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(Original
For the ,Southern Literary Gazette.
A FUNERAL ODE:
ON THE DEATH OF THE PRESIDENT.
BV W. C. KICHAKDS.
“ Requiescat in pace.”
I.
’IV warrior fell —not in the tented field,
His country's Hag in triumph waving o’er him;
Death found him unarrayed with sword and
shield,
No bannered leagues of hostile men before
him:
When armed for fight and pressing on the foe,
Kadi breath he drew was hot wilh strife and
danger,
Like Vleshech in the flames, he seemed to go
Unharmed, to Fear and Death,alike a stranger.
ii.
When with a small hut gallant band of men
By Mexic legions he was close surrounded,
Hope, in his country’s bosom, died e’en then,
And through the land the note of fear re
sounded .’
Yet naught of ill the brave, old man befel,
The bauds of death he broke like flax asunder;
And many limes, as our proud annals tell,
His scathless daring filled all hearts with
wonder.
hi.
When Peace once more Iter dove-like eyes un
closed,
And smiled o’er all the land in rainbow
beauty,
The soldier from his arduous toil reposed,
And every tongue approved his perfect duty :
So weli he served his country in her wars,
She deemed him tit to wear her chiefest glory,
T hat name would add fresh lustre to her laws,
Which, with her arms, was linked in living
story.
IV.
Now, crowned wilh all the majesty oi state,
The patriot-soldier nerved his mighty spirit,
For every deed to make his country great,
And swell the fame her children should in
herit :
No selfish aim his lofty soul possest,
He worshipped ever at his country’s altar ;
And nursed a courage in his generous breast.
Which, in defence of Right, would never
falter.
v.
While thus on Fame’s high pinnacle he stood,
The gazing world forgot that he was mortal;
Heedless that one so true anil wise and good,
Might soon be called to puss Death’s frown
ing portal:
The summons came—as when a trumpet blast,
A sudden wakes a slumbering host to battle,
The dream that lulled them in a moment past—
They hear the cannons roar and loud drums
rattle.
vi.
The brave old hero heard the battle-call,
And met his only conqueror—Death—un-
daunted ;
The King of Terrors could not him appal,
Who yet no idle self-reliance vaunted:
He died as dies the patriot and the man,
His duty done—his soul to God commended :
His country saw with pride the race he ran,
And weeps that such a bright career is
ended!
lulq 15, 1850.
(Original Coirs.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
LA COQUETTE.
BY T. ADDISON RICHARDS.
“Time sped on, and the period of Mr.
Eaton’s visit was still extended. Day
alter day and night after night found
him at the mansion of the Walbur
ton s; until lie eame to l*e universally
regarded as the accepted suitor of the
admired helle of the village. Being a
man of the noblest heart, with a won
derful intellect and singularly tascina
img manners, he won all hearts and
even —-apparently —left some real im
pression upon that of Henrietta her
s‘lt. It was generally supposed that
the haughty and capricious beauty at
length really and truly loved, for she
was known not to be passionless if sel
*lsh. Despite my first natural preju-
Jiet > against Eaton, 1 soon learned to
Aspect and love him; so that, know
‘“g Henrietta so well, and observing
tar to practice towards him the very
**<o6 dangerous arts which had been
s ‘> fatal to myself and others, I grew
ailJ dous for my friend’s happiness. In
rn y position, though, 1 felt that any in
terference on my part would be very
unwarrantable, since my hints might,
reasonably enough, be supposed to
s pnng from some malicious and miser
hle feeling of petty revenge.
” W ith the flight of time these fears
o
“1 mine were entirely lulled, and, not-
Wl thstanding mv scepticism, I was con
strained to think the girl, at least, sin
’ e| e in her attachments to Harry Eaton.
