rocky, uneven road for a short time, they at length had the satisfaction of seeing the black tops of the Chim- neys towering above the trees in the distance. At this point our travelers left their vehicle, and proceeded on foot, by a path lead- ing through a barn-yard, to the base of the rocks, about two hund- red yards from the main road. This curious group of natural towers rises at the point of a limestone hill, which juts out like a promontory into an extensive alluvial bottom. There are seven of them, some seventy or eighty feet in height, their bases v/ashed by a small stream, and their whole appearance reminding one of the ruined stronghold of some feudal baron surrounded by its neglected moat. To those whose fancies are more exclusively American, they look like the chim- neys of a deserted iron foundry, and, altogether, the picture pre- sented is in a high degree unique and interesting. From no point can all the towers be seen at one view. The northern one is the tallest, the most completely detached from the hill, and in all re- spects the most perfect. Its round, regular stratifications, gradu- ally narrowing toward the top, show like successive galleries and cornices, such as are represented in the old pictures of the Tower of Babel. This structure is about eighty feet in height, and thirty in diameter near its base. It is tunneled below by a wide arch- way, through which is the most convenient approach to the bases of the other towers ; and, from one point of view, this huge mass appears supported only upon two pillars. The southern group, consist- ing of three towers, united for ■ about half their height, is also ; perforated by a cavernous pas- sage, narrow at each entrance, but opening to a chamber of THE GREAT TOWER. 122 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. some size in the centre. None of the Chimneys are completely detached from the hill ; and the view from every quarter is inter- cepted by a heavy growth of timber, much to the annoyance of the artist. Although these rocks are highly picturesque, curious, and not wanting in grandeur, our travelers, having lately seen objects of such surpassing interest, expressed their gratification here in mod- erate terms, and were soon seated under some opportune apple- trees, discussing their lunch with a zeal and earnestness which neither custom nor daily repetition had in the smallest degree abated. Not so Mr. Crayon. He spent his time walking curiously about, examining the towers and caverns at all points. Having made several unsuccessful attempts to ascend the rocks, he at length succeeded in reaching the summit of one of the lowest, which is joined to the hill by a natural wall several feet in thickness, and reaching more than half way to the top of the tower. Thinking this no great feat, and perceiving that the ladies were too much engaged to look at him, he came down and betook himself to his sketch-book. Having taken his position at some distance out in the meadow, to get a better view of the southern group, he was in a short time surrounded by all the dogs on the plantation, bull, ring, and bobtail, who barked and clamored until they were tired, and then trotted off, surprised and disgusted at the imperturba- bility of the artist. The sketches being completed, and the curiosity of all parties satisfied, our friends returned to their carriage. It was unani- mously agreed that, although they had been much gratified by their visit, yet there was nothing about the Chimneys to excite enthusi- POETE CKATON SKETOHINO. FINANCIERING. 123 asm — in short, they were wanting in the quality of sublimity. Porte went on further to observe that he preferred the homely name of " The Chimneys" to the more elegant appellation of " Cy- clopean Towers ;" for, although an admirer of the classics in the abstract, and understanding fully the propriety of the name as ap- plied to this style of architecture, yet he had always felt averse to mixing associations drawn from the Old World with American scenery. The most striking characteristic of our scenery, when compared with the European, is its freshness, observable even in the appearance of the rocks, and the charm of the impression is always disturbed by any association with the old mythology. The family of the Cyclops was Sicilian, and was disposed of long before the discovery of America by Columbus in 1492. Let them kick and sprawl till Doomsday under their mountain tomb. We doubt if the introduction of distinguished foreigners is of much advantage in any way to us on this side of the water. Miss Dora expressed a doubt whether there were ever any such persons as the Cyclops ; but Crayon assured her that he had seen the place where they were buried. Arrived at the barn-yard, they found their horses still engaged in munching some remarkably fine oats, which had been served up in an old pig-trough. Crayon complimented his man on his thoughtful attention, and desired him to go and pay the farmer for the feed. The coachman replied that, having a suspicion that the horses might get hungry, he had taken the precaution to bring a supply ■with them, which he had procured from Mr. Moler's barn at the Cave Hotel. Not recollecting any charge for extra oats at that place, a sus- picion began to insinuate itself into Mr. Crayon's mind. "What? why, here's a bushel more in the carriage-box! You scoundrel ! have you been stealing, and feeding my horses on sur- reptitious oats?" " No, indeed. Mass' Porte, dese ain't dem kind ; dese is de best oat^ I seen sence I left home." And Mice went on to declare that the oats in question fairly belonged to the horses, as they had not eaten their full allowance 124 POETE CHAYON AND HIS COUSINS. while stabled at the Cave Hotel, and he had only taken what he thought they ought to have eaten. He moreover added, by way of strengthening his defense, that the horses relished these oats especially, and that Mr. Moler had such a pile of them in his barn that he would not have missed ten bushels, if any one had seen fit to take that quantity. Notwithstanding this clear explanation, Crayon would have given his coachman a severe reprimand, but they all got into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, and one should never attempt to moralize without a sober countenance. Fanny, being the first to recover her gravity sufiiciently, re- minded Mice of his devout belief in a place of future punishment, expressed while in the cave. This belief he reaffirmed, but felt assured that he "wasn't gwine to be saunt dere becase he took good care of his bosses." Porte Crayon then mildly but firmly suggested that, whenever there should be need of a fresh supply of oats, he should be informed, and they should be acquired by purchase in the regular way, as our goyeTnm.eTa.t formerly acquired territory. Mice acquiesced, of course, promising faithfully to at- tend to the matter ; but looked, at the same time, as if he thought this arrangement involved a very unnecessary and absurd expen- diture of money. Our adventurers were on the road next morning before sunrise, while the fields were yet white with frost. "This is an improvement, girls. How well you all look this morning ! This is the glorious time for traveling. The horses move gayly, and puff clouds of smoke from their nostrils like two steam-engines. Now the sun begins to show his red disk above the hills, and gilds the mountain-tops rising to the westward of us." Dora's eyes sparkled as she suddenly plucked Crayon's sleeve. " Hist ! cousin, there's a pheasant !" "Where? quick! point him out!" whispered Crayon, unsling- ing his yager. "There! don't you see? On that old log among the pines." Mice had stopped the carriage upon the first intimation of game, and was looking intently into the bushes. "Da he is! I sees him! big as a turkey-gobbler. Good Lord, Mass' Porte, shoot quick : he gwine to fly!" PHEASANT-SHOOTING. 125 "Be quiet, you blockhead ! I see him now. A fine cock, with his neck stretched and his ruff up." Bang went the rifle ; whir — r, Avhir — r, whir — r went the pheas- ants in every direction from among the grape-trees, where a large company of them were breakfasting. "Fotch him I" shouted Mice, tum- bling out of the carriage, and rush- ing intcj the bush- es. Presently he returned, his face illuminated with a '' / triumphant grin, carrying the bird by the legs. "Bul- let tuck him right through the neck ; mizzible good brile he'll make ; fat as butter." The whole company were now on the alert. " There's a pheas- ant ! No, it's a ground squirrel." "There's one in the grape- tree ! " Bang ! down he tumbled, whirring and fluttering among the dead leaves. The girls clapped their hands, and were so full of the sport that the carriage could scarcely hold them ; and when Porte Crayon missed a shot in his haste, they were quite outra- geous upon him. He reinstated himself, however, by shooting two more birds shortly after. " We've now come to an open coun- try, and there will be no more pheasants this morning," remarked Crayon. The girls were quite vexed, and insisted on going back over the same road. " How blood will show itself, in spite of every thing !" cried the delighted Crayon. "All our family take to hunting as naturally as sparrowhawks." PHEASANT-SHOOTING. The appearance of the Augusta Springs diverted the attention of our travelers from the subject in hand ; and as it was a pleas- X26 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. ant, rural-looking spot, they determined to tarry for half an hour to see what was to be seen. This place is twelve miles distant from Staunton, and is more frequented by visitors from the neigh- borhood than by those from a distance, its name abroad being overshadowed by its more celebrated rivals in the counties of Bath and Greenbrier. The water is a sulphur, and is said to possess some value as a remedial agent. The girls here purchased a spot- ted fawn's skin from an old lady, for the purpose of making Porte Crayon a bullet-pouch, to be presented as a testimonial of his skill in shooting pheasants. About two miles from these springs our friends struck the Lew- isburg road, which passes the mountain at Jennings's Gap with- out a perceptible grade. Frorn this point the country becomes more wild and rugged in its features. Mountains rise on every side, forests of pine and hemlock border the way, and limpid streams pour over rocky beds, murmuring of deer and trout. Hu- man habitations become fewer and farther between, ruder in their character, and frequently ornamented on the outside with trophies of the chase — deers' horns, raccoon and bear skins, and turkeys' wings. At this season, too, the road seemed to be deserted by travel. Occasionally, indeed, they met a lonely teamster, who, after exchanging with Mice their characteristic salute, a crack of the whip, passed on his snail-like journey toward Staunton. The horses made good speed that day, although the meridian sun was hot and the road dusty. Cloverdale was reached at length and left behind. It was still far to the Bath Alum, and the sun was rapidly declining. The mountains rose grandly, deep blue, with sharp-drawn outline against the glowing west. Still the tired horses jogged on, fetlock-deep in dust. The pine forests grew tall- er and gloomier in the fading twilight. No sign of life or civil- ization yet. Then utter darkness closed her wing over all the land. Night is the time for evil-doers to be abroad. Night is the time when wild birds range for their prey. Night is the sea- son for the busy teeming fancy to conjure up its thousand pha,n- toms. The girls whispered timidly among themselves, and Cray- on instinctively examined his arms to feel assured that all was right. AN ALARM, THE WAGONER. " Drive cautiously, now, Mice : it is useless to hurry ; it can get no darker, and we must trust to the instinct of the horses." Presently these came to a dead halt of their own accord, nor was a cautious admonition of the voice and whip sufficient to in- duce them to stir. "Dey sees somethin'," said Mice, who believed firmly that horses could see ghosts and other strange things invis- ible to mortal eyes. But the animals snorted and gently pawed the ground, thereby intimating to their masters that they were 128 POETE CE.AXON AND HIS COUSINS. neitiier frightened nor fatigued, but had stopped from some other motive. "I think I see something myself," quoth Porte Crayon; "a tall white thing standing on the left of the road." "Lord bless us, master!" cried Mice; "what you think it isf " I think it is a sign-post," replied Porte. "Fanny, feel in my knapsack, under the sketch-book, and rolled up in a silk handker- chief you will find my tin match-box. Hand it to me." Crayon got out, and hav- ing lighted a wisp of par per, found that he had not been deceived. There was a sign-post standing where the road forked, and by the light of his flickering torch he managed to read the di- rection to the Bath Alum, one mile distant. The horses, satisfied with this reconnaissance, started off" briskly before Crayon had fairly regained his seat, or the coachman had given the warning crack of his whip. "D'ye hear. Mice? these horses must be well rubbed and curried before you go to bed to-night ; to-morrow they shall rest." Now they see the star of hospitality twinkling in the distance, suggestive of smoking suppers and comfortable beds. These prom- ises were, in the present instance, destined to be fully realized. Soon the cheerful board, spread with biscuit, com cakes, and hot venison steaks, rejoiced the souls of our benighted travelers, while crackling fires roared in the chimneys of the parlors and bed-rooms. "Ah!" said Porte Crayon, throwing himself upon a springy sofa with a sigh of unspeakable satisfaction, and a dreamy retrospect of numberless corn dodgers, hot and brown, floating in butter, and of four broad-cut, generous portions of venison steak — "ah mel THE SIGN-POST. APPETITE AND COMPLEXIONS. 129 As much as I contemn luxury and despise civilization, with its at- tendant fopperies and vices, I don't mind taking a good supper occasionally." "Indeed," said Fanny, "I don't think you could take many such meals as you made to-night ; the sixth time your plate went up for steak, both the waiter and manager got into a titter." "My plate went up but four times," replied Crayon, dogmatic- ally; "and the manager was laughing at my wit, and not my ap- petite." "It went up six times, as I live." "Young woman," said Crayon, with feigned asperity, "I did ob- serve, but did not intend to comment on your performance at sup- per. Suffice it to say, if you had been in a region where fashion takes cognizance of what and how much young ladies eat, you would have lost caste forever. Indeed, if those peony-colored cheeks of themselves would not be an insuperable objection to your admission into any refined society." "Good gracious!" cried all the girls at once, "you don't mean to say our cheeks are red ?" "Red!" quoth Crayon, contemptuously; "the word don't ex- press it. A respectable damask rose would look pale beside them." "This comes of traveling in the sun and wind with these fool- ish bonnets," cried Fanny, spitefully. "It comes of exercise, fresh air, and good appetites ; for, be- sides, you are getting as fat as partridges." " It is no such thing," said Minnie, indignantly. " Porte, you're a horrid bear ! Come, girls, let us retire and leave him." "And as freckled as turkey eggs," continued Crayon. "It is positively insulting. He has no consideration for our feelings." Porte shouted after them as they flounced out of the room, in- sisting that he had not intended to offend, but had really supposed he was complimenting them. After enjoying his sofa for a while, it occurred to him to com- mend his pheasants to the cook, as they might probably be oppor- tune at breakfast. Nor did he omit to assure himself of the well- being of the horses ; and, not long after, our hero found himself I 130 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. mentally comparing the merits of a hair mattress with those of the hemlock couch of the Canaan. As no conclusion has ever been reported, it is supposed he fell asleep before finally disposing of the subject. THE BATH ALUM SPRINGS. The drizzling rain which fell during the whole of next day did not prevent our friends from enjoying their comfortable quarters, nor even from making sundry out-door excursions. The improve- ments at the Bath Alum are certainly superior, in point of taste and elegance, to those at any watering-place in the mountains of Virginia. At a distance of several hundred yards from the hotel, beneath a slatestone cliff, fifteen feet in height, are found the Alum Springs, which are nothing more than six little reservoirs so ex- cavated as to catch the drippings from the projecting rock. These reservoirs contain the alum water in different degrees of strength ; one of them is a strong chalybeate, and one a mixture of chalyb- eate and alum. These waters are but recently known as a re- medial agent, and have suddenly obtained immense celebrity b}' their success in curing diseases hitherto reckoned incurable. Those THE DEOVK. 