The Mountain Scenery In Virginia (Part 2)

After a while we change boats and enter into one of still more limited dimensions, climbing from one to the other through the open windows of each. What reason existed for this singular method of transmission, I could not possibly understand. We left the one upon which we had passed so many pleasant hours, with regret. That wended its way to Lexington, while we took a boat on the North river, as they termed it, which would land us in the vicinity of the Natural Bridge. We reached the landing about dark, and a hack conveyed us to the hotel, two miles from there. We found the hotel a large, rambling, old fashioned building, with piazzas and passages, and staircases innumerable. Built on a side bill, it is three stories high in front, and two in rear, and is so quaintly constructed, that one right fancy it was half a dozen houses, built by different people, after different fashions, and rolled together in one conglomerate mass, and connected as well as it could be under the circumstances by passageways. But, with all its oddity, we found it well ventilated and thoroughly clean. Our beds were so soft, and sheets so fresh and sweet, plenty of pillows and towels and water. There was but one objection to the bedrooms, the walls were so very white, that we bore the marks of the lime on our clothing turn which way we would. They gave us the richest of strawberry cakes, with splendid biscuit for our supper, choice ham, sliced so thin, and rich milk and mountain butter, such as must be tasted to be appreciated; and with plenty of ice in our milk, and a traveler’s appetite withal, we felt as if we were faring sumptuously. This house has recently passed into new hands, and is well kept and every way worthy of public patronage, and we cordially commend it to any who is seeking rest and retirement from the bustle of busy life; rich, healthful country-fare, and invigorating mountain breezes, aside from the charms which it must necessarily present to the lover of nature. Itself upon a hill, it stands, embosomed among the hills, which loom up around it on every side, and rise and sink and swell and fall, only to rise again in varied shapes of inimitable grace and beauty. There is a store at the place, and several cabin houses, and two rustic church edificios, one owned by Baptists and the other originally built as a Temperance Hall, now occupied by the Methodists as a sanctuary.

Just in front of the house, and not very far from it, is the Natural Bridge, you ascend a hill and pass over it, without being aware of the terrible chasm beneath you. Just before reaching it, by entering through a gated enclosure on the right, and advancing a little ways, we approach the edge of the fearful cliffs. Some of our party went out on overhanging rock and threw themselves down upon the ground and looked once at the awful chasm; to me the sight was sufficiently appealing when viewed from a more remote stand point. Cedar Creek is a much larger stream than I had fancied it, and more rocky and rapid and noisy, and the banks of it, and the woods around it, abound in every variety of cedar which I have ever seen, and some which are new to me. But we realize little of what this wonder of the world is, until we stand beneath it. We paid our first wait for it early in the morning after our arrival there. We left the hotel, went up the road a little ways, then passed through a field, and over a stile, and down a circuitous and rugged, mountain path, and as we approached the object which we had traveled so far to see, Mr. D., who was acting as our guide, bid us keep our eyes down, that we might not get glimpses of the Bridge, which would serve to impair the effect of its overpowering dimensions and grandeur, but leave the sight until it should burst upon its full and magnificent proportions. The charge was needless, for the slippery stepping stones over which we were passing, sown broadcast by nature's hand, formed such an irregular and uncertain footing, that the act of locomotion required all our attention and care, but when we heard the exclamation "now you may look," our footsteps were stayed, our eyes were lifted-surely—surely our hearts were enlarged, how could we else have drunk in such an overflowing draught of awe, of wonder and of beauty.

I wish I could convey any adequate conception of the glory of the place. If any visible surroundings could awaken inspiration, surely these would call it forth; but it is an idle task to attempt to depict the works of the Great Architect, by word-painting. It is fruitless, even when we make the attempt with things which are familiar to our daily gaze—the dancing brook—the sparkling, eddying creek, the shining rivulets, and rills and springs—the broad expanse of water which bears on its bosom the white winged messengers of trade and commerce—and the trackless ocean, with its ever varying scenes of sublimity and grandeur, of terror and repose the mountain heights, and mountain gorges the smiling hill-side homes, and fertile valleys gigantic forest trees, and flowering shrubs, and tiny grasses, all possess elements of beauty, which cannot be portrayed by words, and we hesitate when we would make the effort to dissect them; well may the pen fall from a nerveless hand, and the mind shrink back appalled from the task which presents itself, when we would fain convey to another mind a picture so grand, so imposing, so sublime as this. The wood cuts, which embellish the pages of our old school geographies are very true to nature; an object so striking, is easily transferred by the artist, but neither brush nor pen can convey any adequate conception of it; as well try to teach the blind the difference in colors, or convey to the understanding of the deaf the harmony of sounds. It must be seen and felt to be appreciated.