‘‘re she not so, 1 felt that my warn
would now be too late; for my
generous friend’s love, was boundless
as the sea. and his confidence as deep.
j) x
“‘neath a quiet exterior, he possessed
very volcano of passion, which 1 was
’ “ ,lv 'inced would in this affair be fully
Ul( used for good or for evil, as the
’ might prove. With the gayest
Ul, t ieipations for the future, Harry at
” “gth took his departure from ll***,
‘“ prepare his city home, for his pro
-1 “‘ Ne< l bride, whom he was pledged to
“ l ‘m within the brief compass of two
I s months.
tae approaching nuptials of the
“ llll g couple, now made the all en
"•sing theme of discourse upon the
J! | |,s °’ the good villagers of H***.—
‘ lUs it continued until about two
_ after Harry’s departure, when a
a mmei mm Mk mwm m mmmm. &m m® mmm> mb i® mmM* wmmmm.
new cause for speculation absorbed the
minds of the fickle populace. This
new and surprising event was nothing
\ess than the debut at the principal
hotel in the town, of a real, live, whis
kered, moustached and shampooed
count, with servant and baggage to
match. Shall 1 paint the sensation cre
ated by this wonderful apparition ?
What was the gay coat of Col. Charles
Benedict, or the quietly growing repu
tation and slender wealth of Mr. Henry
Eaton to the person, rank, fortune and
graces of the most noble Count Bou
teille D’Eau! Heavens! the whole
village was in the highest possible fever
of excitement and expectation ! Mam
mas looked meaningly at their daugh
ters, and then the brows of mammas
clouded as the ways and means of se
curing the society of the distinguished
Count, too slowly developed them
selves, even in their ever-ready brains.
Shall I depict the general envy when
it was known that the noble stranger’s
first visit, was to the lady Henrietta;
and when the report was, on the fol
lowing afternoon confirmed by the ap
parition of the favoured belle, mounted
upon a noble steed and attended by
another exactly similar, upon which
gracefully bent, the form of the gallant
Bouteille D’ Eau !
“ Henrietta seemed fully conscious
of her triumph, for proudly did she re
turn the glances of her female friends,
and intense was the hauteur of the
smile w ith which she answered the look
of appeal find interrogation which 1
gave her upon the part of my friend
Eaton. I saw', with sorrow, that the
worst feelings of her nature, which un
der the pure influence of Harry’s sin
cere eloquence and love, had slumbered
—were again breaking forth, and with
renewed force. Here was food for the
loftiest vanity ! Not only was there
the pride of birth and rank, but the
wealth to maintain it, in its utmost ex
travagance.
In my own visits to the Walburton’s
I never heard the name of Eaton men
tioned, although the bridal day was
quickly drawing nigh. The everlasting
Count, with his quiet air of nonchalence
and savoir viore , always presented him
self, or if, for a moment, he was happi
ly absent from the scene, his abomina
name was unceasingly beat into my
poor ears. It was ‘ the Count did this,
and the Count did that; or Monsieur
le Compte thinks so, and Monsieur le
Compte thinks thus; Monsieur goes
here and Monsieur goes there, until at
last, in my impatience, I wished truly
and sincerely, and without any equivo
cation that among all his goings, he
would have the extreme politesse to go
to the d —l!
“ In this critical posture of affairs, I
surmounted all feelings of idle delicacy,
and wrote seriously to Harry, inform
ing him of rny anxiety, and urging him
to make all dilligence to defend his in
terests in person. In his reply to this
communication, he thanked me for my
kind solicitude, but thought my fears
quite groundless and expressed his un
qualified reliance upon Henrietta’s con
stancy ! rejoicing, even, that chance
had presented her so excellent an op
portunity to prove her truth. ‘Should
she not bear the test,’ he added, - 1 shall
esteem myself unhappy, not in having
expbsed her to it, but in her want of
love to withstand so weak atrial. Un
happy in having worshiped at an un
worthy shrine, but fortunate in season
ably detecting the unworthiness.’