131 ^':«i DELIGHTFUL ! ISN'T IT ? who are desirous of more accurate and extended information on the subject are commended to Dr. Burke's excellent work on the Virginia Springs, or, what might . '""HMEr ^ -^J^Bi^K be still more to the purpose, a visit to the Springs themselves. As for our travelers, having tak- en large doses of broiled pheas- ant that morning, they confined their experiments in alum water to a cautious sip from the glass handed by the polite manager, a comical wry face, and a forced com- pliment to its flavor — faugh ! In the afternoon the rain increased to a continued heavy show- er ; notwithstanding which. Crayon, accompanied by his valet, went hunting, and it was near dark before they returned, weary, wet, and hungry, with only three or four unlucky squirrels for their pains. From this place to the Warm Springs, the distance of five miles is accomplished by traversing the Great Warm Spring Mountain, on an easy, well-constructed road. When our friends set out from the Alum the rain had ceased, and fair promises of a clear day were given. Masses of damp-looking clouds still hung about the tops of the mountains, as if unwilling yet to yield the day to Phce- bus, who, for his part, poured his bright rays through at every opening, producing in endless variety those brilliant and start- ling effects of light and shade so much sought after by the scenic school of English painters. When about halfway up the mount- ain, the girls, who had walked in advance, were seen suddenly to turn and fly with all speed toward the slow-toiling carriage. "Oh heavens! let us in — let us in quick!" "What now? What's the matter? Have you encountered some untimely snake or frost-bitten lizard ?" To Crayon's inquiry they vouchsafed no reply, but in breathless haste bundled into the vehicle, and, ere they had fairly disposed themselves in their seats, the question was answered from another quarter. Where the road swept in a bold curve around the base 132 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. of a cliiF, now advanced with slow and stately tread, in all the pomp of bovine majesty, the vanguard of one of those monstrous herds of cattle wending their way from the rich pastures of Mon- roe and Greenbrier to the eastward. First came a stout negro, with stupid face and loutish step, leading an ox, whose sublime proportions and majestic port might have served as a disguise for Jove himself. THE DROVE THE WARM SPRINGS. I33 " Large rolls of fat about his shoulders clung, And from his neck the double dewlap hung," while his horns sprung from his curling forehead in tapering length, a full cloth-yard each one. What horns! What noble drinking-cups they would have made. One of them would hold enough to fuddle a Thracian. The negro remarked Crayon's ad- miring glances, and, as he touched his hat, the dull face lighted up with an expression: "Am not I one of the chosen — I, who serve so magnificent a beast ? Night and morning I curry him, and walk all day in his presence. He and I are the observed and en- vied of all." "Tears to me," said Mice, " dat fool nigger is proud to be a leadin' of dat big, beef" Following this leader came a train of thirty or forty others, scarcely inferior in size or appearance ; and when the carriage, winding slowly through this formidable-looking company, turned the angle of rock, the road was visible in its windings for a mile or more, alive with cattle and bristling with horns. The horses held on their way through the living mass as steadily as if una- ware of their presence, although the mountain resounded far and near with the hoarse bellowing of the beeves, mingled with the oaths and whoops of the drivers. The girls, who at first looked doubtfully upon the array of monstrous horns, and the red, low- ering eyes of the savage troop, soon regained their self-possession, and commented coolly on their size and keeping. The celebrated view from the summit of the Warm Spring Mountain did not strike our travelers very forcibly, probably ow- ing to the clouds which hid the distant mountain-tops rising to the eastward. The view of the Warm Springs and the valley seen directly below them was extremely pretty. This village, which is the county-seat of Bath, owes its existence and name to the fa- mous fountain, and, in fact, consists of nothing more than the group of hotels, cottages, and out-houses about the Springs, and the ordinary county buildings, a court-house, jail, etc. The prin- cipal hotel has heretofore had a high reputation for excellence ; and the bathing-houses, although somewhat primitive in their con- struction, furnish a bath at a natural temperature of 98° Fahren- heit, tlie luxury of which must be experienced to- be appreciated. 134 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE WAHM SPRINGS. Our party remained at this place but a few hours, and hurried on to the Hot Springs, five miles distant, where they arrived about five o'clock on Saturday evening, the 2 2d of October. Although the hotel here was closed for the season, the proprietor gave them a hospitable welcome, and they soon found themselves installed in comfortable quarters. This place, to the scientific traveler, is one of the most curious and interesting in the mountains. The Hot Springs, about twenty in number, issue from the base of a hill or spur of the "Warm Spring Mountain^ and range in temperature from 98° to 106°, but, owing to the proximity of fountains of cold water at 53°, baths of any intermediate temperature may be had. The bathing-houses are numerous and well arranged to suit the purposes of invalids. These waters are chiefly celebrated for their efiicacy in rheuma- tism, dyspepsia, and affections of the liver, although they are re- sorted to by all classes of invalids. The proprietor is himself an eminent physician, and to the enlightened use of the waters under his direction is probably owing much of their success in the cure of disease. THE HOT SPRINGS. 135 ftTm ^11 '^"'WffWl,,! ~\ f- - Jj,! / ing world. What a moment for the artist to seize him, as he is- sued from the bushes covered with snow, white as a polar bear, and trailing after him, by his un- conscious legs, a hundred feet of grape-vine!" The snow had by this time at- tained a depth of fourteen inch- es, and was still deepening and drifting furiously. While the storm grew mightier, human and equine energy had their limits. The horses panted and sobbed at every hard brush, and the snow-flakes no longer whitened their smoking hides. Wet, worn, and chilled, master and man sat drowsily in their seats, feeling the approach of that dangerous lethargy which steals over men too long exposed to cold. "Mass' Porte, I wish we was at a tavern," exclaimed the sub- dued coachman. Porte folded his arms across his breast, and, with a desperate look, took a rapid mental survey of their position. "It is now four o'clock ; night will be upon us a little after five. Since we passed the toll-gate we have scarcely averaged a mile in an hour. The horses are failing ; this over-done giant is losing his courage. We shall be benighted, and completely blocked up by the snow in this wild, inhospitable forest. Poor girls ! it was my rashness and obstinacy that brought them into this perilous position. God knoWs what may happen. I dare not think of it. They have been silent within there for some time. I have had no desire to communicate with them. I must warn them against sleeping, however, and must be careful not to alarm their fears. No, not for the world ; they would sink under it, if they even suspected their situation." Crayon quietly lifted the corner of the front curtain, and peep- ed into the interior of the vehicle. The first glance at his charge relieved him of any fears as to the state of their minds. They were not asleep, nor were they weep- 144 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. ing ; but Fanny had the lunch-sack on her lap, from which she had distributed sundry biscuits and slices of ham, and, at the exact moment of Crayon's observation, all three were so busy in dis- membering a broiled chicken, that he dropped the curtain and re- gained his former position unperceived. One might have sup- posed that this exhibition of the " mens cequa in arduis^'' in a trio of women would have delighted our hero. On the contrary, he was highly indignant. He mentally accused them of lacking the wit to appreciate their danger, and of the most heartless indiffer- ence to his exposure and sufferings. Moreover, when he thought of the heroic labors of Mice and himself, and compared their pres- ent forlorn condition with that of the ungrateful girls, giggling over their lunch, he felt strongly inclined to break in upon the feast, and warn them of their approaching fate. " Mass' Porte, please, Sir, on tie dis knot in my whip-lash ; some- how my fingers won't work." "Neither will mine," said Crayon, " and I can't limber them. My gloves are wet, and my pockets full of snow." "Here, take these, Porte," and a dainty little hand appeared beneath the curtain, presenting a pair of fur-tipped gloves. He received them with a gruff acknowledgment, and then regarding the gift with a smile of indifference, muttered, "The inconsiderate child ! I couldn't get three fingers into them." So saying, he thrust them carelessly into the left pocket of his vest. Crayon felt a genial warmth pervading his half congealed breast. It is difiicult to believe that so trifling an addition to a man's clothing as those bits of fur and silk could produce so great a change ; pos- sibly their location in the vest pocket had something to do with it ; but true it is, from that moment our hero felt neither cold nor despondency. Once more he sat erect, and his drooping eye again glanced defiance to the tempest. "They shall not perish, positively," he growled, between his teeth. ' ' Their entire insouciance doubtless proceeds from a firm reliance on my promise that no harm should befall them, and they believe in my ability to fulfill it as confidently as if I were ruler of the storm. How beautifully feminine the trait, and how ab- ject the soul that would not fire with the assumed responsibility !" DREAMS AND KEVEKIES. ^45 Crayon's bosom so glowed with these generous emotions, that all the snow melted oS the breast of his coat, and he broke forth into voluntary song. What particular song he sung is not recorded. Doubtless it was a good one, for the curtain was drawn up, and voices from the interior of the carriage swelled the jolly chorus. " Amid the storm they sang" so blithe a carol, so hearty and so brave withal, that Boreas, in sheer disgust and impotence, gave up the war. They had passed Morris's Hill, and the road lay before them plain and unencumbered, except by the depth of snow. The coun- try, too, appeared more open, and the coachman's ardent wish to see a tavern seemed likely to be gratified speedily. Night over- took them, however, still toiling onward at a snail's pace. The driver dozed in his seat, abandoning the vehicle entirely to the dis- cretion and instinct of the horses, and the silence was only dis- turbed by the creaking of the carriage and the monotonous crunch- ing of the snow beneath the wheels. The effervescence of enthu- siasm was past, and overwrought nature claimed her dues. Un- disturbed by doubt or apprehension, our travelers sank unresist- ingly into pleasant reveries, and these, as if by a common instinct, turned toward their distant home. These siren thoughts insensi- bly glided into dreams. Their journey was accomplished ; they had returned to their kindred ; the welcome was over ; the pantry ransacked to add to the profusion of the groaning board; "the fire fair blazing and the vestment warm" were prepared for them. Caressing friends sat listening with complacent admiration to their narratives of hair-breadth 'scapes and natural wonders; They re- called the Fort Mountains, the Cave, the Chimneys ; they remem- bered the day they crossed Morris's Hill in a snow-storm. A terrible day it was, and stoutly they bore themselves through it all At length the horses stopped, and the sorrel gave a loud snort, to which the roan replied with a triumphant whinny. Porte Crayon started from his sleep so suddenly that he flattened his cap against the top of the carriage. 'Before them, at a distance of no more than a couple of hundred yards, he saw a number of K 146 PORTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. lights and heard a confusion of loud voices. " Wake up, you lout ! Here's a tavern at last ! " he shouted, shaking and pommel- ing his man with all his might. In a state of complete bewilder- ment, Mice stretched his benumbed limbs, and mechanically re- sumed the governorship of the carriage. "Girls ! girls ! wake up. We've arrived at last." "At home? Are we at home?" said Dora, eagerly. "No, child; but, most fortunately for us, at a tavern." " Oh, cousin, are we still in the storm ?" said Minnie. "I have had such a pleasant dream." Before our travelers had fairly recovered their consciousness, their vehicle had threaded its way among a number of road wag- ons, and was drawn up in front of a country tavern — a long, low wooden building, with a rude porch running the whole length of the front. The girls were daintily transferred to the house, and the horses immediately driven oiF to the stables. "May I be spavined," said a wagoner to the group that wit- nessed the disembarkation, "if there baint an old feller with a beard as white as Noah's when he came out of the ark!" " Cuss my hide," said a drover, "if I know what started a, flock of wimmin to take the road sich a day as this," The supper, at which the tidy hostess presided, was such as her honest spouse had promised, and consisted of fried middling and flapjacks, with six varieties of fruit preserved in the same ferment- ed molasses. But, like Baucis and Philemon of old, " The kindly hosts their entertainment grace With hearty welcome and with open face ; In all they did you might discern with ease A willing mind and a desire to please." During the meal the man was at his wit's end to know how he should lodge his newly-arrived guests ; but, on consultation with his wife, it was agreed that their own room, which was in a cot- tage standing in the yard, and a little way removed from the main building, should be arranged for the young ladies; the dame, with her brood, retreating into the loft, and the man agreeing to take his chance among the wagr)ners. Crayon desired nothing better for himself, and, taking leave of the girls, went in search of his COMFORTABLY QUARTERED. 147 lieutenant, that he might have some assurance of the welfare of the horses. At the end of an hour he found him seated beside the kitchen fire, and there received the following artless report of his proceedings : The stables were even more crowded than the house. Not a stall was to be found, nor even a shed to shelter our faithful pair. The roan and sorrel looked wistfully into the crowded sheds, and saluted the possessors with many gracious and friendly whinnies. These salutations were civilly answered from within, but no movement was made to offer a place to the new- comers. Mice begged and diplomatized in vain ; he received noth- ing but curses and threats from the wagoners. When these, one by one, had looked after their horses, and retired to the more at- tractive precincts of the bar-room, he cast his eyes upon the hos- tler, a negro lad, who had been kicked and cuffed enough that day to prepare him for any thing that might be proposed. Mice de- sired his good offices to assist him in getting his horses under shelter, at the same time greasing his palm with a quarter. The boy insisted that every place was "chock full," and then added, in a tone that might have passed for suggestive, " Dassent move any of 'em, no, indeed — eh ! eh ! " "Whose bosses is desef asked Mice. "Dem's Mr. Longbow's, biggest devil of 'em all." ' ' Here's a big, wide stall, only one boss in ! " "Eh ! eh ! him kicks like forty jackasses." Mice inquired still further, and finally ascertained that a couple of horses, occupying a very cozy place, belonged to an individual who was dead drunk over in the loft of the tavern. Without more ado he untied their halters, and kicking them out into the yard, introduced his suffering friends into the vacated places. The boy made a show of protesting, and threatened Mice with the aw- ful consequences of his temerity. "De Lord knows," he sagely observed in reply, "a man what's dead drunk aint a-gwine to hurt any body." And, besides, he promised himself to get up before daylight, and replace the unlucky animals whose misfortune it was to have a master that got drunk. The roan and sorrel doubt- less had a comfortable night, if, indeed, the general belief is cor- rect that horses have no consciences. 148 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. That portion of the company which more particularly calls for the interest and solicitude of every. gallant and humane traveler being disposed of for the present in the most satisfactory manner, if any one is desirous of knowing what further adventures befell our friends during their sojourn at this inn or elsewhere, he is re- ferred to the next chapter of this veritable history. CHAPTER VII. A VIRGINIA HOSTELRY. Our hero, having cast about the premises, and seeing little chance of obtaining quarters elsewhere, with some reluctance be- took himself to the bar-room. Here, around a glowing fire, sat ten or a dozen teamsters and drovers, whose looks and demeanor seemed entirely in accordance with the • atmosphere of the room, which reeked with fumes of tobacco and corn whisky. As Crayon entered, a strapping, insolent-looking fellow, six feet three in his boots, and somewhat in liquor, welcomed him with a horse-laugh. " "Well ! may I be stalded in a mud-hole if here ain't the fellow himself, with a beard as black as a Mexican Greaser's, Jist now I thought it was white. Stranger, step up and drink something." Crayon was not altogether pleased with the prospect of the night before him, and might also have been nettled by the free and not over-polished commentaries on his personal appearance. He had, too, been contending all day with the conqueror of Napoleon, and it is not strange that he should have been disposed to look slightingly upon the anger of any mere mortal. He replied curtly by desiring the speaker to TIM LONGBOW. hold his peace. 