The accomplished belle of the White Sulphur had, to my eyes, the look of a lady who was never expecting admiration, but had been ever receiving it. From her childhood up, it could not be otherwise than that she had been continually surrounded by domestic love, and chivalrous courtesy. This long continued reflection in her face, as in the mirror of the photographist, of the tenderest and noblest qualities of the heart, had finally left there the likeness of their own beautiful form and coloring. She was, herself, the very glass of love and courtesy. Whatever was gentle and amiable in her natural disposition, had been drawn out and fostered by this atmosphere of affectionate respect, in which she had lived-as the rose unfolds more perfectly its beauty in the welltempered air of the conservatory, than when exposed to the blight and the worm, the cold and the winds of the neglected garden. And, indeed, as there is no grace which more becomes a woman, than that expression of face and manner she derives from the interchange of domestic affection, and from the adoration of men of honor and generous sentiments; so there is nothing which so effectually withers and stains the heavenly bloom of beauty as daily contact with only the vicious and the vulgar. XII. AMUSEMENTS. As for amusements here, do they not consist in drinking the waters, bathing, and, three times a day, supplying the wants of nature by vigorous efforts with the trencher? A few persons bring their books with them, as an additional source of entertainment; but most are satisfied with occasionally looking through a newspaper, a magazine, or some learned treatise, that may be lying about, on the use of mineral waters. The gentlemen sit half the morning through, in easy, wicker-bottom chairs, under the trees, conversing on the subject of politics, estimating the amount of the cotton and rice crops, smoking cigars, drinking juleps, commenting on a passing lady, a horse, a stage-coach, or, indeed, mely counting, as they go by, the "niggers." Rarely does a Virginian propose a walk. He prefers to sit, two hours together, beneath the shade. An active, inquisitive Yankee will go out and explore a mountain, or look at a neighboring farm, and, return ing, find the Southerner in the scat where he left him. An alligator, in the state from which he comes, would not lie on a log longer. The northern-born man, rising, perhaps, not much later than the sun, racing up hill and down, to get what he calls a little exercise, climbing the pathless mountains for views of the scenery, and scouring the valleys without any purpose whatever, unless it be the getting rid of half a day he knows not what to do with, is thought by him of the terra caliente a sort of madcap, flibbertigibbet, a personification of unreason. The latter will make ast much effort as may be necessary to back a horse; if there is game, he will occasionally go out with dog and gun; and, in a few instances, I have seen him wet a line for trout, or it might have been cat-fish. At ten-pins and at billiards, also he will play. But on the whole, it is an axiom with him, that too much exercise, as well as too much learning, will make a man mad. He, therefore, detests both. For any man living on the sunny side of the Union, to do nothing seems to be no labor; and he kills his time apparently without the pains of giving it a thought. After a while, indeed, all the visitors at these springs learn more or less of the art of getting through the summer day easily. One begins with taking no note of the hour of the day, then lets his watch run down, and finally forgets the day of the week and the month-all being alike, save Sunday. The morning papers, he has ordered from town, come to hand several days old, and with such irregularity that, generally, the contradiction of the news arrives before the news itself; so that, at last, he comes to the conclusion, that at the end of the watering season nothing of importance will have happened, and he sets his mind at rest. As for the ladies, without knowing all the little ways they have of amusing themselves, one sees in their sweet faces that they are happy. They are also the cause of by far the greater part of the happiness there is in these watering places. If, by any strange fatality, the air of the Alleghanies should become fatal to ringlets, and the mineral waters wash the red out of the peach in the cheek, how soon would all these fair scenes revert to the original savages! But, fortunately, while woman lends a portion of her grace to the mountains, the grateful rocks repay the gift, by endowing her with powers of enchantment superior even to those of old conferred on the Medea of the Caucasus. In the eyes of some man or other, every lady, here, is an enchantress. Scarcely was there a young man in the mountains, during the two seasons I spent there, who did not seem, at times, to be under the influence of illusions, more or less, soft and roseate. Even my boy, Custopol, was obliged to confess to me, one day, that