“ Alas ! little was there in the un
lovely character of Henrietta to claim
this exalted confidence. To say that
he was blind to her faults, would be
doing injustice to his knowledge of the
human heart and his intuitive skill in
rightly reading the spring of human
conduct. But with him the ‘imagina
tion all compact’ displayed the never
failing strength of union and this power
of the fancy was often daringly permit
ted to run away with sober reason.—
Ilis extremely sanguine temperament
led him to hope more good of his fel
lows, than his reflection taught him he
had any right to expect, Ilis percep
tion therefore not only of defect but of
great faults in the character of his be
loved, had not the weight with him,
which might have been expected. He
ascribed them to the ill-effects of in
judicious training and unwise associa
tion, and he loved to regard her not on
ly as his cherished wife, but as the
child and pupil whose mind and heart
he should develope and perfect by the
master power of love. Thus her faults
so far from destroying his love, served
but as new fuel to the flame. But
while it can be readily understood how
a man like Ilenry Eaton, should thus
hopefully deck his ideal, it may be a
matter of more wonder, how he was
first led to build that ideal with such
faulty materials, and upon so unstable
a foundation. It is from the very rea
| son that he was what he was, that this
result ensued, a man with duller intel
lect, with less pure and fervent fancy ;
a being more of the ‘earth, earthy’
would have better judged between the
rock and the sand, and have paid more
defcranee to coming winds and rains
and floods.
“In his first interview with Henrietta,
his eye and fancy as an artist and as a
worshipper of human loveliness were
enraptured and dazzled. In after in
tercourse he was more seriously at*
tracted by the sparkling vivacity and
wit, which unfolded this angelic beauty
in a thousand changing and ravishing
lights. The gentle and apparently un
conscious insinuation of her admiration
of his character and genius, was well
and skillfully timed; for few are the
souls quite dead to polished and judi.
cious flattery. The humble deference
paid to his slightest word ; the agita
ted movement and the mantling blush
when he drew nigh, so inimitably as
sumed ; the abstracted and earnest
gaze upon his face, withdrawn in con
fusion when observed; the thousand
other artful betrayals of a reverance
and love which she seemed to wish to
but could not conceal, formed the su
preme and omnipotent lever with which
the wily and heartless girl had won
other hearts, and now raised from its
iealous depths that of the dreaming
Henry Eaton.
The coquette, perhaps, loved the
poet, as well as she could love any
thing ; for his loyal and unselfish de
votion had loudly spoken to whatever
of goodness and truth remained in her
heart. Whether these holier impulses
would have retained the ascendancy
had Eaton remained by her side, is
doubtful. He was not there to warn
and reprove, while the most noble
Bouteille D” Eau, the ‘observed of all
observers,’ the noble scion of a noble
house, the happpy heir of Fortunatus,
the Delphos ot the bean monde , the ir
risistable Monsieur le Cornpte —was
there to bewilder and intoxicate !
“The infallible upshot of all this
came like a thunder bolt upon poor
Harry when he was up to his elbows
in the suds of his preparations and
schemes for the girl’s happiness. Una
ble to realize that such treachery could
exist beneath so angelic a guise, he
would fain have persuaded himself that
it was but a gay jest meant to test his
love. Under this illusion he wrote to
Henrietta, but her reply, with a very
slight outlay of feeling, confirmed the
truth of the disette ; while the return
of his letters—l never heard any thing
of the gifts—served as a corroboratory
supplement thereto.
“ To Harry the affair was much less
indifferent. Unwilling still to believe
her so false, and,from his deeply cherish
ed love, maddened by the thought of
forever resigning her to another, he
made a last appeal, in which he poured
out his whole strong soul, with an elo
quence which could not have failed in
reaching a heart worthy of the offering.
Unable to restrain his impatience, he
took his seat in the coach which suc
ceeded the post containing his letter,
resolved to follow it and in person learn
the worst; while he yet hoped to save
her who had so long an d near his
heart, and occupied his hourly thoughts.
“Reaching the village, he repaired,
without a moments delay, to the man
sion of the Walburtons. Receiving
no answer to his knock upon the half
opened door, he entered the parlour and
seated himself in his old familiar place
upon the sofa, while his brain burned
with fever and excitement. Scarcely
was he thus established, when the sound
of voices reached him from the adjoin
ing room. It was Henrietta’s boudoir.