150 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. "Why," said the giant, scornfully, " you appear to be an airy gentleman. Now may I never crack another whip if you shaVt drink or fight before we part." And, so saying, he rose and advanced several paces. Crayon, with the alertness of a rattlesnake, whipped out his hunting-knife, and standing on the defensive, so far as regarded his person, as- saulted the wagoner "vVith a volley of epithets, better understood and appreciated by the frequenters of Virginia bar-rooms than by the world at large. " Tim Longbow ! Tim Longbow !" cried the inn-keeper, rushing from the bar, and seizing the astonished teamster by the arms, "behave yourself in my house." " Leave me go," cried Tim, laying hold of a chair ; " I'll knock that frog-sticker out of his hand in no time." Others of the company now laid hands on Tim, who, perceiving that his antagonist stood his ground, suffered himself to be held and reasoned with, "You spoke oncivil to the stranger, you did," said the host; "and he's got ladies with him." "That's a fact," replied Tim; "but it hain't oncivil to ask a man to drink." "No, in gineral, not; but perhaps the stranger don't want to" drink." " Well, ain't the rule ' drink or fight' every whar' ?" " Jist so; it's the rule among your kind," argued the shrewd inn-keeper; "but you've no right to put your law in force on strangers in this here free country." This argument touched Tim's weak point, which was an inor- dinate love of liberty, both of speech and action. "May be so," said he, doubtfully; "but I don't like to be stumped, nor yit to be called a squirrel-picker, by no set-up swell whomsomdever." Crayon, by this time, ashamed of having "drawn among these heartless hinds," and perceiving that affairs were likely to take a humorous turn, put up his whittle, and, while he still firmly de- clined the spirits, offered to compromise the matter on a glass of water. This offer settled the point of honor ; and Longbow ob- served that, seeing he was satisfied the gentleman wa'n't too proud TIM LONGBOW. 151 to drink, he was free to drink water or any other truck he pleased ; as for himself, he ginerally preferred old Monongahela. The difl&culty being thus amicably arranged, they all shook hands, and reseated themselves around the fire. "Now, Mr. Longbow," said the landlord, with a sly wink at Crayon, " go on with that story you were telling a while ago about your trip to California." Tim cast a doubtful glance at the new-comer. "Well, stranger, I reckon youVe been to California yourself?" On being assured in the negative, Tim resumed his air of assurance and a somewhat tangled narrative, which had been interrupted by Crayon's en- trance. "As I was a-saying, we was a-sailing from San Francisco in a ship, and we was blew off a long ways out of our course, maybe about two months' sail ; and as I was a-saying, we got out of pro- visions, and had nothing to eat for six weeks." "Six weeks!" exclaimed one of the listeners. "Six weeks," reiterated Tim, looking hard at the audacious author of the interruption. " We all got as thin as wagon-whips, and we might have starved if we hadn't had the luck to catch a whale." "You must have found it rather coarse eating," suggested Crayon. Tim looked a little confused. "So it was ; rather coarse and bony." "But the roe you doubtless found very delicate?" observed Crayon. "That it was," exclaimed Tim, " and a plenty of it. We pack- ed forty-seven barrels with it, and, when briled and eaten with ship-biscuit, it was a treat to a hungty man. So, after a time, we got to Panama, and thar', thar' was no boats nor any way to git across, and the fellers was all gittin the ager and the yaller fever, and, for fear I should be tuck down my^lf, I tied my things in a wallet and swum across." "How far was itf inquired the landlord, with a humorous twinkle in his eye. "Well, it mought have been about fifteen mile, more or less; 152 POKTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. but there was shallow places now and then, where I waded a piece and rested myself." "How did you get across?" asked a fellow who was leaning against the chimney-jamb. "I swum across, mister," responded Tim, fiercely. "Are you armisdoubting of a gentleman's word ? Ill leave it to the stran- ger if it hain't so." The stranger agreed that it was all very probable. "Then," pursued Tim, "I walked a-foot up to New-Orleans, and boated up and down for a while, and then I tuck a notion to come back to this or'nary country agin. Not to say nothin' agin the country neither, but the people are such ignorant ramuses, that if a feller happens to tell something that he's seen a little out of the way, they're a-winkin' and a-snickerin' at one another as if it were a lie." Here Tim cast a contemptuous and significant glance around the circle, and laying his weighty hand upon Cray- on's shoulder, went on : " People that has traveled mostly knows a thing or two. Now I'll bet a hoss this gentleman has traveled some." Crayon admitted that he had traveled. "Well, now, what was the strangest country you ever was in, and what was the singularest thing you ever see ?" Crayon pondered for a moment, as if to consider the question, and then remarked that the strangest country he ever saw was the Arctic Zone, and the most surprising thing Avas the North Pole. ' ' Lord ! " exclaimed Tim, ' ' have you been thar' ? It's pretty fur north, hain't it ? belongs to these United States, does it V "It is the very tip end of the world north," replied Crayon; "and, although it does not belong to the States yet, they are get- ting up some filibustering parties to get hold of it as soon as pos- sible, for the purpose of extending tp its benighted inhabitants the blessings of American freedom during the winter — lights and firewood included." ' ' That's what I go in for, " shouted Tim. " Hurrah for liberty ! I'll wagon licker and provisions for 'em for nothing." "That unhappy country has long suffered under a despotism worse than Lynch law. T\ey have no better clothes than what they can manage to cheat the seals out of, with nothing better to TRAVELER'S TALES. ]^53 eat tlian fish oil, such as you grease your gears with, and would consider tanners' dubbin' a prime delicacy." (Here followed a unanimous gfoan ot commiseration.) "Besides inflicting these miseries on his own subjects, the insatiable tyrant Hiems — " "Himes! Himes!" ejaculated Tim ; "was he the Yankee feller that went in partnership with Miller about ten years ago to proph- esy the eend of the world ? Well, to be sure, the eend of the world wouldn't come down this way, so he went up thar' and got elected governor of it. These Yankees do beat all. I know'd one of them wonst — " "Hold your disrespectful jaw," said the landlord, "and let the stranger talk." Crayon went on to tell how this potentate, unmindful of our enormous navy and the wrath of country editors, insulted our flag, seized and destroyed our fishing vessels, and imprisoned for life our citizens both native and naturalized. This conduct was pronounced to be "a cussed or'nary shame." Then followed a minute description of the governor-general's palace of ice ; his do- mestic arrangements ; his superb sleigh, robed with white bear- skins, and drawn by a team of reindeer ; of his herds of sea-cows, and the manner in which they were milked, besides a catalogue of other wonders. What with a little natural history, and a fancy enlivened by recollections of the snow-storm, he so far outstripped the genius of the bar-room Munchausen that this worthy sat abash- ed and confounded ; and at length, taking the shapeless, weather- beaten felt from his frowzy pate, and handing it over to our hero, he sighed, "Here, stranger, I gin in; take my hat." Tim's over- throw was hailed with a shout of laughter, in which he joined with the best grace he could. He evidently perceived, however, that he had dwindled in pub- lic estimation, and seemed puzzling his head to find some means of reinstating himself Presently he visited his overcoat pocket, and drew forth a greasy, well-thumbed pack of cards, observing that, as thar' were no beds, they might as well amuse themselves somehow. A murmur of dissent went round the circle, which Longbow disregarded, while he gave the pack several scientific flips, and cast a significant look at the stranger. Crayon declined 154 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. the challenge thus conveyed ; but, being solicitous that the entente cordiale which now existed should not be disturbed, and to the end that his motives might not be misunderstood, he told the team- ster to hand him the pack, and he would show him something which he probably had never seen before. The request was cheer- fully complied with, and Crayon went on to exhibit a number of jugglers' tricks, to the great astonishment and admiration of the company. These successful performances elevated our hero to such a pitch in the public favor, that it was unanimously resolved they should order a pitcher of "hot-pot," and get drunk in honor of the occasion, whether he joined them or not. While the savory stew was brewing, Tim went for his fiddle, and, to the practiced eye, there were unmistakable evidences of an approaching spree. Crayon withdrew himself into a corner convenient for purposes of observation. The fiddler struck up "The Chickasaw Nation," which, with a variety of similar airs, he played with great unc- tion. The pitcher circulated rapidly, and the party was moment- arily increased by the addition of sleepers from the adjoining rooms, who had been wakened by the uproar. As Mr. Longbow was about laying aside his instrument to rosin his throat with an additional pint of hot-pot, it occurred to him that he had been wanting in an act of courtesy usual on these oc- casions. Although something of a swell, a bully, and a liar, Tim was still a Virginian, Vanquished as he had been on certain points upon which he prided himself, he had too enlarged a soul to exhibit or even entertain any ill-wiU toward the victor. With a glass of hot-pot in one hand and the fiddle in the other, he ad- vanced toward Crayon, and proffered the instrument, with this civil inquiry, " Perhaps, stranger, you can choke the goose your- self?" Considering the circumstances, the act was chivalric and worthy of Tim's birth-place. One of our hero's early misfortunes was that he had been sent to college. Being naturally of an erratic and wayward disposi- tion, he forsook the beaten track of learning, discarded the print- ed programme for the Sophomore year, and diligently perfected himself in the mysteries of "old sledge" and the fiddle. At the PORTE CRAYON'S TRIUMPH. 155 end of the year his Euclid and Grasca Majora smelt as fresh as on the day they left the book-store, while he had sawed through innumerable strings of catgut, and thumbed to pieces pack after pack of Crehore's cards, with a perseverance which some persons might say was worthy of a better cause. The perusal of Chester- field's Letters, and further acquaintance with the world, had long ago induced him to lay aside an accomplishment which, to say the least, is of doubtful utility to a gentleman ; but it must be ac- knowledged, privately, he never laid eyes on a fiddle that his fin- gers did not itch to get hold of it. There was nothing in the sur- roundings there to remind him of Chesterfield, and, yielding to a natural impulse, he took the instrument, and sticking it under his chin, flourished ofi' that brilliant extravaganza, "The Devil's Dream," in such efifective style that the whole house, and especial- ill, IllU'llllflllll :ii;i!';ii;'^w 'Mm K{;iii';ii:'';i:" THE TRIUMPH 156 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. ly Tim Longbow, were perfectly electrified. The excited herd stood for several moments mute and listening, then made a rush, en masse, upon the person of the fiddler. Before he could resist or protest, he found himself taking an Olympic promenade on the shoulders of the enthusiastic crowd. Whether Crayon felt more like a Grecian hero or a rowdy, as he rode round and round the dusty bar-room, we have never been able to ascertain. His countenance, serene and Sphinx-like, be- trayed none of the emotions of his soul, while he continued to flourish his fiddle-stick with a furious zeal that would have done credit to the great Volker of the Niebelungen Lied. At the end of about half an hour he managed to make his escape into another part of the house, and finding there a sleeping-place, lately desert- ed by some fellow, he rolled himself in the blanket, and, pillowing his head on a saddle, slept soundly till morning. Having sometimes attempted to rally Crayon on the subject of this involuntary ride, it is manifest that he does not care about alluding to it, and generally parries it with some good-humored jest. On one occasion. he changed the conversation by observing that, in some late researches which he had made, he had dis- covered that the fish upon which Arion is said to have ridden was not a dolphin, as commonly sup- posed, but a bull porpoise ; and from the arguments, pictorial as well as verbal, he advanced in support of this theory, we are """"" inclined to believe it correct. At half past six next morning the thermometer stood at 20° ; but, maugre the cold and their recent fatigue, our travelers were stirring at that early hour, en route for Callahan's, where they de- termined to breakfast, as they had ascertained it was only a few miles distant. In the light of an unclouded morning the terror of the snow-storm had vanished, and the whole country resembled APPETITE AND SENTIMENT. 257 a grand panoramic painting, the work of some wild, imaginative artist rather than cold reality. Field and forest were still cloth- ed in their feathery white panoply, while rock, tree, and lowly shrub, hanging with icicles, glittered like fancy glass-work, and icy cataracts hung from the hill sides, rigid and motionless as the spar- ry concretions of a cave. But when the tardy sun began to illu- minate the picture with his glancing rays. Crayon turned and thus addressed the inmates of the carriage : "Look, girls ! look, and enjoy it while you may. It is but an evanescent scene, but one might live for a hundred years and never look on such a sight again. "Welcome the day of storm and trav- ail ! welcome the night of cold and darkness ! that, like beneficent twin genii, have wrought this scene of more than earthly splen- dor." " I sees de tavern," quoth Mice, " and smoke a-pourin' out of de kitchen chimbely." "'Tis well," sighed Crayon; "the wants of the body must not be forgotten." Fresh, rosy, and sharp-set, our travelers stepped upon the plat- form at Callahan's, and in the shortest possible time thereafter were seated at a breakfast-table, which was indeed a pleasant pic- ture in its way. At this point in the story the editor of these papers laid down his pen, and gravely remonstrated with the narrator on the fre- quent recurrence of these extravagant and detailed accounts of breakfasts, dinners, and suppers. "It clogs the narrative," quoth he ; "it detracts from the dignity of the subject, and gives a com- monplace air to the adventures." Porte Crayon responded with heat: "I despise your squeam- ish, transcendental, metaphysical dyspectic who can't eat. I have no respect for sentimentality or sick people. There must be some- thing radically wrong either in the morale ov physique of a person who does not enjoy a good meal, and whose mouth don't water at a good description. Is Walter Scott deficient in interest? and are not his best books juicy with sirloins and venison pasties ? Does the eating scene between Cceur de Lion and Friar Tuck clog the narrative? Where will you find a more refreshing picture 158 PORTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. than that of the rustic repast served to the itinerant deities by old Baucis and Philemon ? Is Homer wanting in dignity ? Are not his feasts of gods and heroes, his boilings of mighty chines and barbecuing of fat oxen the very essence, or, more properly, the sauce of his world-famous epic"? Ah !" continued Porte, in a soft- ened tone, "none but a mountain wanderer knows how fondly memory will cling to these daily recurring incidents of travel. All your beatification about scenery, sunrises, et cetera, serves very well to fill up space between my drawings, and the scraps of Lat- in and French that you get out of school-books to bamboozle the public into a belief that you are learned ; but, depend upon it, nothing enriches a narrative like those touches of nature that would make a horse neigh with delight if he could only read." Reflecting, probably, that in his zeal he might have been rather personal in his remarks. Crayon paused for a moment, and then, giving us a furtive wink, observed, "By the way, P , I think there's the cold carcass of a wild turkey in the pantry ; let us go down and lunch." "Agreed." And so the dispute ended, and the description of the breakfast at Callahan's was passed over. As they intended to go on to the White Sulphur forthAvith, the horses were ordered immediately after breakfast, but, not ap- pearing in due time. Crayon walked back to the stable to ascertain the cause of the delay. Hearing a voice as of some one soHlo- quizing, he looked through a crevice in the logs, and there, to his surprise, saw Mice seated on a heap of straw in a vacant stall. He seemed deeply immersed in the study of some difficult prob- lem at cards, and, from time to time, dealt out hands to himself and an imaginary antagonist, and then would turn a trump, talk- HOUYHNHNM EEPAST. MICE'S DILEMMA. 