Part 3

This watering-place has lately come into notice, and is growing in popular favour. The water is said to resemble the celebrated White Sulphur Spring of Greenbrier. Again returning to Winchester, we proceed on our way upon the macadamized road up the beautiful valley of Virginia to Newtown, 8 miles, Strasburg, 10 miles, Woodstock, 11-1/2 miles. Eighteen miles from this, in Shenandoah County, are the

ORKNEY, OR YELLOW SPRINGS.

"These waters are composed of several lively springs, and are strongly chalybeate. Everything the water passes through, or over, is beautifully lined with a bright yellow fringe or moss. The use of this water is found beneficial for the cure of several complaints. A free use of this water acts as a most powerful cathartic, as does also a small quantity of the fringe, or moss mixed with common water."

Returning to Woodstock, we once more take the macadamized road, to Mount Jackson, 13 miles, Newmarket, 7 miles, Spartapolis, 6-1/2 miles, Harrisonburg, 11 miles. Twelve miles from this place is

RAWLEY'S SPRING.

The following account of this watering-place is given by Dr. Moorman, in his work on the White Sulphur Springs.

"Rawley's Spring is situated on the southern slope of the North Mountain, in the county of Rockingham, 12 miles northwest from Harrisonburg, and about 120 miles northeast from the White Sulphur. The Rawley water is a strong and pure _chalybeate_, and well adapted to cases requiring such a tonic.

"The writer has had some experience in the use of this water, and for many years has been in the habit of occasionally directing its use in cases to which it is applicable. As a pure iron tonic, it deserves to stand at the very head of that class of remedies.

"In that class of female affections, dependent upon debility or want of tone in the uterine system, this water is an exceedingly valuable remedy. Its salutary effects in cases of this description are often as remarkable as they are gratifying, restoring the functions of the debilitated organ, and imparting vigour and health to the whole system."

From Harrisonburg we proceed to Mount Crawford, 8 miles, Mount Sidney, 7 miles, thence to Staunton, 10 miles.

Leaving the macadamized road at Harrisonburg, visiters to the springs frequently travel, via the Augusta Springs, to the Warm Springs, 60 miles, thereby shortening the distance about 14 miles.

Another route, via Staunton, to the springs, is to LEXINGTON, 35 miles. This is the prettiest town in the valley of Virginia. Here are located Washington College and the "Virginia Military Institute," both flourishing institutions. The Natural Bridge is 15 miles southwest of Lexington; and 17 miles west of Lexington are the

ROCKBRIDGE ALUM SPRINGS.

On the stage road to the Bath Alum and the Warm Springs, in Bath County. The improvements here are new and comfortable, sufficient to accommodate about one hundred persons.

"This water contains a rare and valuable combination of materials; the principal are iodine, sulphates of iron and alum, magnesia, and sulphuric acid. The water is tonic, increasing the appetite and promoting digestion; it is alterative, exciting the secretions of the glandular system generally, and particularly of the liver and kidneys; it is cathartic, producing copious bilious evacuations; and it also effects a determination to the surface, increasing the perspiration.

"From the efficacy of these waters in purifying the blood, they are invaluable in the cure of all diseases of the skin; and all indolent sores, not disposed to a healthy action. In the use of them for such diseases, if the disease of the skin appears to be irritated at first, or if the ulcers become more inflamed, and discharge more freely, let not this circumstance alarm any one, or deter him from persevering in their use. These are the evidences of the good effects of the waters, in expelling the vitiated humours from the blood to the surface, and, until the blood is purified, such diseases cannot be cured. In scrofulous ulcers, the use of these waters invariably causes them to discharge more freely, and in a short time of a more healthy appearance. They are a very useful remedy in cholera infantum, or the summer bowel complaint in children. They immediately give a good appetite, promote digestion, and will effectually correct and cure acidity of the stomach. In amenorrhoea, dysmenorrhoea, and leucorrhoea, the waters are peculiarly efficacious. Most obstinate cases of scrofula, erysipelas, and dyspepsia, have been cured by these waters, which preserve their medicinal qualities when sent away in barrels."