when, on the preceding Saturday night, Mary Jane came out in her yellow skirt, and green bodice, with a basque to it, a purple 'kerchief twisted round her braided hair, on her feet red morocco slippers, and gold drops pendant from her ears; and when he put his arm around her waist, and they went down the boards together, while Pompey, in the corner, "picked" his banjo, and all the darkies in the place stood up and down the kitchen; and when Mary Jane, turning softly up her eyes, let him look by the half-minute together into the whites of them, or dancing round, poked her elbow in his ribs, and, grinning, pulled his whiskereven Custy was obliged to confess, that he felt the tender passion. The imagination, in fact, is as much exalted, here, above its ordinary level, as the mountains are higher than tidewater. Hence it will happen that a man, who, on coming to these springs, had no more thought in his head of entering on the state of matrimony than he had of making a fortune, finds before he has drunk and bathed a week, that he is in the most imminent danger of making proposals. Of course, there is no such thing ever dreamed of as matchmaking at the White Sulphur. For that presupposes coldness of blood, and a lively activity of the calculating faculties; whereas life in the mountains stimulates only the fantastic fancy, and the more romantic sentiments. Noneither party is entrapped. On the contrary, what in the world is more natural when youth and maid drink together, every day, out of the same Sulphur Spring, than that they should have corresponding sensations in the region of the heart? They both look into the same pool; there cannot be two opinions between them, respecting the taste of the water; they make precisely the same exclamations in their attempts at swallowing it; they behold the self-same expression of face, reflected in each other's eyes as they set down the cup; and so, in a multitude of instances, before the lovers, feeling decidedly mawkish, if not desperately sick at heart, get so far back on their walk as the clerk's office, or the building containing the ball-room, or, at the very furthest, the first row of cottages, the momentous question is popped and answered. Love-making, therefore, may fairly be set down as one of the amusements of the Virginia Springs; whether it turn out to be really diverting to the parties concerned-cela dépend. But, in any event, there will always be somebody, who, quietly looking on from a distance, will extract more or less entertainment from the general aspects of the case, and who, especially if it is seen to go hard with the swain, as it often may, will really enjoy the agony, as one does a farce when they play tragedy at Burton's. Probably there is no better place in the States, for the study of character and manners, than these springs—and, this too, is an amusement. Sometimes half a dozen words, let fall in casual conversation, will throw as much light on the dispositions of men, and the working of their institutions, as a novel in two duodecimos-the reading of which will require half a day. "Jim," said a gentleman from Louisiana, traveling by the stage-coach to the Bath Alum; "Jim, come inside here, and let me have your place up there." "Massa," replied the negro, almost as confidently as if he had been his son, "dere's room enough here for two." "Jim," again said the gentleman, after he had taken his seat by the side of the black boy, on the top of the coach, "To-night you will see Sally; for we shall meet Master William at the Alum." "I'se right glad of dat," was the reply-Sally' being the maid of Master William's wife, and probably a good friend of Jim's. "Jim," said the master, once more, addressing the boy after half an hour's conversation with myself, "did you ever see mountains before?" "O, yes, massa, de river mount'ns on de Mis'sippi." "You mean when you were in Tennessee?" "Xactly-dat was in Ten'see.” This same Jim, shortly afterwards turning round towards another negro, like himself, about sixteen years of age, and sitting on the luggage, said, "Cæsar, look at dat line of mount'ns yonder; up and down-jist as reg'lar as you could draw 'em with a piece of chalk!" "Even the dusky soul of the poor African, then, in its better moods,' said I to myself, "is capable of being touched by the grace of nature; and feels, in the presence of these mountain tops, its dull faculties aroused, and strangely fascinated by the unwritten Word of God!" Another source of pleasure upon which none of the guests can refrain from relying, more or less, is the arrival Let it happen of the stage-coach. however often in the day, it is still an One expects his important event. friends; or if not, somebody may come he has met before; at any rate, he must see who is there. Down gets the first gentleman from the coach. He is tall, with a large proportion of bone in him, and only a moderHis rather long ate supply of muscle. brown hair is brushed, like a Methodist minister's, off his forehead, which is a high one, but not