159 ing all the while to himself. "Mist it dat time. Well, try agin. Ugh ! ugh ! Queen ! Ha ! dat won't do : cuss de luck ! I wish I dast ask Mass' Porte to larn me how to thumb a jack dat way he does ; it beats all!" Porte slipped back to the house quietly, and sent a servant to require Mice's imme- diate attendance with the carriage, which soon made its appearance ; and the party put themselves en route for the White Sulphur Springs. THE STUDENT. CHAPTER VIII. WHITE SULPHUR AND KOCKBRIDGE ALUM SPRINGS. From' Callahan's to the White Sulphur is a distance of sixteen miles ; and having arrived at Frazier's Hotel in time for dinner, our friends spent the afternoon in seeing what they could of that renowned watering-place. The season had been over for a month, and the principal estab- lishment was closed, although a few persons were yet lingering at Frazier's. It was impossible not to acknowledge the beauty of the situation and surrounding scenery, although a mountain wa- tering-place, deserted by its visitors and canopied with snow, is but a forlorn theme for pen or pencil. In the improvement of this place there has been but little effort at architectural embel- lishment, and, although the tout enseinhle is pleasing, the build- ings generally are mean, and built without taste or judgment. Colonel Hampton's house, Baltimore Row, and two or three iso- lated cottages, may be mentioned as exceptions. The noble fount- ain around which all these buildings are clustered, however grate- ful to the invalid, found but little favor with our travelers, as one glassful of the water served the whole party. On returning to their lodgings, chilled, and, sooth to say, somewhat dispirited, our friends gathered around a crackling fire, and began to discuss their future movements. Crayon quoted Solomon: " 'In the day of prosperity be joyful, in the day of adversity, consider.' Mark that, girls ; Solomon does not say, ' In the day of adversity be sad and downcast ;' he says, ' Consider' — consider, but be cheerful still. To this point we have followed our programme with great exact- ness, and our course from hence to the next great point of attrac- tion I had purposely left to be determined by circumstances. Cir- cumstances have arisen which render the most direct route advis- WHITE SULPHUE SPRINGS. 161 able ; and, indeed, in a country where every road leads to some spot of interest or beauty, it matters but little which we decide upon. However, we will not counsel to-night. Morning is the season of hope. In the morn- ing the soul is brave and buoy- ant. Well form our plans in the morning, and carry them through, if we break an axle in the attempt." Next morning Porte took a sketch of the locality, and then set forth his decision in regard to their movements. "We will return to Callahan's to-day," said he; "there we will bo well fed. From thence, b}' p Covington and Clifton Forge, £ to Lexington." g Porte spoke like one in au- ^ thority, and the girls agreed to g every thing with smiling faces, * so docile and acquiescent had they become since the snow- storm. Crayon's word was law, and he felt like a poten- tate. " woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made." And the poet might have add- ed, without spoiling the verse, " Striving by every art to rule, Willful as any pig or mule." But when beset with difficul- ties and dangers, how naturally and sweetly she nestles under the protecting wing of the sterner sex. L FANS OF PHEASANT&' TAILS. 162 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. "Cousin," whispered Minnie, "we must visit the Rockbridge Alum." "It is some distance off our route," replied Porte, knitting his brows. " But I want to go there," in- sisted she. "Then you shall go, darling! Ill write it on the programme ; but don't speak of it, d'ye hear." Their return to Callahan's was signalized by a bloody war upon the pheasants, which had collect- ed in great numbers to feed upon the wild grapes that bordered the road ; and when they got to their resting-place the carriage was loaded with game. Shortly after leaving their inn on the following morning, which by the journal was the 27th of October, they were overtaken by a rain, which continued with more or less violence during the whole day. A glance at Covington, as they hastened through, seemed sufficient to justify Mice's observation that "it was a 'mazin' or- 'nary-lookin' town ;" and during their passage of the gap at Clif- ton Forge they had glimpses of some grand scenery, although but dimly discerned through the falling torrents. Crayon was sorely tempted to stop, and take chances for a clear day on the morrow. He even went so far as to call a halt, and make inquiry of a swarthy forgeman as to the probability of their finding entertainment. Dora's dimpled fingers plucked him by the sleeve. "Porte, don't stop here; let us go on to the Rock- bridge Alum." He pretended not to notice her, but gave the or- der to drive on. With the rain disappeared all traces of the snow, and the swollen, turbid streams looked fearful through the crev- ices in the crazy bridges by which they were traversed. The road was lonesome enough as it wound over piny hills, dark, sloppy vales, and occasionally crossing a roaring brook of threatening as- pect. At length the gloom of an untimely twilight gathered round them, and the horses showed such signs of fatigue that they PRIVATE QTJAETEES. 163 could with difficulty be urged along. Mice declared that he would as lief turn a wheat-fan all day as drive such a team ; and it was unanimously resolved to take the first shelter that offered. It was not long before they saw a white cottage among the trees, surrounded with such out/-buildings as betokened some de- gree of prosperity. The carriage was accordingly drawn up at the door, and the demand for hospitality answered by a white-capped matron in a cordial affirmative. A couple of young negroes as- sisted Mice ia unloading the baggage, while Crayon transferred the live cargo to the shelter of the house. They were introduced into a large whitewashed room, the walls of which were ornament- ed with wreaths of cedar and lithographic prints from the presses of Nassau Street. Among these were portraits of the Presidents, scenes from the Mexican War, and the Virginia Beauty in a flam- ing red dress. A ne- f ^ "^ ) gro boy and girl were making all haste to kindle a fire with wet Avood, and a number of dripping, disconso- late dogs stared wist- fully in .at the open door ; but the ladies, mindful of Solomon's recommendation, did not look downcast, but wore a quiet, determ- ined air, as if, in the old-time phrase, each had resolved to "keep a stiff upper lip." — Crayon whistled as he busied himself drying his gun. "This looks jolly!" said he, eyeing the fire-place, from whence KINDLING THE FIRE. 164 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. rolled volumes of steamy smoke, that spread over the ceiling, and soon half filled the room. ," I don't see any thing particularly jolly about it," replied Fan- ny, in a firm tone. "Will it clear up. Porter "I think it will, Minnie." "Whenf " I can't tell, Cousin Dimple ; but I have always observed that when it rained it cleared up afterward." "I think exposure to the damp has rusted your wit, Cousin Porte, as well as your gun-lock." "Indeed, child, if you take the observation in a proper sense, there's both wit and philosophy in it." Dora intimated that smart people were sometimes very tire- some ; and Fanny observed that when one was wearied and un- comfortable, such answers appeared impolite, and, to say the least, she thought both the wit and philosophy rather untimely. Cray- on apologized for his wit, but insisted that philosophy was pecul- iarly necessary for the weary and dispirited ; something depend- ed, however, upon the manner in which it was served up. "If supper was served up," said Dora, "you might call your nonsense by any name you pleased." ' ' Ah, girls ! " began Mr. Crayon, ' ' you should read Epictetus : '■Souffrir avec patience., jouir avec 'moderation.'' " "Fiddlestick!" said Fanny. "Why didn't you quote that at breakfast this morning?" "It seems strange that those possessed of so large a stock of health, and surrounded with every circumstance of happiness, should permit themselves to be annoyed and made ill-humored by so slight a matter as a rain. The complaint of the Sybarite, who could not sleep because of a crumpled rose-leaf in his couch, is scarcely more absurd than what we hear daily on the subject of the weather. The farmer, indeed, may grieve over his blasted crops, and the mariner dread the coming storm. Where fortune and life may be at stake, it is but human to murmur. But to the butterflies of existence, how can it matter whether it rains, or snows, or blows, when the worst result to them is but the defeat A SEEMON ON THE WEATHER. 165 or postponement of some idle scheme of pleasure 1 Unless, in- deed, a man may have inconsiderately eaten and drunk himself into a fit of gout or inflammatory rheumatism — ^then he may curse the weather a little." "The orator descended a little toward the last, I think," said Fanny, laughing ; "like a lark, he flew high and lighted low." Dora asked when Porte intended to preach again ; and Minnie inquired if he meant to classify them with the butterflies. THE BUTTER FLIES. " Of that species," replied he, "that will make the butter fly when the time arrives." " Bah ! what a worn-out joke !" Porte was about lighting the match of an intellectual rocket, intended to carry confusion and dismay into the ranks of the en-- emy, when supper was announced. Peace and cheerfulness being thus restored, our friends were gathered around the blazing parlor fire, where, with needle, pen, and pencil, they busied themselves pleasantly enough. The circle was shortly enlarged by the pale, meek-eyed young woman who had done the honors of the table, and who appeared to be the daughter-in-law of the old couple. She seemed to think it her duty to entertain the strangers, but her subdued manner did not much enliven the conversation. Minnie, behindhand with her work, as usual, was engaged in finishing a pair of red socks for her doll. 166 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. "What cute little socks!" said the woman, regarding the work with interest. Minnie exhibited her doll. As the young matron held the toj- to the light, her eyes sparkled and her hand trembled. "Ho-u- pretty ! It is doubtless for some little girl. Miss ? How it will please her ! " Her evident emotion and eagerness readily suggested the cause of this admiration, and were irresistible to one of Minnie's gener- ous temper. "You must keep the doll, Madam," said she, "as a present for your little girl." A look of mortal agony overspread the young matron's face, and her lip quivered as she essayed to speak. " For me, Miss ? No — no — not for mine ! My child is dead !" And, covering her face with her hands, she hastened from the room. The sunlight streamed gloriously through the broken mass of cloud that hung upon the mountain sides, and Nature looked as if her face had just been washed, and not yet wiped. The car- riage was on hand betimes ; our travelers had taken their seats, and were laboring to stow away the cumbersome presents of ap- ples and chestnuts which Avere forced upon them by the kindly in- mates of the cottage. Just then they heard the splashing sound of a horse's feet, and the farmer's son, a stout young man of about five-and-twenty, rode up. " Stop, stranger ! You can't go on. The creek is roaring out of its banks. The ford, at best, is deep and rough ; but now it is all foaming and blocked up with drift-wood." Porte Crayon looked blank. "How far is it from here?" "Half a mile," was the response. " Then we will look at it ourselves." " Very well," replied the man ; "when you see it you'll be sat- isfied." They drove on, accompanied by the young man, who carried an axe on his shoulder. Arrived within sight of the stream, our hero looked blanker than ever. The crossing was just below a fall of some ten or twelve feet, while above and below the frantic torrent rushed between precipitous banks, unapproachable by horse CROSSING THE LOG. IQ'J or vehicle. A mass of foam and drift-logs, heaving and plunging with the force of the current, covered the site of the ford. The scene was wild and stirring, and, as Porte surveyed it, the blood mounted to his head. "Now, stranger, I suppose you're contented?" "We'll cross it," replied Porte. "And these young women—" "Can't leave them behind." "It looks like tempting Providence," said the young farmer, with kindling eye ; "but if you're bound to cross, I'm with you." He then showed them, a short distance below the ford, a rustic bridge, by which they might gain the opposite bank without the risk of passing in the carriage. To attain this bridge, the ladies were to be toted some distance across shallow water, and then were expected to walk a pine log that spanned the torrent, there about forty feet wide. The party descended from the carriage, and the farmer, throwing oif his coat, plunged into the water, and began lustily whacking at the drift-logs. What with the axe and Mice's strength, the trees, one after another, were sent rushing down the stream, and in half an hour that part of the difficulty was removed. The ladies, meanwhile, had surrounded Crayon, and so berated him for his rashness and obstinacy that he waded some distance into the water ^o get rid of them. "Now, girls, for the bridge !" "We can never walk it," cried they, "with that wild torrent below!" And with many protestations and exclamations of alarm, they were duly transported across the water, to the heap of rocks that constituted the nearer abutment. In vain Porte railed and en- couraged ; in vain he skipped to and fro across the log, with as- sumed nonchalance ; they clung together like bees hiving, and re- fused to move. Porte appealed to Fanny. "Come, my heroine, lead the way! Remember Elizabeth Zane, who ran from Fort Wheeling to the powder-house and back, across the fire of five hundred Indians. Come, show the pluck of your grandmother!" The blood began to glow in Fanny's face. 168 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. "Porte, stop with your buffoonery. I believe I could walk, if it were possible to keep from looking at the water." " Then here — give me your hands ; rest them upon my sides — thus. Keep your eyes fixed upon my glazed cap. Forward!" As they crossed with steady, mincing steps, " There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held their breath For a time." "Here we are!" said Porte, seating Fanny on a mossy rock. "It was nothing, after all." Minnie followed, and then Dora. "All safe !" shouted Cray- on, as this last sunk, pale and exhausted, beside her companions. "How her hands trembled!" CIIOSSINQ THE LOG. FOEDING THE TOEBENT. ^^c^ "Did mine tremble?" asked Fanny. "That they did,"' replied he; "and your cheeks have scarcely recovered their color yet." "And now, brother, as we are all over, you are surely not go- ing back ?" "Certainly." "What! to cross in the carriage r "Why not r " Indeed, you shall not go. Let the man drive it over. Give him money — reward him well. You shall not go back, positively. If you do, I'll certainly— What shall I do ?" "You may follow, if you think proper," said Porte, coolly, re- crossing the bridge. " If he's drowned," said she, despairingly, " it will be due to his own perversity ; and they may look for his body up-stream — it will never float with the current." s "Mice, will you cross in the carriage or on the log?" "I was jest a-thinkin', Massa," replied Mice, exhibiting consid- erable indecision in his manner, "if de carriage turns over, den I can't git out ; if I falls off de log, den I gits drownded. I never was much for walkin' logs no how." "Then get in the carriage." " 'Spose it washes over. Mass' Porte, den how?" "Go across the log, then, if you prefer it." "I say, Mass' Porte, does it wabble?" The body of the carriage was loaded with stones to serve as bal- last against the force of the current. The farmer stood in front, reins and whip in hand, ready for the start. Porte mounted be- side him, crack went the whip, and in plunged the horses. In a moment they were floundering in water which swept over their backs, and a foot deep in the carriage. The sorrel stumbled and disappeared entirely, the vehicle swayed and tilted, the men swung their weight against the current, the horse rose again from the foam, snorting and plunging. The driver lathered the horses and the waves alternately with the splintered whip-stock, while Porte poured forth his vocabulary of encouragement and abuse in a voice of thunder. Another tug. "Whoop! the roan is down — 170 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. we're tilting — no, she rights again ! " The roan emerges, rearing like a sea-horse. Again : " Lay to it, you bloody tackies !" The wheels rattled through the shallow water, and the steeds stood dripping and panting upon the farther shore. The girls hurried down the bank, breathless, to offer their congratulations, while Porte waved his cap, and drowned the voice of the waters with his triumphant shouts. ^^/? THE FORDINO, PAYING TOLL. 271 