ROUTES FROM RICHMOND.

From Richmond the routes to the Springs are, railroad to the junction, 27 miles, and from thence to Charlottesville as already given; or by James River Canal to Scottsville, 79 miles, and from thence by stage to Brooksville, 25 miles; or continuing on the canal to Lynchburg, 67 miles, and thence by stage to the NATURAL BRIDGE, 38 miles.

This celebrated curiosity is in the county of Rockbridge. It crosses a small stream called "Cedar Creek." Howe, in his Sketches of Virginia, has the following eloquent description, which was published originally in Europe.

"This famous bridge is on the head of a fine limestone hill, which has the appearance of having been rent asunder by some terrible convulsion in nature. The fissure thus made is about 90 feet; and over it the bridge runs, so needful to the spot, and so unlikely to have survived the great fracture, as to seem the work of man; so simple, so grand, so great, as to assure you that it is only the work of God. The span of the arch runs from 45 to 60 feet wide; and its height, to the underline is about 200 feet, and to the head about 240! The form of the arch approaches to the elliptical, and it is carried over a diagonal line, the very line of all others so difficult to the architect to realize, and yet so calculated to enhance the picturesque beauty of the object.

"There are chiefly three points of sight. You naturally make your way to the head of the bridge first, and as it is a continuation of the common road, with its sides covered with fine shrubs and trees, you may be on it before you are aware; but the moment you approach through the foliage to the side you are filled with apprehension. It has, indeed, a natural parapet, but few persons can stand forward and look over. You instinctively seek to reduce your height, that you may gaze on what you admire with security. Even then it agitates you with dizzy sensations. You then make your way some fifty feet down the bosom of the hill, and are supplied with some admirable standings on the projecting rockwork, to see the bridge and all its rich accompaniments. There is, 200 feet below you, the Cedar Creek, apparently motionless, except where it flashes with light as it cuts its way through the broken rocks. Mark the trees of every variety, but especially the fir, how they diminish as they stand on the margin of its bed; and how they ascend, step by step, on the noble rockwork, till they overshadow you, still preserving such delicacy of form and growth, as if they would not do an injury while they lend a grace. Observe those hills, gathering all around you in their fairest forms and richest verdure, as if to do honour to a scene of surpassing excellence. Now look at the bridge itself, springing from this bed of verdant loveliness, distinct, one, complete! It is before you in its most picturesque form; you just see through the arch, and the internal face of the further pier is perfectly revealed. Did you ever see such a pier, such an arch? Is it not most illusive? Look at that masonry. Is it not most like the perfection of art, and yet what art could never reach? Look at that colouring. Does it not appear like the painter's highest skill, and yet unspeakably transcend it? This is exquisite; still, you have no just conception of this masterpiece until you get below. You go some little distance for this purpose, as in the vicinity of the bridge the rocks are far too precipitous. A hot and brilliant day is, of all others, the time to enjoy this object. To escape from a sun which scorches you, into these verdant and cool bottoms, is a luxury of itself, which disposes you to relish everything else. When down, I was careful of the first impression, and did not venture to look steadily on the objects about me till I had selected my station. At length I placed myself about 100 feet from the bridge, on some masses of rock, which were washed by the running waters, and ornamented by the slender trees which were springing from its fissures. At my feet was the soothing melody of the rippling, gushing waters; behind me, and in the distance, the creek and the hills were expanding themselves to the light and splendour of day; before me, and all around, everything was reposing in the most delightful shade, set off by the streaming rays of the sun, which shot across the head of the picture far above you, and sweetened the solitude below. On the right and left, the majestic rocks arose, with the decision of a wall, but without its uniformity, massive, broken, beautiful, and supplying a most admirable foreground; and, everywhere, the most delicate stems were planted in their crevices, and waving their heads in the soft breeze, which occasionally came over them. The eye now ran through the bridge, and was gratified with a lovely vista. The Blue Mountains stood out in the background; beneath them, the hills and woods gathered together, so as to enclose the dell below; while the creek, which was coursing away from them, seemed to have its well-head hidden in their recesses. Then there is the arch distinct from everything, and above everything. Massive as it is, it is light and beautiful by its height, and the fine trees on its summit seem now only like a garland of evergreens; and, elevated as it is, its apparent elevation is wonderfully increased by the narrowness of its piers, and by its outline being drawn on the blue sky, which appears beneath and above it! Oh, it is sublime--so strong, and yet so elegant--springing from the earth, and bathing its head in heaven! But it is the sublime not allied to the terrific, as at Niagara; it is the sublime associated with the pleasing. I sat and gazed in wonder and astonishment. That afternoon was the shortest I ever remember. I had quickly, too quickly, to leave the spot for ever; but the music of those waters, the luxury of those shades, the form and colour of those rocks, and that arch--that arch--rising over all, and seeming to offer a passage to the skies--O, they will never leave me!"