She herself, appeared to be present, as
also her brother, and Monsieur le
Cornpte Bouteille D’ Eau, whom he re
cognized from the manner in which he
was addressed. Henrietta and her
lover were commenting upon some
manuscript which young Walburton
was reading for their edification. Eaton
was stupified to hear under such cir
cumstances, and in such a tone of levi
ty —the passionate words of his own
last letter to Miss Walburton ! He
listened scarcely conscious of what he
did.
“ ‘Attention Henrietta !’ cried the
youthful Walburton. ‘ Here is a
precious monceau which holds out a
chance for you yet to repent and be
converted.’
“ Then came the reading of the fol
lowing extract from the letter. ‘I am
not ignorant of your failings my sweet
Henrietta, and I know that you some
times give way, for a moment, to the
weak influences of vanity. If such a
feeling has prompted you in the present
sad case, I know that it must pass
away even in the hour of its birth. —
You cannot sacrifice, to such an idle
and pitiful impulse, the fifith, love and
boundless adoration which alone make
wedded life happy and joyous. You
were vowed to me, dearest, when I
know you must have been sincere, and
you will not question the truth of my
own heart. Reflect, oh reflect my
Henrietta before it be too late! Cast
not love from you. Let us remember
the past only as a frightful delirium
and once more be happy.’
‘ ‘Poor fellow !’ soliloquized Henri
etta, ‘ how T infatuated—only to think
CHARLESTON, SATURDAY, AUG. 10, 1850.
of my having been in earnest! of my
ever having seriously loved him ! Ab
surd !’
“‘Wery absurd weary,’ added the
Count, ‘ But ’tis a charming letter ’pon
honor ! Que le (liable m'eniporte, if it
is not most remawkably noice!’
Mr. Benedict’s recital was here again
interrupted by the suffering occupant
of the hut, in which they wt re sojourn
ing. \Y hatever her bodily pain, her
mental anguish appeared very intense,
from the despair with which the ejacu
lation of ‘ may God forgive!’ was
wrung from her colourless and quiver
ing lips, The auditors preserved a
strict silence for some instants, but as
she uttered nothing furthur, the narra
tive was continued as before. The
poor woman’s prayer, however, seemed
to fall Avith a strange effect upon the
ear of Mr. Benedict, or else the asso
ciations awakened by his theme afflict
ed him, for he afterwards spoke with
much less of careless humour.
“At the heartless laugh which fol
lowed the elegant speech of tne worthy
Count, Eaton s spell was broken. In
all the dignity of insulted pride and
abused confidence he made but one
stride to the apartment, appearing be
fore the astonished inmates as a terri
ble spectre from the g’rave. It is said
that Henrietta grew pale and almost
fainted at*the dreadful reproach con
veyed in his cold and speaking look.
“ ‘Madam !’ said he after a moments
pau.,e, ‘may 1 beg you to return me
that letter, as I hereby withdraw every
syllable which it contains. I am in
debted to you for some hours of false
hope, fully counterbalanced by many
yet to come of bitter memory. Think
not that 1 regret your loss ! no ! I es
teem it the happiest day of my life
which has shown you to me in vour
true colours ! In remembrance of the
past, I cannot curse you madam; but
rather would 1 pray heaven to pardon
your black treachery, as 1 now forgive
you ! farewell madam! farewell!’
“ ‘Stop sir !’ interposed the youthful
scion of the Walburtons. ‘This in
trusion and these words to mv sister
are insufferable ! your card sir, and
my friend, here, will seek of you on my
part, satisfaction for this insult!’
“Eaton bestowed a smile of min
gled bitterness and contempt upon the
trio, as he replied, ‘not you sir ! I can
not raise my hand against her brother.
Give your weapon sir, to him, (point
ing contemptuously at the Count,) he
is a man of rank and of the world, who
doubtless knows better the use of such
implements than you or 1!’
“ The Count was about to interfere
at this stage of the proceedings, but
the brother interrupted him by turning
hastily to Eaton and answering, ‘ Be
it so. Bouteille D’ Eau has, perhaps,
a better right to defend the honour of
Henrietta than myself. I present you,
Mr. Eaton, to rny friqpd the Count
Bouteille D’ Eau.’