broad. The well tanned face indicates vigorous health, though a little sulphur water will be no disadvantage to the owner's liver. The air of calm self-possession, marks the man accustomed to command; while the slow gait, and quiet motions, suggest the habit of overseeing work, instead of performing it. The blue dress coat, with brass buttons, which is neither old nor new, together with light-colored pantaloons, black satin vest, dark silk cravat, and broad-brimmed felt hat, belong evidently to a gentleman somewhat careless of personal appearance, but of independent circumstances; in short, it requires no epaulettes to convince you at a glance, that the stranger is a colonel from one of the eastern counties of Virginia. When his luggage is taken down, you will find that it consists of a leather trunk, covered with small brass knobs, and marked with the owner's name in full, together with those of his county, and State; on the top of it is strapped a heavy over-coat, while at one end dangle an extra pair of boots. colonel travels without a hat-box, but has, instead, a well-worn pair of saddle The 47 bags, which are filled with the smaller 66 traps" as he may very likely want on the journey. On acquaintance, he proves to be a man of good plain sense, who belongs to what he denominates the Jeffersonian party in politics, tills the paternal acres very much after the fashion of his father before him, has generally a suit or two pending in the courts of law, but is as good-natured as he is high-minded, and really hates nobody except the abolitionists. Once sure that you are not of that fraternity, he will ask you to take a julep with him. The The general moves in more state; he arrives in his own coach and two, or even four-for this old fashioned turnout has not yet entirely disappeared in the progress of civilization and the rail. He may also have two or three outriders, in the shape of sons, on ponies, Sons, and black boys riding mares. servants, mares and horses, they are all of his own raising; but the carriage, possibly, may have belonged to his father, or some of his ancestors; for, it is after the ancient English model, round-topped, heavily timbered, and possessing the property, like Homer's heroes, of never growing old. trunks being piled up behind, and to them attached a water-pail, the footman is obliged to squeeze himself into what of the narrow seat in front is left by the tolerably broad-bottomed driver. The latter is an old whip, whatever Though without his age may be. gloves, he handles the ribbons with a careful precision, as if the leaders were every moment about to spring into a run; though in shoes, his immense feet hold well by the foot-board; and in a mere jacket, instead of the official capes, he produces, by means of his spread elbows, and blown-up air, scarcely less of a sensation than the coachman of my Lord Mayor of London. When this whole affair sweeps up to the door of the hotel, the excited landlord, especially if it be a four-in-hand, rings his bell with a fury which indicates that something extraordinary has happened; and the servants come running, as if they expected to witness the arrival of a dozen stage-coaches at once. But 'tis even more than that; 'tis a Virginia general, with horses and mares, black boys, and maids, wife and children. The hair of every waiter in the 48 house would stand straight on end, but The landlord opens the carriage door himself, hat in hand; and the general gets out. He is a shorter man than the colonel, by a half-inch, or more, He has a broader and still more open face, a wider back, and carries a respectable corporation before him. His clothes are thin, the colors light, and his face is red; while down out of his fub hangs a heavy gold chain, with two ponderous, ancestral seals, and a key between. The general takes off his white beaver courteously to the colonel, who instantly steps forward to shake him by the hand. While these congratulations are being exchanged, down the carriage steps carefully comes Dinah. She is dressed mostly in white, and has a cotton 'kerchief of this color, striped with blue, tied so completely over her hair, that only enough of it remains in sight to show that it is becoming silvered o'er with the pale cast of age; while, over the 'kerchief, and directly on the back of her head, is set a bonnet of open straw and muslin, originally made for the general's pretty daughter, when she entered her teens, and so small, withal, that it serves merely to cover the good dame's cerebellum. The baby is then handed out to Dinah; the rest follow; and when the trunks have been taken down, and the carriage pockets emptied, Cuffy, the coachman, effects his exit, with a crack of the whip, such as makes not only his own horses, but all those within an eighth of a mile, jump-each one as though it were about his own ears the lash was playing. And when now, any time within the next half-hour, the respectable Virginia farmer or esquire, well to do at home, rides up to the hotel door on his