Leaving the Natural Bridge, we proceed to

DIBRELL'S SPRING,

In Botetourt County, 19 miles. "This watering-place is 43 miles from the White Sulphur. The buildings here are very neat and comfortable, and sufficient for the accommodation of about 200 persons."

The following analysis of the water is by Professor Rogers:

_Solid Ingredients._

Carbonate of soda, Sulphate of soda, Chloride of sodium, Carbonate of magnesia, Peroxide of iron, Silicia dissolved.

"Organic matter containing chloride of potassium, nitrogen, carbonate of lime, and carbonate of ammonia.

_Gaseous Ingredients._

Carbonic acid, Oxygen, Sulphuretted hydrogen, Nitrogen.

"The water of Dibrell's Spring partakes of all the general characteristics of the other sulphur waters, and may be used with good effects in all cases to which such waters are adapted. In certain dyspeptic depravities, especially, it deserves a high rank among our mineral waters."

From Dibrell's Spring the road leads by Clifton Forge, 10 miles,--the scenery at this place is very fine,--Covington, 13 miles, and to Calahan's, 5 miles.

Another route from Lynchburg is by stage to New London, 10 miles, to Liberty, 15 miles. Here we would advise the traveller to leave the stage, and make a visit to the Peaks of Otter. They are about 7 miles northwest from this place. The following description of them is from the Southern Literary Messenger:

"After riding about a mile and a quarter, we came to the point beyond which horses cannot be taken, and, dismounting our steeds, commenced ascending on foot. The way was very steep, and the day so warm, that we had to halt often to take breath. As we approached the summit, the trees were all of a dwarfish growth, and twisted and gnarled by the storms of that high region. There were, also, a few blackberry bushes, bearing their fruit long after the season had passed below. A few minutes longer brought us to where the trees ceased to grow; but a huge mass of rocks, piled wildly on the top of each other, finished the termination of the peak. Our path lay for some distance around the base of it, and under the overhanging battlements; and rather descending for a while, until it led to a part of the pile which could with some effort be scaled. There was no ladder, nor any artificial steps, and the only means of ascent was by climbing over the successive rocks. We soon stood upon the wild platform of one of nature's most magnificent observatories, isolated and apparently above all things else terrestrial, and looking down upon and over a beautiful, variegated, and at the same time grand, wild, wonderful, and almost boundless panorama. Indeed, it was literally boundless; for there was a considerable haze resting upon some parts of 'the world below;' so that, in the distant horizon, the earth and sky seemed insensibly to mingle with each other. I had been there before. I remember when a boy of little more than ten years old, to have been taken to that spot, and how my unpractised nerves forsook me at the sublimity of the scene. On this day it was as new as ever; as wild, wonderful, and sublime, as if I had never before looked from those isolated rocks, or stood on that awful summit. On one side, towards Eastern Virginia, lay a comparatively level country, in the distance bearing strong resemblance to the ocean; on the other hand were ranges of high mountains, interspersed with cultivated spots, and then terminating in piles of mountains, following in successive ranges, until they were lost also in the haze. Above and below, the Blue Ridge and Alleghanies ran off in long lines; sometimes relieved by knolls and peaks, and in one place above us making a graceful curve, and then again running off in a different line of direction. Very near us stood the rounded top of the other peak, looking like a sullen sentinel for its neighbour. We paused in silence for a time. We were there almost cut off from the world below, standing where it was fearful even to look down. It was more hazy than at the time of my last visit, but not too much so to destroy the interest of the scene.