“ The Count responded to this intro
duction with an easy smile, as he yawn
ed forth, ‘Charmed to make your ac
quaintance Mr. Eating!’ .
“ Thus belligerently brought togeth
er the rivals formally exchanged cards,
and Eaton without another word proud
ly withdrew.
“ And what of the duel ?” eagerly
demanded one of the young ladies, as
Mr. Benedict paused for breath, “Was
the Count killed ? Aye?”
“ Not quite,” replied the historian,
laughing. “ The preparations for the
meeting were duly made, but when
the parties should have assembled, the
noble Count was ex-officio. It seems
that having imbibed, somehow or other,
a very strange antipathy to the disa
greeabl smell of powder, he had, upon
the morning in question, taken a very
early ride to strengthen his nerves, and
from which he has not returned to break
fast even unto this day !
“It was soon after truly reported
that he had nobly resigned his style
and title, and had mingled in a truly
republican spirit with the humble peo
ple of the good old city of Mannahat
ten. It was there, that six months af
ter the event related, one day stepping
into my barbers and happening to gaze
up into the face of the able manipula
tor behind my chair, I descried my old
acquaintance Bouteille D Eau! Lest
any sign on my part of recognition,
should agitate him to the endangering
of my most innocent jugular, I did not
seem to remember his countenance,
and finally departed leaving him quite
unconscious that he had been recog
nized.
“ This and many similar stories get
ting abroad but added to the deep mor
tification and shame, which Henrietta
and her family experienced from many
rapidly succeeding causes of chagrin
and distress. Among other things was
the loss of their never very large for
tune. Afterwards came the death of
both parents. The intemperate and dis
solute course of the brother, soon con
signed him to the felon’s home. These
trials and adverses, added to the com
plete loss of public esteem which Hen
rietta experienced; the ridicule and
contempt which every where greeted
her; with, it may be, some little re
gret at losing the love of Eaton, in
duced a sickness which passed from
fever to that beauty marring disease
—the small-pox.
“ Thus with the loss of home, friends,
lovers, beauty and health, she left the
village and wandered forth a poor mis
erable exile, to seek her bread from the
charity of a cold world. Many at
tempts have since been since made to
discover her retreat, Eaton, especially
has sought, but in vain, to find her. He
remembers her yet in pity, and w T ould
fain know that she is in no physical
want.
“ < )ur Harry has a noble heart, and
although I have not much faith in
woman’s vows, yet I trust that Byron’s
idea touching ‘two or one being al
most what they seem,’ is not altogether
aphochryphal; and that if not our dis
tinguished friend may have found in
his sweet Ella, that very one rara
avis ! He deserves it, and a long and
happy life say I to him and his charm
ing bride!
“ Bride ! his bride !” shrieked the in
valid to whom we have already more
than once alluded, and who, as the
speaker finished his story — making a
desperate effort raised herself in her
bed and gazed upon the visitors Avith
sunken and haggard eyes. “ O God !
his happy bride!”
“Just Heaven!” cried Charles, his
eyes fixed upon the emaciated wretch,
“It must be—it is her! vet in that
wasted and degraded figure, I cannot
recognize the lovely being of a few
brief years ago ! Tell me poor woman
—who are you ?”
“Oh!” bitterly sighed the invalid,
heedless of the question addressed to
her, “Sorely, sorely, my God am I
punished, and yet 1 have deserved it
all! Harry married and happy, while
I am dying a wretched outcast, and —
she —his—bride !”
“ Who are you V’ reiterated Charles.
“His bride! 6 God ! his bride !”
“ Henrietta !” said Charles earnestly
and drawing nearer to the bed.
“ Yes ! Henrietta WaJburton !”
screamed the poor sufferer convulsive
ly, and then sinking exhausted upon
her miserable pallet. After a brief
pause, she whispered hoarsely. “Par
don—Charle —for all the wrong I have
done you —I have suffered—oh ! how
much—now—l am—dying Charles! oh!
pardon—and tell Harry—not io—curse
me—now’ —life is ebbing —forgive—
forgive—!”