nag, a great-coat rolled up, and tied, together with an umbrella, behind the saddle, and a pair of leathern bags, containing a scanty change of apparel, projecting beneath his thighs, the careless landlord scarcely deigns to touch the bell once. A sleepy-looking negro holds the new-comer's bridle while he dismounts; another, lazily taking the saddle-bags on his shoulders and the roll under his arm, conducts him to his chamber; and there is no more noise made over the arrival, compared with the previous excitement, than might be likened to the blowing of a horn reversed. XIII. FINALE. For the rest-and my "forty days" in the Virginia hotels are now finished -there are a dozen or more of these springs. They all lie in the pretty Alleghanian valleys, within an easy day's, or half day's drive from each other-the White Sulphur being in the centre. The roads are generally good, with enough which are bad to accommodate those who require a little jolting. The stage-coaches are well-built; the drivers are skillful; and a dash, on the outside of the carriage, through these hills, refreshes and invigorates instead of fatiguing the traveler. In fact, the now almost obsolete pleasure of journeying by wheel, may here be enjoyed in its perfection, with social chat, preceded by no formal introductions, with acquaintances, and perhaps friends made, whom it will always be a pleasure to remember, and with such good, plain fare, at road-side inns, as the sharpened appetite will pronounce better than the very chef-d'œuvres of cooks in town. The Springs are of all waters, having for their principal ingredients sulphur, alum, iron, magnesia, or salt. are also tri-colored, with deposits, white, They red, and blue. Some are used for drinking, and some for bathing. The invalid complaint, say the doctors, it makes may have his choice; and whatever his no difference, he is sure to be cured. The cripple is set up at the Hot Springs, and the malade imaginaire is made whole at the Warm. The dyspeptic is put on alum water, and the Southwesterner, with bile in his blood and jaundice in his eyes, is ordered to drink of the White Sulphur or the Salt. The Healing Spring is good for the gout; ladies, weary after the winter's dancing, are strengthened by bathing in the two Sweet Waters; the Blue Sulphur, taken before eating venison steaks, is said to be excellent against all devils of the same color; and, ever since the publication of the learned Dr. Burke's book, it is every man's own fault, if he don't know that the Red Sulphur is a certain cure for consumption. The summer climate of these mountains is truly delightful. The boundless forests, on their tops, are, indeed, a magnet for the clouds; so that rain often occurs in the day's chapter of accidents. But it is merely a passing shower-a dash of big, fast-falling drops-soon gone over the hills and far away. ately off the declivities, the drops hang only a few moments from leaf and flower, and the brilliant sun, dissipating the vapors, dries the surface of the ground, and takes away all damp The water runs immedi ness. It is hot in the sunlight; but you live perpetually embowered in shade. In that, the mercury daily stands square against the point of summer heat, or occasionally a little above it, so that one revels in fine linen; and, if he makes any use of the mint which grows invitingly by every path-side, it is more as a luxury than a necessity. Sitting under the oaks, or promenading on the piazza, the summer idler finds that he can keep cool from one end of the dogdays to the other, without so much as touching a straw. This, to some persons, may be rather provoking than otherwise. But, with such pure air to breathe, fanned by the softest breezes instead of being whipped by the winds of the sea-shore bathing place, and nightly refreshed by sleep beneath a blanket, if you will, but with windows wide open, and disturbed by no worse serenading than that of the banjo, a man is sufficiently happy without stimulus or excitements of any kind. To look out upon the green pastures and the luxuriant woods-to wind gently up the hill-tops, or stroll by the side of brooks-to watch the never-ceasing play of light and shade on the mountains and in the valleys, and to gaze at the fantastic shapes of the summer clouds, now drifting in fleeces through the sky, now towering in gorgeous peaks and ranges above the horizon, and, at evening, aglow with all the prismatic flames which burst from the apparent disruption of the setting sun: in the enjoyment of these tranquil, rural pleasures, the soul quite forgets the more highly scented cups of civic dissipation, as well as the rile in the mug of the world's ordinary toil, and lives in the midst of such innocent delights as, by the poets, are fabled to lie around its infancy. VOL. VII.-4 THE FALCON. OUT in the sunshine, out in the air, My soul is a falcon strong; I mount aloft with the speed of thought, And strike at the quarry of wrong. The brave bright sun, so merry and old, But let my lady summon me back |