"There was almost a sense of pain, at the stillness which seemed to reign. We could hear the flapping of the wings of the hawks and buzzards, as they seemed to be gathering a new impetus after sailing through one of their circles in the air below us. North of us, and on the other side of the Valley of Virginia, were the mountains near Lexington, just as seen from that beautiful village,--the Jump, North, and House Mountains succeeding each other; they were familiar with a thousand associations of our childhood, seeming mysteriously, when away from the spot, to bring my early home before me--not in imagination, such as had often haunted me when I first left to find another in the world, but in substantial reality.

"Further on down the valley, and at a great distance, was the top of a large mountain, which was thought to be the Great North Mountain, away down in Shenandoah County--I am afraid to say how far off. Intermediate between these mountains, and extending opposite and far above us, was the Valley of Virginia, with its numerous and highly cultivated farms. Across this valley, and in the distance, lay the remote ranges of the Alleghany and mountains about, and, I suppose, beyond the White Sulphur Springs. Nearer us, and separating Eastern and Western Virginia, was the Blue Ridge, more than ever showing the propriety of its cognomen of the 'backbone;' and on which we could distinctly see two zigzag turnpikes, the one leading to Fincastle, and the other to Buchanan; and over which latter we had travelled a few days before. With the spy-glass we could distinguish the houses in the village of Fincastle, some 25 or 30 miles off, and the road leading to the town.

"Turning towards the direction of our morning's ride, we had beneath us Bedford County, with its smaller mountains, farms, and farm-houses--the beautiful village of Liberty, the county roads, and occasionally a mill-pond, reflecting the sun like a sheet of polished silver. The houses on the hill at Lynchburg, 25 or 30 miles distant, are distinctly visible on a clear day, and also Willis' Mountain, away down in Buckingham County.

"I had often visited Bedford, and had been more or less familiar with it from childhood, but at our elevation, distances were so annihilated, and appearances so changed, that we could scarcely recognise the most familiar object. After some difficulty, we at length made out the residence of Dr. M., we had that morning left, and at that moment rendered more than usually interesting by containing, in addition to the other very dear relatives, two certain ladies, who sustained a very interesting connexion with the Doctor and myself, and one of whom had scarcely laid aside the blushes on her bridal hour.

"A little beyond this, I recognised the former residence of a beloved sister, now living in a far distant southern state. It was the same steep hill ascending to the gate, the same grove around the house, as when she lived there, and the same as when I played there in my boyhood. And it was the first time I had seen it since the change of owners. I then saw it from the Peaks of Otter: but it touched a thousand tender chords; and I almost wept when I thought that those I once there loved were far away, and that the scenes of my youthful days could not return.

"Myself and companions had, some time before, gotten on different rocks, that we might not interrupt each other in our contemplations. I could not refrain, however, from saying to one of them, 'What little things we are! how factitious our ideas of what is extensive in territory and distance!' A splendid estate was about the size I could step over; and I could stand and look at the very house whence I used to start in days gone by, and follow with my eye my day's journey to the spot where, wearied and worn, I dismounted with the setting sun. Yet I could look over what seemed so great a space, with a single glance. I could also look away down the Valley of Virginia, and trace the country, and, in imagination, the stage coach, as it slowly wound its way, day and night for successive days, to reach the termination of what I could throw my eye over in a moment. I was impressively reminded of the extreme littleness with which these things of earth would all appear, when the tie of life which binds us here is broken, and we shall all be able to look back and down upon them from another world. The scene and place are well calculated to excite such thoughts.