Thus miserably and ignobly passed
away,the stricken spirit from that form,
once so full of high and haughty hope.
Upon that mournful couch, what a
moral did our merry party read to their
merry tale.
€l)t llruiruier.
SUMMER TRAVEL IN THE SOUTH.
1. Letters from the Alleghany Mountains.
By Charles Lanman, author of “ A Tour to
the River Saguenay,” “ A Summer In the
Wilderness,” and “ Essays for Summer
Hours.” New York: Geo. P. Putnam. 1849.
2. Georgia Illustrated, in a series of Views.
Engraved from original sketches by T. Addi
son Richards. The topog aphical depart
ment edited by William C. Richards.
[concluded from last week.]
But, we must hasten, warned by our
limits that we shall have but little
space to do justice to the exquisite
scenery of our sister State of Georgia.
Still, we cannot leave this region of
South-Carolina without a glance at
another of its sylvan beauties. Let us
hurry to the mountains of Saluda, and
look at the falls, vulgarly called slick
ing—a corruption, in all probability, of
the Indian word, Salicana. Some eight
miles from this glassy cataract, you
find the nearest stopping-place or inn.
The road thence, leads, as the trave
ler chooses, over the Table Rock, which
we have already visited, or by another
route to the right. In our own visit,
the latter, as the nearer route, was
taken. From the piazza of your inn,
you have a magnificent view of Table
mountain on the north. A beautiful
valley, at the foot of this mountain, is
prettily styled “ The Valley of the
Cove.” It is almost environed by the
Saluda, which winds about it —a stream
of moderate size—on the northern side.
Our course, for a while, pursued the
margin of this stream —sometimes it
led us through it. At length we reach
ed a cottage at the foot of the Saluda
Mountain, and in close proximity to
the falls —let us call them the Saiiuica
—which leap down its rugged sides.—
We may mention, however, while thus
seeking, as we think, to restore the In
dian title, that our hostess, speaking of
the subject, insisted that they were
called Slicking, for the excellent reason
that they so sleekly tumbled over.—
But this would apply to every cataract.
The waters accumulate amidst the rae
anderings of the Slicking River, and
do not seem to get on very sleekly un4
til they take their final plunge. Saluda
Mountain, at the falls, lies within the
district of Greenville, some thirty
miles from its district town. The fall
is the boast of all this section of the
State, and is, indeed, well-deserving of
its reputation. You ascend the moun
tain on foot. Some breath, and a fre
quent pause, is required for the task.
You follow the windings of the river,
and, after a stride of a quarter of a
mile, you reach what is called “ The
Trunk,” it being the point of junction
for two separate branches of the stream.
Either of these branches you may pur
sue in your further progress. The
space between them gradually .in
creases, as you ascend, and they are
widely asunder at the summit. Be
tween the two, you hear the perpetual
music of their rushing waters, like rival
voices—deep calling unto deep—and
seeming to regulate their mutual sounds
in -the recognition of an equal sympa
thy. They both abound in cascades,
which cry, at intervals, loudly to each
other, doubtles, even, when there are
no listeners—so profligate are they of
their music. The right hand arm of
the stream is much the most preferred
by visitors, as being much the most im
pressive and picturesque. “The Trunk,’’
by the way, must not be passed impa
tiently ; though your better plan will
be to examine it on your return. Here,
you may sit and ponder, equally busy
with thought and eye. Here, you may
witness, at once, the marriage of the two
streams, and the ardour with which
they precipitate themselves, at the same
moment, to a fond embrace in the de
licious bed below. This lies some
seventy feet perpendicularly down, and
would have done for Sappho as effectu
ally as Leucadia. Find your way to
it, without following the example of
the cascade or the poetess. It is easy
to do so. The path is’ quite accessible
to a patient spirit and tolerably sure
foot. Nay, for that matter, you need
not be too cautious; only, do not hur
ry yourself, lest you lose some of the
precious beauties of the scene. The
place is full of them. And, now, that