Mice, finding himself alone on the other shore, and roused, prob- ably, by the success of the passage, made a desperate rush at the bridge. He started upright, but, finding that the log or his head wabbled more than he anticipated, he sunk upon his hands and knees, and finally got astride and rode himself over. A careful examination of the vessel and cargo showed that they had received no damage beyond a wet trunk and a damp floor. Owing to some opportune holes in the bottom, the water had run out as fast as it had run in, and, for the rest, the carriage was all the better for a good washing. The stones were unloaded, and the legitimate proprietors restored to their places. The ladies gracefully took leave of the farmer, and the carriage went on its way. Porte Crayon tarried until they were out of hearing. "My friend," said he, "you have done me a great service, and done it gallantly. Permit me to offer you something in remuner- ation." The young man put back the proffered gold. " For money. Sir, I would not have done as much ; for the lady, I would be glad to have done much more — that one with the golden hair — may God bless her ! " Their road that day lay through a valley hemmed in by loft}' mountains — vale and mountain covered, for the most part, with the primeval forest ; while the clearings, with their rude huts, were few and far between. The way was a succession of mud- holes, rocks, and deep-washed gullies. Sometimes the swollen brooks from the mountains, leaving their own beds, took to the highway, and the horses went splashing through water over their fetlocks for half a mile at a time. Anon they were astonished by an apparition, significant of civilization, indeed, but wholly un- looked for in this region. This was nothing less than a toll-gate. ' ' What ! do they take tolls on such roads as this f "That's what I was put here for," replied the man, laughing. "Call dis a pike!" exclaimed Mice, swelling with indignation. "Hain't seed no mile-posses yit." "New road," answered the tollman. "Wot put up yet." The coachman, however, would accept no apologies, and, as he 172 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. drove forward, intimated to the mortified tax-gatherer that he had better take toll of those streams that were traveling down his road, as they were likely to use it up more rapidly than carriages. He went on to say that, if he " had druv over worser roads in Ole Virginny, he did grudge to pay money on sich a pike, whar' were no mile-posses." Crayon bade the coachman hold his peace, and took up the dis- course himself. He thought it as unphilosophic to complain of bad roads as of bad weather, for growling mended neither the one nor the other. "We are traveling in search of the picturesque," said he. " Good roads are by no means picturesque. We are looking for adventures. What chance for adventures on a smooth, well-beaten highway? Robbers and bandits have become obso- lete : there are rogues enough, to be sure, but not of the dramatic sort. Nowadays travelers are annoyed and disgusted, not fright- ened ; cheated, not robbed. Consequently, I look upon a bad road — not a dull succession of common mud-holes, that only serve to tire the horses, but a fine, romantic, dangerous road, such as strikes the imagination, with rocks, precipices, swollen streams to cross — " Here Crayon paused. "I think," said Fanny, "you were a great goose to go back and cross that ford in the carriage." "Fanny," said Crayon, with an air of dignity, " should I permit a stranger to incur a risk in my service that I feared to share my- self?" Fanny's face glowed with generous feeling, and her acquiescence in the sentiment was signified by silence. "As I have remarked, the race of robbers no longer exists." ' ' Bless de Lord, Massa, what kind of men is dem f At a little distance off, six men were seen issuing from the wood and advancing toward the carriage, by the road, in Indian file. Their appearance was such as might have justified any surmise in their regard that did not rank them as good citizens. Their weather-beaten faces were nearly hidden by slouched hats, long, matted locks, and shaggy beards. Their hunting-shirts and trowsers were of mountain jeans, colored with hickory bark, but torn, stained, and begrimed with dirt until the original dye was THE HUNTERS. almost invisible. Some wore deer-skin leggins, and carried packs, while every one was accoutred with a wicked-looking knife, pow- der-horn, and bullet- pouch, and carried at a slope or trail a long rifle. As this formi- dable company ap- proached, with that swinging stride pecu- liar to the mountain- eer, Mice turned of an ashy hue, and spas- modically drew up his horses. "S'pose dese is rob- bers, Massa Porte, what we gwine to do?" The forest was dark and lonely, and the suddenness of the ap- parition had taken Crayon quite off his guard. He began to entertain Mice's sug- gestion himself, and went so far as to push back the guard of his rifle-lock and loosen his knife in its sheath. " But what chance," said he, mentally, "for one man against six stalwart, well-armed ruffians ? All got knives, too. This black scoundrel is turning white ; he'll be of no use. Probably I'd better give up my money quietly, and be robbed before my ladies, just after having distinguished myself too ! No, by thunder, I won't ! It shall be no farce, but a trag- edy. At least that shag-eared villain in front shall bite the dust. Perhaps the others will run ; I hope so. Fanny," quoth he, aloud, "hand me the knapsack." "Do you want your book to sketch these queer-looking men?" THE HUNTERS 174 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. asked Fanny, innocently, as Porte fumbled in the sack for his re- volver. "Probably I may," replied he, with emotion. By this time the men were beside the carriage, but, instead of any hostile demonstration, they saluted the travelers civilly and passed on. "Done gone by, and never toch us !" quoth the coachman, draw- ing a long breath ; " and dere's a deer's tail and hind legs sticking out of he's bundle." "To be sure," said Porte, greatly relieved; "they are hunters. I might have known that from the first. Mark them, girls ; they resemble very much our party on their return from the great ex- pedition to the Blackwater." After this adventure the girls fell a-dozing, and Crayon fell into a philosophic reverie on the nature of courage and the motives of human action. However worthy of being written many of his reflections may have been, they were of too metaphysical a char- acter to find a place in this unpretending narrative. Moreover, as the pen of the historian is scarcely adequate to the task of re- lating what our travelers saw and accomplished on this eventful journey, it can not be expected to tell all they thought at the same time. Even while they snoozed and dreamed, they were startled by a cracking noise about the running gear of their vehi- cle. A close inspection ascertained that it proceeded from the fore-axle, which was giving way under the rude and repeated shocks it had received that day. To avoid an absolute smash, it was deemed advisable to perform the rest of the day's journey on foot ; nor were the ladies disheartened when a countryman told them it wanted yet four miles to their place of destination. Early in the afternoon they espied a cluster of buildings peep- ing from among the trees, nestled deep in a little cove at the foot of a high mountain. This, as they guessed, was the Rockbridge Alum, and cheerily was its appearance greeted. Notwithstand- ing the lateness of the season, they still found some lingering vis- itors, whose politeness and agreeable manners added much to the pleasure of their short sojourn. "While the ladies were indebted to the gallantry of two gentle- ROCKBRIDGE ALUM. 175 ROCKBRIDGE ALUM. men for a game of ten-pins, Crayon climbed the cliff, and was soon absorbed in his favorite occupation. These springs are situated in the northwestern part of Rock- bridge county, on the main turnpike-road leading from Lexington to the Warm Springs, by which route they are usually approached from east or west. The buildings are generally of brick, substan- tially built and well arranged. To the eye it is one of the pleas- antest places in the mountains. The character of the water is very like that of the Bath Alum, although chemists and physi- cians have discovered some difference in its analysis and applica- tion to diseases. The water is obtained in the same manner, by collecting the drippings from a slate cliff in little reservoirs of stone and cement. The cliff here, however, is more imposing in 176 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. appearance, being eighty or nine- ty feet in height and nearly per- pendicular. Viewed from the summit of this bank, the lawn, inclosed by a semicircle of cottages, partial- ly shaded with trees, its green carpet dotted with groups of gayly-dressed visitors, presents a pleasing and animated picture. The water in barrels and demi- johns, and pills manufactured from its solid contents, are ex- tensively exported from this place, and bring a considerable revenue to the proprietors. The journey from this place to Lexington, over a well-graded road, was unmarked by any cir- circumstance worthy of record either by pen or pencil, except, indeed, the appearance of the House Mountains, around the bases of which they passed. This isolated and curious group rises to a considerable height above the surrounding country, and is seen and remarked from a great distance. The outlines of the mountains resemble those of Virginia barns, or of old-fashioned hipped-roof houses. Hence the name. Tlie town of Lexington is beautifully situated on an eminence in the midst of the great- valley, and its horizon is bounded on all sides by blue mountains, whose outlines are uncommonly diversi- fied and pleasing. It is tolerably well built for a Virginia town, and can boast itself of two colleges and a law school, to say noth- ing of a well-kept and roomy hotel. The buildings of Washington College are strung out upon a ridge in the suburbs of the town ; and the architecture of stucco and brick, although not strictlv classical in its forms or colors, ALUM CLIFF. THE MILITARY INSTITUTE. I'jj stands in beautiful relief against the deep-blue background afford- ed by the House Mountains. This institution, like the name and principles of its great namesake, seems to be drifting out of pub- lic notice and esteem. A few hundred yards beyond, on the same ridge, stands the Military Institute, whose castellated walls and towers are properly in character with its purposes, and contrast agreeably with the Italian forms of its neighbor. The Institute, being under the patronage of the State, seems in a prosperous con- dition ; and it is a pleasant sight to see the long array of tight little cadets marching into church or going through their daily ex- ercises on the parade-ground, and still more agreeable to witness the manly courtesy with which they receive and do the honors of the place to strangers, and the air of order and subordination that reigns through the whole establishment. The proximity of these institutions, governed by different sys- tems of education, may properly lead to some general reflections on the subject. It matters little in this age of books what routine may be marked out for the intelligent pupil, the prescribed course of any college or high-school, if properly followed, would furnish a sufiicient foundation for whatever superstructure of learning or science might afterward be raised thereon. But in the slovenly regulations and lax discipline of most schools the paramount les- son of life is disregarded. The graduate returns to the paternal mansion with a smattering of the classics, some premature vices, and a little froth of philosophy, mixed with great bubbles of con- ceit, rather confused ideas of mathematical harmonies, and a spirit of insubordination that is likely to make him a nuisance to him- self and society for a long time afterward. But those wholesome lessons of obedience, which give manliness and dignity to the char- acter, and teach each one the necessity and greatness of being a law unto himself, where are they taught systematically ? The military system alone seems to attach sufficient importance to this leading principle, and to enforce habits of obedience and deference to superiors. The youth are taught that in subordina- tion lies the point of honor, and the lesson, gilded with the pomp and trappings of military parade, is learned with greater facility, and becomes more permanently fixed upon the character. What M X78 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. effect this system, generally applied, might have in checking the tendency to impertinence and lawlessness in a future generation of young Americans, we leave to — Who shall we leave it to ? Crayon rubbed his forehead, and looked puzzled. " Mr. Crayon seems to be turning reformer." "Does it seem so? Then, on consideration, you may scratch out all that stuif ; I'd as lief be taken for a thief." "Even worse than a common reformer, you have advocated turning the cog-wheel backward, and have uttered heresies against the spirit of the age and the everlasting laws of progress," " Have I so ? Then let it stand." CHAPTER IX. THE NATURAL BRIDGE. From Lexington our travelers pursued their journey for ten or twelve miles over an indifferent plank road, and about midday had the pleasure of lunching on cakes and beer with the old wom- an who keeps the toll-gate. At this point they left the main thor- oughfare and turned their horses' heads eastward, toward the Nat- ural Bridge. CAKES AND BEER. A drive of five or six miles brgught them to the end of then- day's journey ; and with baskets, shawls, and other accessories, they were soon in full possession of the old-fashioned sitting-room at the Bridge Hotel. Porte Crayon sat at one of the windows, to all appearance oblivious of the present, and humming that de- lectable air of Bellini's, "Ft ravviso, 0! luoghi ameni.'''' Had he been less abstracted and more considerate, he must have ob- 180 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. served the fluttering, restless demeanor of his more youthful com- panions, for cold indeed must be that fancy, and impassive that soul, that can approach this far-famed wonder without emotion. "Cousin, is the bridge near at hand?" Porte started up, apologizing for his forgetfulness, and inti- mated to the ladies that if they would walk with him a short dis- tance, they might have a distant glimpse of the bridge without delay. Starting from the tavern door, they followed the public road by a gentle ascent for sixty or eighty paces, Avhen they came to a gate. Here Crayon entered, and, taking Minnie by the arm, he pushed aside the branches of an arbor vitte, and led her for- ward several paces, until they reached a sort of rocky barrier. ' ' Look down, cousin ! " She shrieked, and would have fallen but for the support of her companion, who hastily withdrew her from the spot, and seated her, all pale and trembling, under the shade of an evergreen. "What's the matter? What is it?" inquired the others, with alarmed eagerness. "Oh, Porte, how could you do it! The bridge! the bridge! we're on the bridge ! It was terrible !" On hearing this, Fanny and Dora looked wildly about, as if seeking some place of refuge, and finally fled through the gate by which they had entered, and only halted when they had gained the middle of the highway. "Come back, you silly creatures !" "No, no, not for the world! we would not go on it again." "Don't you know that you are on it now?" Dora would have taken to her heels again, but Fanny stopped her. "Don't mind Porte's quizzing," said she. "Don't you see we are in the public road, and not on any bridge ?" Porte succeeded in capturing the runaways, and holding them securely before he gave the information, explained to them that they then stood over the centre of the arch, and yet so entirely hidden was the chasm which it spanned, by the natural parapets of rocks and trees, that he had himself seen persons pass over without being aware of it. Then, by dint of fair promises, he in- duced his captives to return to the point of view. THE HEROINE. 