"It is said that John Randolph once spent the night on these elevated rocks, attended by no one but his servant; and that, when in the morning he had witnessed the sun rising over the majestic scene, he turned to his servant, having no other to whom he could express his thoughts, and charged him, 'Never from that time to believe any who told him there was no God.'

"I confess, also, that my mind was most forcibly carried to the judgment day; and I could but call the attention of my companions to what would, probably, then be the sublime terror of the scene we now beheld, when the mountains we saw and stood upon, should all be melted down like wax; when the flames should be driving over the immense expanse before us; when the heavens over us should be 'passing away with a great noise;' and when the air beneath and around us should be filled with the very inhabitants now dwelling, and busied in that world beneath us."

After the traveller has gratified his curiosity beholding the Peaks of Otter, he may resume the stage at Liberty, and proceed on his route to the springs, via Bufort's, 14 miles; Fincastle, 14 miles; Sweet Springs, 32 miles; Red Sweet, 1 mile; and White Sulphur, 16 miles.

Visiters to the Virginia Springs from the south or west by the Ohio River, generally leave the river at Guyandotte, taking the stage to Charleston, 48 miles. This beautiful town is in the rich valley of the Kanawha, immediately on the banks of the river. About five miles from this place are the Salines, where are to be seen the Gas-Wells. The following interesting account of these is from the Lexington Gazette of 1843:

"These wonderful wells have been so lately discovered, that as yet only a brief and imperfect notice of them has appeared in the newspapers. But they are a phenomenon so very curious and interesting, that a more complete description will doubtless be acceptable to the public.

"They are, in fact, a new thing under the sun; for in all the history of the world, it does not appear that a fountain of strong brine was ever before known to be mingled with a fountain of inflammable gas, sufficient to pump it out in a constant stream, and then by its combustion, to evaporate the whole into salt of the best quality.

"We shall introduce our account of these wells by some remarks on the geological structure of the country at the Kanawha Salt Works, and on the manner in which the salt water is obtained.

"The country is mountainous, and the low grounds along the river are altogether alluvial, the whole space of a mile in width, having been at some time the bed of the river. The rocks are chiefly sandstone of various qualities, lying in beds, or strata, from two inches to several feet in thickness. These strata are nearly horizontal, but dipping a little, as in other parts of the country, towards the northwest. At the Salt Works they have somehow been heaved up into a swell above the line of general direction, so as to raise the deep strata nigher to the surface, and thus to bring those in which the salt water is found within striking distance.

"Among the sand-rocks are found layers of slate and coal; this latter being also, by the same upheaving, made more conveniently accessible than in most other parts of the country.

"The salt water is obtained by sinking a tight curb, or gum, at the edge of the river, down about twenty feet, to the rock which underlies the river, and then boring into the rock. At first the borings did not exceed 200 feet in depth, but the upper strata of water being exhausted, the wells were gradually deepened, the water of the lower strata being generally stronger than the upper had ever been. Until 1842, none of the wells exceeded 6 or 700 feet in depth. Mr. Tompkins, an enterprising salt-maker, was the first to extend his borings to a thousand feet, or more. His experiment was attended with a most unexpected result. He had somewhat exceeded a thousand feet, when he struck a crevice in the rock, and forth gushed a powerful stream of mingled gas and salt water. Generally, the salt water in the wells was obtained in rock merely porous, and rose by hydrostatic pressure to the level of the river. To obtain the strong water of the lower strata, unmixed with the weak water above, it is the practice to insert a copper tube into the hole, making it fit tightly below by means of wrapping on the outside, and attaching the upper end to the pump, by which the water is drawn up to the furnaces on the river bank.