The rocks which constitute the abutments of the Bridge, are perpendicular; now and then, as you gaze up at them, a little shelving spot appears, scarcely as large as your hand, on which a soil has formed and a few blades of grass, spring up, or some tenacious weed, or lichen grows; not enough, however, to give any thing like a verdant appearance even to the infrequent spots they decorate. As you sit under it, and look up, on either side, big massive frowning rocks present themselves, which form an arch over the top, displaying, perhaps, less of real symmetry than if fashioned by the hand of man, but far more of grace and beauty. On one side there are crevices in the rock through which the water oozes slowly, trickling down the side, but so little of it that it is all absorbed by the rock, before it reaches its foot, and serves only to make the place cooler, and more grateful after coming to it through a scalding sun. There are some trees growing immediately under the bridge, one large and spreading one particularly; yet, tall as it is, its most aspiring limbs fall far short of reaching the great arch above us.

We came in under the bridge from the northeast side, and the creek turns so abruptly, just above it, winding off to the right, that it looks as if we could not advance another step after passing under it, but were in an enclosure and shut up to the necessity of returning by the way we came, but as we walk forward, we observe that by crossing the stream, which can be done by stepping on the largest of the rocks which form its bed, jumping from one to another and seeking aid from a friendly plank or two, we can follow its bank up on the other side for some distance. The stream here is not very wide, and the bed over which it flows is a perfect mass of rocks; this causes constant commotion in its waters, and they bound and dash onward with joyous leaps, sparkling and brilliant when the sunbeams strike them, and ever rushing forward as if eager to reach their goal. The noise of the plashing waters and the wind singing through the trees, combined to keep up a constant moaning sound, which reminds me all the time of Niagara, though not deafening like that when in, immediate contact with it, still it resounds through all the neighborhood; we were lulled to our quiet rest at night by its monotone, and its plaintive sound, mingled with our half dreamy consciousness, when morning's dawn unbound our sleeping senses. It was not our only music there, for in a spot so secluded from the world's strife and toil and care, we see all animate nature hail the beams of opening day with gladness.

The sweet notes of the many-varied woodland songsters, join with the murmuring bee, the lowing cattle, the noisy fowls and humming insects, in happy songs of praise to the great Creator and Father of us all, who maketh his sun to rise on the evil and the good. At our left, as we enter under the bridge, is a deep fissure in the rock, which looks as if it might, some day, split off a large piece of it; it is some fifty feet, perhaps, in extent. While we were there, some pieces came tumbling down with a crashing sound, which was almost fearful, but a moment’s observation convinced us that it was the reverberating sound, created by the opening chasm, as they struck point after point, which made them seem so formidable; they were, in reality, but tiny fragments, probably thrown from above some careless passerby.

It is said that many attempts have been made, by persons from below, to throw things upon and over the bridge, but that none are ever known to have been successful, and as the Legend goes, Washington lost half a dollar in one of these efforts. There is a singular indentation on the underside of the bridge; the impress of an eagle's form, the head and one wing is very striking; it needs little stretch of fancy to suppose that as might have been made there by the reposing form of the bird itself when the rock was malleable, but then how could it have been on the under side.

On Saturday, after we arrived, a gay party of young people visited the hotel from Lexington; some ten or a dozen ladies and as many gentlemen; a part of them were soldiers, who were released for the time from the duties of the camp, and they enjoyed their sport with the keener zest, from the strong contrast which it presented to the stern hardships which it had probably been their lot to encounter. They brought a fiddle with them, and their joyous feet kept time to its enlivening strains until the evening came, when they departed in the buggies and wagons which had brought them there, and the house seemed quite deserted when their merry voices were no longer heard.

On Sunday morning, the Rev. Mr. Dickinson, of our party, preached, by invitation, in the Baptist church, to such a congregation as could be summoned at so brief a notice, and in the evening we listened to a Methodist minister, in the Temperance Hall. In the midst of nature's magnificence, and surrounded by Heaven's own workmanship, the heart is naturally attuned to devotion, and rises spontaneously to the loving Father, who has clothed this His footstool, and our dwelling place, with such resplendent glory. All His works praise Him, and the creatures of His power repose in stainless beauty such as they wore when first they left the hand of the great Architect. Now, as then, we can say of the, “Behold they are very good”.