181 V "No tricks, brother; no surprises!" "Ton honor, none; I was too much frightened at the result of my last to try another." He then led the ladies, one at a time, to the parapet, where on their hands and knees they ventured to look over the brink into that awful chasm which few have nerve sufficient to view from an upright position. Fanny attempted it, holding to her brother's arm, but found she could endure it only for a moment, when her dizzy brain and trembling knees warned her to desist. Crayon looked long and earnestly into the abyss, bounded by dark im- pending cliffs of jagged limestone, festooned with rich wreaths of arbor vitas, the most beautiful of all the tribe of evergreens. " Girls, come here ; observe that decayed cedar stump project- ing from a crevice in the rock, over the cen- tre of the chasm there, two hundred and twen- ty feet in depth by the line." It was cut or sawed off even with the top of the bridge, and presented a flat surface about twelve inches in diameter, and distant two feet or more from the par- apet. " Once upon a time, so I was told, a young lady, a Miss , stepped out and stood with both feet on that stump. Her female friend who was with her fainted out- right, while the hero- ine waved her scarf, THE HEROINE. aud bkw kisses to the 182 PORTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. beaux who stood aghast behind the parapet. When I was twenty years younger, I had the hardihood, or rather the folly, to place one foot upon that same stump, and remain in that position for some moments. I had. a great mind to try it with both feet, but was restrained by the philosophic reflection that, after all, I was emulating a woman, and could only surpass her by breaking my neck, which I had no mind to do at that time, to say nothing of the probability of the whole story being a lie." Here Porte Crayon fell into a soliloquy. "The very recollec- tion makes me shudder now. Are my nerves less firm than of yore ? or is it merely want of usage ? ' The native hue of reso- lution sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ;' of, as plain people say, ihaybe I've got more sense now!" Crayon took a stick and commenced poking the stump, which appeared to be entirely decayed. "It wouldn't bear stepping on now, at any rate," he muttered. "It is a mere shell." "Brother, what are you meditating? Surely not to set foot on that stump V "No, child, nothing of the kind. ' Days of my youth, I mourn not your decay.' Days of fevered blood and sickly fancies, of restless anticipation and disappointed hopes, of cankered blossoms and sour fruit, of warring with phantoms and worshiping of shadows. Wretched indeed must be his manhood who looks back with regret, and would recall the days of his youth. Probably few would sin- cerely wish to roll back the wheels of time, and the frequent ex- pression of the sentiment is nothing more than one of the forms of cant with which the world is pleased to express its chronic dis- content. . For me, thrice blessed is the calm current of maturity ; and one of the chiefest joys of manhood is the reflection that I am no longer a boy — that my bark has descended the headlong brawl- ing torrent, bruised and battered indeed, but still afloat, to return no more." Whether the foregoing are Mr. Crayon's standing sentiments, or whether they were the result of his peculiar position at the time, we can not positively say. But any man who is command- er-in-chief of a good carriage and a pair of stout horses, the pos- THE NATURAL BRIDGE. 5^33 sessor of a sound stomacli and a plump purse, and sole guardian to three uncommonly pretty and interesting girls, two of them cousins to boot, may be excused for speaking in praise of that particular time of life, and in disparagement of all others. Ah ! old fox, which of those sweet cousins was it that, some days back, possibly in Lexington, leaned softly on thine arm, and said " she detested boys f and wherefore, since that day, hast thou combed thy beard so broad, descanted so complacently and poetically on the superiority of a full-blown intellect, and been at such pains to plucjc two coarse gray hairs from each of thine eyebrows ? It appearing that there still remained several hours of day- light, our friends determined to visit the bridge below, where they were assured they might enjoy the grandeur of the scene unmixed with terror. Following their leader down a rapidly descending path which wound around the abrupt point of a hill, they presently entered a grove of noble evergreens, and on emerging from this all stood still with one accord. In front and below them was the yawning gorge, rugged and wild, clothed as it were in sombre shadows, through which the light glanced from the cascades of Cedar Creek with faint and trembling sheen. Above, with its outline of tree and rock cutting sharp against the blue sky, rose the eternal arch ; so massive, yet so light it springs, uniting its tremendous but- tresses high in mid air, while beneath its stern shadow the eye can mark, in fair perspective, rocks, trees, hill-tops, and distant sailing clouds. There are few objects in nature which so entirely fill the soul as this bridge in its unique and simple grandeur. In con- sideration of the perfection of its adaptation to circumstances, the simplicity of its design, the sublimity of its proportions, the spec- tator experiences a fullness of satisfaction which familiarity only serves to increase ; and while that sentiment of awe inseparable from the first impression may be weakened or disappear altogeth- er, wonder and admiration grow with time. Continuing their descent, our friends reached the banks of the stream, and passed beneath the arch, pausing at every step to feast their eyes upon the varying aspects in which the scene was pre- sented. Crossing Cedar Creek under the bridge, they gained a 184 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. THE NATURAL BRIDGE. point above on tlie stream, from whence the view is equally fine with that first obtained from the descending path on the opposite side. This picture exhibits the turn of the arch to greater ad- vantage. Then the flanking row of embattled cliffs, their sides wreathed with dark foliage, and their bases washed by the stream, forms a noble addition to the scene. THE NATURAL BRIDGE. 185 VIEW OF BRIDGE, UPPER SIDE. The average height of these cliffs is about two hundred and fifty feet, the height of the bridge about two hundred and twenty. The span of the arch is ninety-three feet, its average width eighty, and its thickness in the centre fifty-five feet. It does not cross the chasni precisely at right angles, but in an oblique direction, like what engineers call a skew bridge. While the cliffs are perpendic- ular, and in some places overhanging, the abutments under the arch approach until their bases are not more than fifty feet apart. At ordinary times the stream does not occupy more than half this space, although from its traces and water-marks it frequentlj' sweeps through in an unbroken volume, extending from rock to rock. The' top of the bridge is covered with a clay soil to the depth of several feet, which nourishes a considerable growth of trees, generally of the evergreen species. These, with masses of rock, serve to form natural parapets along the sides, as if for greater security, and entirely obscure the view of the chasm from the passer. It is now further protected by lines of board fencing, placed there by the owner of the property. Although this pre- caution is rather distasteful to a lover of the picturesque, yet it 18g PORTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. detracts but little from the general view, every thing being on so grand a scale that they are scarcely observed. As our friends became familiarized with the objects around them, conversation began to resume its sway, and Crayon, as cice- rone of the party, began to recall the traditionary anecdotes and minor wonders with which every place of this sort abounds. He pointed out the route by which a man is said to have climbed up the cliffs, and not the bridge, as is commonly supposed. He also robbed the story of its superhuman attributes by expressing his belief that any cool-headed man accustomed to climbing — a sailor, for instance — could do the same thing easily. He had even at- tempted it himself; but on attaining an elevation of thirty or forty feet, he began to perceive how things looked " to a man up a tree," and concluded to descend. He then pointed out the spread eagle which is pictured on the under side of the arch, scratching the eyes out of the British Lion, all of which the ladies were patri- otic enough to see plainly ; although Dora, who had lately been reading history, puzzled Crayon by asking whether he thought the picture was there before the Revolution. He got out of the difficulty by saying that if it was there prior to the separation, it must have been prophetic ; but as it was formed by the growth of moss, it might have come out since the wars. Indeed, by look- ing a while steadily, and allowing a little latitude to the fancy, one may see a great many things that hitherto have not been re- marked. For example, in the eagle's other claw there appears to be a scroll upon which is mapped a number of the golden prov- inces of a neighboring republic, while she appears to be endeavor- ing to swallow a long, irregularly-shaped object that resembles an island. "Your eagle," quoth Fanny, "seems to be something of a cor- morant." Porte went on to point out the spot where Washington is said to have written the initials of his name, although he confessed he had never been able to make them out. Aft^r considering the spot attentively, Fanny declared she did not believe that any mor- tal could have reached it Avithout a ladder, and Dora said that, while she knew from her history that Washington was a great AN EARLY ADVENTURE. joj general and statesman, she never heard that he could climb better than other people. Minnie observed that, for her part, she had always felt averse to hearing such stories about Washington, or to believing he had ever done any thing so childish. It seemed rather a derogation from the dignity of his character, who had written his name so high upon "The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar." As they were grouped around the hostel fire that night. Crayon intimated to the ladies that he might be persuaded to relate an adventure which befell him in the neighborhood during his first visit to the bridge. As the proposition met with cordial appro- bation, he commenced as follows : "In the fall of 1834 I made a pedestrian tour — to which you have sometimes heard me allude — in company with my friend, Jack Rawlins. Our route was nearly the same which we have followed, and on our arrival here we were entertained in the room which we now occupy. I remember every thing as if it had been but yesterday. The house was temporarily in charge of a couple of youths not much older than their guests, and who, for the sake of convenience, I shall call Bob and Tom Johnson, although, in truth, I do not recollect their real names. But you must bear in mind that the names are the only fictions made use of in the nar- rative. While we were studying the bridge, I heard, with emu- lous breast, of the feats of General Washington, Miss , and the nameless man who climbed the cliff, and was burning to write my name somewhere, whether in the Temple of Fame or the Booth of Folly it mattered little, for at that age I ranked the heroine of the stump and the successful cliff-climber with the founder of universities and the leader of armies. " One night the elder of our entertainers happened to speak of a wonderful cavern that was in the neighborhood. He described it as a great opening like a well, near the top of a hill several miles distant. It had never been explored, nor even fathomed, and was an object of mingled curiosity and terror to all who knew of it, and many were the stories and traditions connected with its fame. It was said that, during the Revolutionary war, chests of money had been thrown into it to secure them from Tarleton's 188 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. thieving dragoons, and the owners, having been slain in battle, had, of course, never returned to clain^i the treasures. Men and cattle that disappeared from the country were all accredited to this mysterious hole, and murderers were suspected of throwing the bodies of their victims therein for better concealment, al- though Bob frankly acknowledged that since his day there had been no one murdered thereabout that he knew of He went on to say that on many a Sunday he had amused himself, with some of the bolder* spirits of the neighborhood, in throwing rocks and log^ into its yawning mouth, and listening with awe to the hollow crash and booming reverberations that followed. 'No one has ever dared to descend,' said he; 'and, indeed, I should be sorry to see any one undertake it.' My feelings during this narrative resembled those of St. George when he found the dragon's nest. Here was a dragon indeed worthy of my daring. ' Bah ! ' said I, affecting Carelessness — for I was bursting with anxiety lest some one might go down into the hole before I could get to it in the morning — 'Pshaw! I will descend and explore this wonderful place, if you will only point it out to me to-morrow morning.' The young man looked at me with an expression of mingled ter- ror and incredulity. Jack Rawlins began to protest, when Tom laughingly remarked that he need not be uneasy ; he'd warrant that I'd go no farther than the mouth. ' There, you've settled the matter, ' cried Jack, in despair ; ' he'd go now, if it was the mouth of the bottomless pit.' " Bob took an early opportunity to call me aside, and with a countenance playing between eagerness and doubt, asked if I seri- ously intended to do what I had said. I assured him of my de- termination. ' "Well, stranger, if perhaps you should find those chests of money — ' Here he paused warily. ' Oh, we'll divide, of course, ' said I, ' we four. ' ' Certainly, ' he replied, with delight ; 'that's no more than fair. We will show you the way and as- sist in letting you down ; but we must keep dark about it, for the place belongs to a stingy old fellow, who would go crazy if he heard of our enterprise, and would claim every thing we might happen to find.' Although I set but little store upon the imag- ined treasures, I was ready enough to amuse myself with the FACILE DESCENSUS AVEENI. ^gg golden hopes of my host or to bedevil any stingy old fellow at a venture, and it was arranged in full council that we should start after an early breakfast next morning. "Whether I slept well or ill, or what was the character of my dreams that night, I do not remember ; but I do recollect that in the cool of the morning, during the secret preparation of ropes and lights, some awkward misgivings began to sneak into the castle of my determination. But I was fully committed, and my native pride, assisted by the stimulus of a rapid walk of several miles, brought me to the scene of action in such high condition that I surveyed the black mouth of the awful pit without a tre- mor. "'Young man,' said Bob Johnson, significantly, 'I reckon you'll not venture?' I stiffened up, and to this implied doubt made scornful answer, ' Do you think, sir, that I would walk all this distance, with a pack of ropes and candles, merely to look down into a hole in the ground ? Get your ropes ready. ' "The bed-cords were unrolled, and a short stout stick, like a well-digger's horse, tied to the end of one of them. A couple of sound fence-rails were then procured and cautiously laid across the centre of the opening, which was eight or ten feet in diameter. In the mean time I had taken off my coat, tied a handkerchief about my waist, when Jack Rawlins suggested that although we had taken the precaution to measure the depth of the cavern, we had forgotten to try whether it contained bad air. This sugges- tion was immediately acted upon. The lantern with a lighted candle was attached to the end of a cord and. lowered until it touched the bottom, from whence it was drawn up after a few minutes, still burning. The experiment was reckoned satisfac- tory. Jack Rawlins shook hands with me and said, 'Well, Porte, I've done my best to prevent you going on this fool's er- rand ; all I can do now is to wish you good luck.' I was getting impatient, and chid my lagging assistants, who seemed loth to be- gin ; but at length every thing was arranged. I bestrode the stick and gave the coil of rope to the two Johnsons ; another rope I knotted around my waist, put it in charge of Rawlins, and then, with lantern in hand, slid to the opening. Steadying my- 190 POETE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. self with, one hand on the rock and the other on the rail, I swung off, crying, ' Now keep cool, boys, and lower away ! ' ADVENTURE TWEMTY YEARS SINCE. "Down I went steadily enough for a time, griping the cords with one hand, the lantern with the other, and pushing myself clear of the black, slimy rocks with my feet and elbows. For the first thirty or forty feet the opening was walled around like a well, IN AVEENO. 191 but presently I swung clear of every thing ; the cords, which were new, began to untwist, and I whizzed round like a teetotum. ' Lower away, boys ! ' I shouted, for I had become so dizzy that I could neither see nor hear. After a time I stopped with a bump. ' The rope's run out ! " cried a voice so high and faint that it sound- ed like the note of a wild goose. ' All's well ! I have arrived safe.' ' ' As I recovered from my dizziness, I disengaged myself from the ropes and looked about me. I was seated upon the; apex of a pyramid of mossy rocks and decayed logs, which rose in the centre of a black cavern of unknown dimensions. I seemed to be walled around with thick darkness, and the opening through which I had descended shone above me like a moon in an inky firmament. Taking the candle, I descended from my resting- place and proceeded to explore my newly- discovered empire. The feeble rays of my tallow dip revealed nothing more than an irregular floor of moist clay and walls of limestone rock, covered here and there with a few dull, dirty incrustations. After groping about two thirds of the way around this circular hall, I found an arched opening about the size of an ordinary doorway. Into this passage I penetrated with difficulty for twenty or thirty yards, when my heels flew from under me, and I slid, I can not tell how far, down into what seemed, by the sense of touch, to be a bed of soft mud. It is needless to say I lost my can- dle in the fall, and was left in utter darkness. Here was a predicament for a hero. Above, below, on every side, I felt noth- ing but slimy mud. I feared to move, lest I might sink into some deeper quagmire. " I was not so much alarmed at first, but, as my body began to chill, my heart sunk with the temperature of my blood. I began to calculate the chances of escape. ' If I am not forthcoming in due time, will Jack Rawlins come to my assistance "? will any, one YOUTH S FORWARD SLIP. 192 POBTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. come 1 Portentous question. Is not this cavern the bugbear of the country, and will my disappearance serve to allay that terror T Oh, powers of mud, the heroic spirit was subdued within me — no ! not all subdued ; the idea occurred to me that possibly a cry for help might reach the ears of my companions and hasten my re- lief. But pride forbade ; I resolved to die first. "Anon I began to fancy that I could see the walls of my prison and the passage through which I had fallen, and soon the doubt brightened into reality. My eyes, becoming accustomed to the darkness, had begun to take in the feeble light that was reflected from the main cavern. Cautiously I crawled up the slippery as- cent, and in a few minutes re-entered the hall, which appeared so light that I Could see over its whole extent without the aid of a candle. I scraped myself as well as I could, and then looked about for the chests of gold and dead men's bones. My search was unsuccessful, and I concluded they must be concealed under the pyramid of rubbish which had been thrown down the open- ing, and for aught I know they may be there at this day. I took no very accurate observation as to the size of the cavern, but guessed it was about one hundred feet in diameter, the same as its depth, which we ascertained by measuring the ropes. "I called to my friends above that I wished to ascend, and re- ceived the prompt reply that all was ready. Mounting my wood- en horse, I carelessly drew the other cord around my body with- out even tying it, and ordered them to hoist away. No sooner was I clear of the bottom than the spinning motion recommenced, and continued with such rapidity that I presently lost all cogni- zance, of things around me. A sharp bump on the head advised me of my arrival at the ledge, and I eagerly grasped at the rock, but the projection shelled off and crashed into the gulf below. 'Pull, boys, pull!' I was drawn up several feet ; then there was a pause, and I was lowered again out of reach of the rock, and the dangerous whirling was renewed. Dizzy as I was, I divined the cause of the difficulty. My friends were working at the two ropes on opposite sides of the pit, and the new cords had become twisted together until they could no longer separate them, and I consequently remained dangling in the air. Nor was this all. In EEVOCAEE GRADUM, ETC. j^gg their fright and confusion the Johnsons threw down their rope, and seemed ready to take to their heels. Eawlins, however, plant- ed himself against a rock, and with straining sinews held on until he perceived the stone against which he was propped slowly mov- ing from its position. It lay upon the declivity near the mouth of the cave, and if it had rolled must inevitably have gone down the opening. Just at that moment they heard my order to put the ropes together and all pull on the same side. Such was their want of presence of mind that this simple idea had not occurred to them before. The Johnsons seized the cord, ran to the other side, and the trio pulled with renewed vigor. With such energy was I now dragged up, that my knees, elbows, and shoulders were bruised and lacerated by the sharp rocks, and when I was within twenty feet of the top the stick upon which I rode slipped from under me, and I held on by my hands alone. Upon that grip hung life or death. I knew it. The blood started from my fin- ger ends, but my nerves were firm. Presently I found myself landed in the upper regions, and, before I relaxed my grasp, or my half-phrensied comrades considered me safe, I was dragged a hundred feet from the mouth of the cavern. For several minutes all were silent, and sat pale and exhausted, panting like overdone hounds. The first greeting I received was from Bob Johnson. ' You blasted fool, ' cried he, ' I've a mind to club you within an inch of your life. I never was so scared." Tom swore he would not pull another man up from that hole for all the gold in Rock- bridge. "As for me, I sat for some time in a state of profound physical and mental apathy, the usual result of excitement and violent ex- ertion. When at length I rose to start homeward, I found that I moved with difficulty, and could not put on my coat without as- sistance. Although I managed to walk back to the hotel, it was several days before I could use my hands as usual. At supper I was ravenous, and the desperate efibrts I made to handle my knife and fork were ludicrous enough. "And thus ends the story of that perilous adventure." "And," exclaimed Fanny, "I never heard of any thing so ab- surd. I don't wonder the young man threatened to club you. I N X94 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. was myself ready to boil over with indignation at your obstinacy in going down." "Ah! Fanny, you women don't understand these things. A certain amount of glorification is necessary to boys as well as na- tions. Boys must slay their dragons, and nations have their wars. If their hands and heads ache for it, so much the better ; they are both likely to be more rational, at least for some time afterward." "And did you never think of it afterward, cousin, and shudder at the dangers you escaped V asked Minnie. "Yes, indeed, and for many a night after I had evil dreams ; sometimes fancying I was a spider swinging by a single invisible thread, and at others a mud-turtle, lying on my back and smoth- ering in my native element." "And what had your friends, the Johnsons, to say about the money f "They scarcely referred to the subject afterward. Their curi- osity was satisfied, and they seemed sufficiently pleased with the termination of the afi"air. "Now, Dora," said Porte Crayon, pinching the sleeper's dim- pled cheek, "what comments have you to make on my story!" "Gracious !" exclaimed she, with a start, "I must have been asleep." "You dropped off about the time I was floundering in the mud at the bottom of the cave. Thank you. Cousin Dimple, for your attention and sympathy with my dangers and afflictions." "Ah! Porte, excuse me ; I couldn't help it. But how did you get out of that dreadful place f I must have gone off in a dream, for I thought you had found a great many chests of gold and jew- elry, and beautiful shawls, and that you had presented each of us with charming sets of pearls, diamonds, and mosaic — bracelets, ear-rings, and all — and such splendid Turkish shawls, and silks of such lovely colors." "With such a dream as that, sweet cousin, you were better en- tertained than in listening to me. Good-night, girls." As they retired, Fanny struck up, rather appropriately, " Go thou and dream o'er that joy in thy slumber." Next day our friends revisited each point of view above and VIEW OF THE BRIDGE. 195 NATURAL BRIDGE. DISTANT VIEW. below the bridge with increased gratification, while Crayon em- ployed himself in the attempt to portray its most striking features upon tinted paper. This, he avers, can not be accomplished by mortal hand ; for while he acknowledges he has seen several sketches that rendered the general outline and even minute details with great accuracy, he never saw one that conveyed, even in a remote degree, any idea of the majestic grandeur of the original. One of the most satisfactory views is obtained from a hill side about half a mile below the bridge. From this point the perfec- tion of the arch is more remarkable ; and there is a fine view of the hill, which, a short distance to the right of its ape^f, is cleft to its base by this singular chasm. The most rational hypothesis which has been advanced in re- gard to the formation of this wonderful structure is that this hill was formerly perforated by one of the limestone caverns common in this region, and that by the combined action of water and force of some earthquake the superincumbent masses have fallen in, leav- ing the chasm open to the day, except where the arch now stands. 196 PORTE CEAYON AND HIS COUSINS. Another view well worth attention is that from the cliffs in the tavern yard. These upper views are per- haps more impress- ive than any other, as combining more of the terrible with the sublime. It was doubtless from this quarter that Mice got his impres- sions, when,~ in reply to some questions, he told Miss Fanny "it was de quarest place he had seed yit," and he supposed " it mought have been built by the devil." As the Piersons, man and wife, are the most kindly and oblig- ing of hosts, the table delightfully served, and, according to the coachman's account, the oats are unexceptionable, it may be well to leave our travelers to their repose for a season. VIEW FKOM THE CLIFF. THE CROWN OF OTTER. CHAPTER X. THE GREAT VALLEY. There is perhaps no fairer land beneath the sun than that sec- tion of Virginia called the Great Valley. Bounded by the North Mountain on the northwest, and the Blue Ridge on the southeast, it extends across the state from the Potomac to the southern line, nearly two hundred and fifty miles in length, and varying from twenty to forty in breadth. Through its northern portion the Shenandoah pursues its regular and orderly course along the base of the Ridge, while, farther south, the Upper James, the Staunton, and New Rivers wind in tortuous channels across the Valley, cut- ting sheer through the mountain barriers east and west, and flow- ing in opposite directions toward their respective receivers. 198 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. Leaving to the geographer and political economist the task of setting forth the agricultural and mineral resources of this happy region, its healthful and invigorating atmosphere, its abundance, even to superfluity, in all the good things that make it a desirable residence for man, we turn, with the instincts of painter and poet, from advantages more strictly utilitarian, to rejoice in the match- less gift of beauty with which Heaven has endowed this "deli- cious land" — not the evanescent bloom of flowering savannas, nor the wild but chilling grandeur of Alpine rocks and snows. This is a picture — soft and luxuriant, yet enduring as the everlasting hills — of rolling plains and rich woodlands, W3,tered by crystal streams, enriched with rare and curious gems wrought by the plas- tic hand of Nature, as if in wanton sport, sparkling waterfalls, fairy caverns, the unique and wondrous Bridge, all superbly set in an azure frame of mountains,. beautiful always, and sometimes ris- ing to sublimity. The first authentic account we have of the discovery of this Valley is from an expedition which crossed the Ridge in 1710, planned and commanded by Alexander Spotswood, then govern- or of the colony of Virginia. In noticing this event, Burkq, the historian, says : "An opinion had long prevailed that these mountains presented an everlasting barrier to the ambition of the whites. Their great height, their prodigious extent, their rugged and horrid appearance, suggested to the imagination undefined images of terror. The wolf, the bear, the panther, and the Indian were the tenants of these forlorn and inaccessible precipices." To one familiar with mountain scenery these sounding phrases seem like gross exaggeration when applied to the wooded and gen- tle slopes of the Blue Ridge, which seldom rise beyond a thou- sand or twelve hundred feet above its base. But every thing in the world is estimated by comparison, and the good people from the lower country, in the early times, doubtless viewed this mod- est ridge with mingled awe and wonder. It may also aff"ord some entertainment to the western Virginian to receive the following interesting piece of information from a book, pleasantly entitled " Modern History ; or, the present State of all Nations," printed at Dublin in 1793 : "There are no mount- THE GREAT VALLEY. I99 ains in Virginia, unless we take in the Apalachian Mountains, which separate it from Florida." This, too, in a volume publish- ed twenty-nine years after Spottswood's expedition, and several years after actual settlements had been made in the Valley. As early as 1732, adventurous emigrants from New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania had made their way to the newly-ex- plored region ; and during the reign of James the Second the Val- ley settlements received considerable accessions from the north of Ireland. Thus the Scotch-Irish and German elements form the basis of the Valley population, and the manners and characteristics of the people, although modified by the connection and intermixture with the lower country, still very much resemble those of the Middle States. In following our travelers on their interesting tour, we have traversed consecutively the counties of Berkeley, Frederick, War- ren, Shenandoah, Rockingham, and Augusta. Thence passing the North Mountain boundary at Jennings's Gap, we have visited Bath, Alleghany, and Greenbrier, in the Alleghany region, and, returning to the Valley by Clifton Forge, have passed through Rockbridge and Botetourt. In this last-mentioned county we again overtake the carriage, toiling slowly up the western slope of the Blue Ridge. The company, as usual, were on foot, and we find Porte Crayon in conversation with some emigrants who had halted by the road side to cook their midday meal. Addressing himself to the man of the party with jocular familiarity, he desired to know if people were getting too thick to thrive below the Ridge, or if he had fall- en out with the Governor, that he was going to leave the Old Com- monwealth, The emigrant replied civilly that, although there might be room for a few more in his county, yet, while there, he had only been a renter and not a proprietor. Having realized a few hundred dollars by his labor, he had invested it in purchasing a homestead where lands were cheaper if not better than in his old neighborhood. He, moreover, informed Crayon that he by no means meditated giving up his allegiance to his native state, but was going to settle in Nicholas County, which he described as a 200 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. <-^,--.__-^. THE EMIGRANTS' HALT. Land of Promise — pleasant, fertile, and abounding in fish and game. Philosophy reasons, Prudence frowns, but Instinct governs aft- er all. "A rolling stone gathers no moss," says the "wise grand- am, giving her spinning-wheel a whirl. "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," observes grandpap, drawing his purse- strings close, and tying them in a hard knot. But who ever saw a stone that would not roll if it had an opportunity, or a young- ster who would not cut up his little fish for bait to catch a big one withal ? "My friend, may you prosper in your new home," said Cray- on, with animation. " Indeed, I am half envious of your fortune. BUHHING A BISE, THE EMIGRANTS. 201 especially the hunting and fishing, for I would rather live in that country in a log hut than dwell in marble halls ; I mean more particularly during the summer and fall." "To be sure," rejoined the emigrant, "you might find the win- ter kind o' lonesome out thar'." "I am glad to hear, however, that you are not going to leave Virginia, for," continued Crayon, "I don't like the idea of build- ing up new states in the Far West when the old ones are scarcely half finished. Why are men hurrying away to the shores of the Pacific to seek for homes, while there exist extensive and fertile districts within our own borders, as pure and intact in their vir- ginity as the vales of the Rocky Mountains or the banks of the Columbia 1 I believe the true secret of this restlessness is, that the dreamers are always in hopes of finding some El Dorado where they may live and get rich without work." "The stranger is right," interrupted the sallow matron, who had overheard the conversation, and who seemed particularly struck by the last observation. "I always was set agin the Fur West, for I've been told it's a mighty hard country on wimmen and bosses, and easy on men and dogs ; and I told him, thar, that I wouldn't agree to leave the state on no account." Crayon did not fail to compliment madam on this manifestation of her spirit and good sense, and remarked, further, that women in general were more sincere in their patriotism than men, and if it were not for the care of the children that kept them at home, they would, in all probability, make better soldiers. "I could tell you a story about one Sally Jones, in our part of the coun- try, somewhat to the point. If all our Virginia girls were of the same stamp, these vacant districts would soon be filled up, and the prosperity of the Old Commonwealth fixed on the most reli- able and permanent basis." A story illustrating so important a principle in political econ- omy could not be passed over, and Crayon was requested to con- tinue his discourse, which he did as follows : "Nathan Jones, a small farmer in our vicinity, had a daugh- ter, as pretty and buxom a lass as ever thumped buttermilk in a 202 PORTE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. churn ; and whether you saw her carrying eggs to market on the flea-bitten mare, or helping to stir apple-butter at a boiling frolic, or making a long reach at a quilting, or sitting demurely in the log meeting-house on a Sunday — in short, wherever you saw her, she always looked as pretty, if not prettier, than she had ever done before. "Notwithstanding her attractions, it will scarcely be credited that Sally had reached the mature age of eighteen without an avowed suitor. Admirers, nay, lovers she had by the score ; and whenever liquor was convenient, many a sober youth got drunk because of her, and many a sighing, bachelor would willingly have given his riding-horse, or even his share in Dad's farm, for her. There was, indeed, no lack of will on their part ; the difficulty was in mustering up courage to make the proposal. Mankind seemed, for once, to be impressed with a proper sense of its own unworthiness. Now, far be it from any one to infer from this that Sally was prudish or unapproachable. On the contrary, she was as good-humored, as comely, and disposed to be as loving as she was lovable. Poor Sally ! It is a great misfortune for a girl to be too handsome — almost as great as to be too ugly. There she was, sociable and warm-hearted as a pigeon, amiable as a turtle-dove, looking soft encouragement, as plainly as maiden modesty permitted, to her bashful company of admirers, who dawdled about her, twiddling their thumbs, biting the bark off their riding-switches, and playing a number of other sheepish tricks, but saying never a word to the purpose. " ' Either he fears his fate too much, Or his desert is small, Who dares not put it to the touch, And win or lose it all.' "Sally was entering on her nineteenth year, when she was one day heard to observe that men were the meanest, slowest, cowardliest, or'nariest creatures — in short, good for nothing but to lie under an apple-tree with their mouths open, and wait until the apples dropped into them. "This observation was circulated from mouth to mouth, and, like the riddle of the Sphinx, was deeply pondeifed by Sally's lov- THE WAGON-MAKEB'S LOVE. 203 ers. If any of them had wit enough to solve its meaning, cer- tainly no one had pluck enough to prove the answer. "Not of this poor-spirited crowd was Sam Bates, a stalwart youth, who stood, in winter, six feet two inches in his stockings (in summer he didn't wear any). Sam was not handsome in the ordinary sense of the term. He was freckled, had a big mouth, and carroty hair. His feet — but no matter ; he usually bought number fourteen and a half boots, because they fitted him better than sevens or eights. Sam was a wagon-maker by profession, owned a flourishing shop and several hundred acres of unim- proved land, which secured to him the reputation of independ- ence. For the rest, he was a roystering blade, a good rider, a crack shot with the rifle, and an accomplished fiddler. Bold to the confines of impudence, he was a favorite of the fair ; with a. heart as big as his foot, and a fist like a sledge-hammer, he was the acknowledged cock of the walk, and preux chevalier of the pine-hill country. " Mr. Bates met Sally Jones for the first time at a quilting, and in sixty seconds after sight he had determined to court her. He sat beside her as she stitched, and even had the audacity to squeeze her hand under the quilt. Truth is mighty, and must be told. Although Sally did resent the impertinence by a stick with her needle, she was not half so indignant as she ought to have been. I dare not say she was pleased, .but perhaps I should not be far from the truth if I did. It is undeniable that, the more gentle and modest a woman is, the more she admires courage and bold- ness in the other sex. Sally blushed every time her eyes met those of her new beau, and that was as often as she looked up. As for Sam, the longer he gazed the deeper he sunk in the mire of love, and by the end of the evening his heart and his confidence were both completely overwhelmed. As he undertook to see Sally home, he felt a numbness in his joints that was entirely new to him, and when he tried to make known his sentiments, as he had previously determined, he found his heart was so swelled up that it closed his throat, and he couldn't utter a word. '"What a darned cussed sneak I was!' groaned Sam, as he turned that night on his sleepless pillow. 'What's come over 204 PORTE CEATON.AND HIS COUSINS. me that I can't speak my mind to a pretty gal without a-chokin' ? Lord! but she is too pretty to live on this airth. "Well, I'm a-goin' to church with her to-morrow, and if I don't fix matters afore I git back, drat me.' "It is probable Sam Bates had never hearkened to the story of 'Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia,' or he would have been less credulous while thus listening to the whispers of fancy, and less ready to take it for granted that the deficiencies of the day would be supplied by the morrow. To-morrow came, and in due time Mr. Bates, tricked off in a bran-new twelve-dollar suit of Jews' clothes, was on his way to meeting beside the beautiful Sally. His horse, bedecked with a new fair leather bridle and a new sad- dle with brass stirrups, looked as gay as his master. As they rode up to the meeting-house door, Sam could not forbear casting a triumphant glance at the crowd of Sally's adorers that stood around, filled with mortification and envy at his successful audac- ity. Sally's face was roseate with pleasure and bashfulness. '"Stop a minute, now, Miss Sally; I'll jist git down and hft ye ofi-.' " Sam essayed to dismount, but in so doing found that both feet were hopelessly fast in the stirrups. His face swelled and reddened like a turkey gobbler's. In vain he twisted and kicked ; the crowd was expectant ; Sally was waiting. ' Gosh darn the steerup ! ' exclaimed Sam, endeavoring to break the leathers with his desperate kicks. At this unwonted exclamation, Sally looked up and saw her beau's predicament. The by-standers began to snicker. Sally was grieved and indignant. Bouncing out of her saddle, in a twinkling she handed her entrapped escort a stone. ' Here, Sammy, chunk your foot out with this ! ' " Oh, Sally Jones ! into what an error did your kind heart be- tray you, to ofifer this untimely civility in the presence of the as- sembled county — admirers, rivals, and all ! " Sam took the stone and struck a frantic blow at the pertina- cious stirrup, but, missing his aim, it fell with crushing force upon a soft corn that had come from wearing tight boots. 'Whoa, darn ye!' cried he, losing all control of himself, and threatening to beat his horse's brains out with the stone. SHUTTING UP SHOP. 205 '"Don't strike the critter, Sammy,' said old Jones ; 'you'll gin him the poll evil ; but jist let me ongirth the saddle, and we'll git you loose in no time.' " In short, the saddle was unbuckled, and Sam dismounted with his feet still fast in the stirrups, looking like a criminal in foot- hopples. With some labor he pulled off his boots, squeezed them out of the stirrups, and pulled them on again. The tender Sally stood by, all the while manifesting the kindest concern ; and when he was finally extricated, she took his arm and walked him into church. But this unlucky adventure was too much for Sam ; he sneaked out of meeting during the first prayer, pulled off his boots, and rode home in his stockings. "From that time Sam Bates disappeared from society. Lit- erally and metaphorically, he shut up shop and hung up his fid- dle. He did not take to liquor, like a fool, but took to his axe, and cleared I don't know how many acres of rugged, heavy-tim- bered land, thereby increasing the value of his tract to the amount of several hundred dollars. SHUTTING UP SHOP. "Sally indirectly sent him divers civil messages, intimating that she took no account of that little accident at the meeting- 206 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. house, and at length, ventured on a direct present of a pair of gray yarn stockings, knit with her own hands. But, while every effort to win him back to the world was unsuccessful, the yarn stockings were a great comfort in his self-imposed exile. Sam wore them continually, not on his feet, as some matter-of-fact booby might suppose, but in his bosom ; and often, during the intervals of his work in the lonely clearing, would he draw them out and pon- der on them until a big tear gathered in his eye. ' Oh, Sally Jones ! Sally Jones ! if I had only had the spunfc to have court- ed ye Saturday night, instead of waiting till Sunday morning, things might have been different!' and then he would pick up his axe, and whack it into the next tree with the energy of de- spair. "At length the whole country was electrified by the announce- ment that 'Farmer Jones had concluded to sell out and go West.' On the day appointed for the sale there could not have been less than a hundred horses tethered in his barn-yard. Sam Bates was there, looking as un- easy as a pig in a strange corn- field. " Sally might have been a lit- tle thinner than usual, just enough to heighten rather than diminish her charms. It was generally known that she was averse to moving West ; in fact, she took no pains to conceal her sentiments on the subject, and her pretty eyes were evidently red with recent weeping. She looked mournfully around at each familiar object. The old home- stead, with its chunked and daubed walls ; the cherry-trees under which she had played in childhood ; the flowers she had planted ; and then to see the dear old furniture auctioned off — the churn, the apple-butter pot, the venerable quilting-frame, the occasion of so many social gatherings. But harder than all was it when her own white cow was put up — her pet that, when a calf, she had IN A STRANGE CORN-FIELD. SALLY JONES. 207 saved from the butcher — it was too much, and the tears trickled afresh doAvn Sally's blooming cheeks. " 'Ten dollars! ten dollars for the cowl' " 'Fifty dollars!' shouted Bates. " 'Why, Sammy,' whispered a prudent neighbor, 'she hain't worth twenty, at the outside.' " 'I'll gin fifty for her,' replied Sam, doggedly. "Now, when Sally heard of this piece of gallantry, she must needs thank the. purchaser for the compliment, and commend Su- key to his especial kindness. Then she extended her plump hand, which Sam seized with such a devouring grip that the little maid- en could scarcely suppress a scream. She did suppress it, how- ever, that she might hear whether he had any thing further to say, but she was disappointed. He turned away dumb, swallowing, as it were, great hunks of grief as big as dumplings. "When every thing was sold off and dinner was over, the company disposed it- self about the yard in groups, reclining on the grass, or seated on benches and dismantled furniture. The conversation naturally turned on the events of the day and the prospects of the Jones family, and it was unanimously voted a cussed pity that so fine a girl as Sally should be permitted to leave the country so evident- ly against her will. " 'Hain't none of you sneaking whelps the sperit to stop her f asked the white-headed miller, addressing a group of young bache- lors lying near. The louts snickered, turned over, whispered to each other, but no one showed any disposition to try the experiment. "The sun was declining in the west. Some of those who lived at a distance were already gone to harness up their horses. To- morrow the belle of Cacapon Valley would be on her way to Mis- souri. Just then Sally rushed from the house, with a face all ex- citement, a step all determination. Arrived in the middle of the yard, she mounted the reversed apple-butter kettle : ' I don't want to go West, I don't — I don't want to leave Old Virginny ; and I won't leave, if there's a man among ye that has spunk enough to ask me to stay.' "But where is Southern chivalry? withered beneath the sneers of cold-blooded malignity ? choked by the maxims of doUar-jing- 208 POETE CRAYON AND HIS COUSINS. ling prudence? distanced on the circular race-course of progress? bankrupt through the tricks of counterfeiting politicians ? De- luded querist, no ! Like a strong and generous lion it sleeps — sleeps so soundly that even apes may grimace and chatter insults in its face, and pull hairs from its tail with impunity ; but give it a good hard poke, and you will hear a roar that will make the coward tremble and the brave prudent. "Hear]j:en to the sequel of Sally Jones: " Scarcely had she finished her patriotic address when there was a general rush. The less active were trampled over like puffed goat-skins at a bacchanalian festival: 'Miss Sally, I axes you;' ' Miss Sally, I spoke first ;' 'I bespeaks her for my son Bill,' squeaked an octogenarian, struggling forward to seize her arm. To hide her confusion, Sally covered her face with her apron, when she felt a strong arm thrown round her, and heard a stentorian voice shout, ' She's mine, by gauley ! ' " Sam Bates cleared a swath as if he had been in a grain-field, bore his unresisting prize into the house, and slammed the door on the cheering crowd. "The wedding came off that night, and on the following morn- ing Sam rode home, driving his white cow before and carrying his wife behind him." Porte Crayon took his leave and hasten- ed up the road. He overtook his compan- ions just as they were crossing a brook that came brawling down through a gorge in the mountains. As they tarried on the bank, Minnie re- marked that the brook reminded her of Pas- sage Creek, in the Fort Mountains. THE MOUNTAIN BROOK. THE IMRPOMPTU. 209 "Truly it does," said Crayon; "and the resemblance recalls a pretty allusion which you made at the time we crossed it to Un- dines, water-spirits, or some such animals, which I thought very poetic, and worthy of being versified." ' ' Ah ! cousin, do by all means write me some verses ; you know I adore poetry. The piece shall be set to music, and Fanny will sing it." "I never heard that Cousin Porte could write poetry," said Dora, innocently. Porte, who had hitherto made a show of resistance, appeared to be piqued by this remark, and, seating himself upon a rock, he drew forth pencil and paper with an expression that seemed to say, I'll show you. Miss, in a few minutes, whether I can write verses or not. Crayon whittled his pencil with a thoughtful and abstracted air. "This scene," said he, "does very much resemble the other in its general features, but the season is far advanced, and nature wears a drearier aspect. Yet the fresh beauty which she has lost still blooms in your cheeks, my fair companions. Seat yourselves near me, therefore, that in your loveliness I may find inspiration for an impromptu." The girls laughingly did as they were commanded, Avhile Porte Crayon alternately pinched his eyebrows and scribbled. Present- ly, with an air of great unconcern, he handed the results to Cousin Minnie, who read first to herself, and then, with some liesitation, aloud, the following verses : THE WATEE-SPKITE. Bright flashing, soft dimpling, the streamlet is flowing ; A maiden trips over, with vermeil cheek glowing ; In mirror of silver, once furtively glancing, She marks a sweet shadow 'mid cool wavelets dancing. . 'Twas a voice — is she dreaming i. — that rose from the water, Articulate murmuring, " Come with me, fair daughter, I'll lead thee to shades where the forest discloses Its green arching bowers, enwreathed with wild roses. " When erst thou hast laved in my bosom, pure gushing, Immortal, unfading, in fresh beauty blushing, Young sister, forever we'll joyously wander, Free through the mirk woodland, the shady boughs under." o 210 PORTE CKATON AND HIS COUSINS. Heed not, list'ning maiden, the Water-sprite's song. For false her weird accents and murmuring tongue ; No mortal heart throbs in her shivering breast, Ever sparkling and foaming, she never knows rest. From summer clouds lowering the big rain descendeth. The hemlock's spire towering the red levin rendeth, All turbid and foul in wild fury she hasteth. Rose, wreath, and green bower in madness she wasteth. When stern winter cometh, with tyrannous hand His icy chain bindeth both water and land ; The wanderer hastes over, no spirit-voice woes him ; White, white lies the snow-shroud on her frozen bosom. Then rest thee, loved maiden, where true hearts beat warm, And strong arms may guard thee through danger and storm ; Where unchanging affection may sweeten thy tears, And love that can brighten the winter of years. The verses were highly commended, and Dora expressed her- self greatly astonished that any one who could write such po- etry had not written books of it, and become famous, like Milton and Lord Byron, or at least have published some in the newspa- pers. Crayon made a deprecatory and scornful gesture. "Trash!" said he; "mere trash; jingling nonsense. Versification is at best but a meretricious art, giving undue value to vapid thought^ and sentiments, serving to obscure and weaken sense that would be better expressed in prose." "Why, cousin," exclaimed Minnie, "are these your real senti- ments, or is it merely a way of underrating your own perform- ance ? Hear what Shakspeare says of poets : " ' The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling. Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.' " "Upon my word," said Dora, "one would think that Shak- speare had seen Cousin Porte writing verses." "Well, well," said our hero, shrugging his shoulders with an air of resignation, "when one has condescended to a business only fit for scribbling women — " THE IMPKOMPTU. 211 "Scribbling women!" repeated Fanny; "wby, brother, you ought to be ashamed to talk so, when you have been at least a month writing this impromptu." "Truly, Miss, how came you to know what I have been study- ing for a month past 1 Is my skull so transparent, or have you more shrewdness than I have been accustomed to allow your sex T "Indeed, Porte, it required no great shrewdness to make the discovery, for about three weeks ago I found this bit of paper in the bottom of the carriage." iyr