you are at The basin, stop and take
breath. Sit and survey. Recline and
meditate. It is a refuge quite as sweet
and secure as that of Rasselas in the
Happy Valley. It the very paradise
of shade and sensibility. It is the dia
mond in the desert, like that famous
fountain which witnessed the combat
of Saladinand Richard Coeur de Lion ;
—like, yet unlike. Here is shade as
well as seclusion-—coolness as well as
water —beauty and grandeur as well
as repose and solitude. No retreat
could be imagined more equally wild
and winning—none so pleasing and
picturesque. The sun, save at meridi
an, is seldom permitted to peep into
tAis holy chamber. Ho may safely
presume to do so at that hour, as we
may then suppose the wood nymphs
and the naiads, all to have made their
toilet. And, now, that you have rest
ed, look around you—look before you
—look above you. On one side you
behold the mighty parapets of rock
—the great towers —the perpendicular
columns of venerable stone, which the
guardian Nature has upheaved as ap
propriate homes and temples for the
protection of her favourites. It is, you
perceive, a bulwark ; and it is only in
the crevices of the decaying masonry,
along the sides, that Beauty has been
permitted to insert her loving fibres,
he r sweet shrubs, her velvet mosses,
her chaplets of softest pink and gayest
orange. Now, cast your eyes opposite,
for the crowning drama, of which this
is the appropriate scene and theatre.—
Lo ! the two snow-white forms leapiug
over, with the action of a mingled
grace and terror, to bury themselves
at our feet. There are the two white
masses of cascade, with hair streaming
in the wind, like that of the Welch
Bards described by Gray, darting head
long from the heights. This unique
drama—this sacrifice upon the twin al
tars of Terror and of Beauty—takes
place every day. There is no post
ponement of the performance, even
though there be no spectators but the
vulture and the wolf! But, let us hast
en our march for Georgia.
Our fair sister was the region of most
attraction during the last summer.—
The facilities for approaching her places
of magnificence and beauty were great
er than those of the adjoining States.
She reaped largely of the benefits of
that travel which cholera and abolition
denied to the North. Her highways
and inns were crowded, and the glories
of her mountain scenery became fully
known, for the first time, to her neigh
bours. Her watering places are singu
larly numerous. Her medicinal fount
ains are equal in virtue to any in the
South- Every upland county boasts
of its particular blessings of hygeia.—
Her waters have properties, besides, to
which other'regions make no claim. —
They bring inspiration, as well as health,
to tliose who drink. A single cup con
verts a plain man into a Troubadour,
lie wakes at morning and finds himself
famous “ blasted by Phoebus with po
etic fire,” and he proceeds to sing, in
strains that will be remembered when
those of Milton are forgotten. Beauty
listens with rapt senses to the unwonted
melody, and in the enjoyment of anew
luxury, the pleasures of a ball-room are
abandoned. From a hundred watering
places the pealing accents ascend. —
Madison’s Gordon’s Rowland’s, echo
to one another with a lyrical overflow,
that sweeps away the confounded sense
and “ laps it in Elysium.” It is the
first time, perhaps, in the history of the
world, when chalybeates answer the
purposes of champagne—when, to pro
duce all the effects of nectar and am
brosia, one has only to swallow a few
quarts of salts and magnesia, in tolera
bly thick solution.
Thus health, youth, beauty, taste and
art, attended by song and sunshine,
walk the faces of her mountains, and
group themselves joyously about her
fountains and her streams. Madison
Springs are deservedly famous in the
regards of Georgia. A fine house,
kept, and crowded usually with
excellent company, makes it easy to
forget Newport and Saratoga. It would
task a more fruitful pen than ours to
de cribe the variety of influences which
serve to beguile the thousands who
seek this place of re tort, and forget the
progress of time in the unceasing
round of their enjoyments. The ball,
the picnic , the fete champetre, the
soiree, the tableaux vivans, nightly,
render life a charming illusion, as well
for heart as fancy ; and, if the eye is
permitted to see the dropping of the
sands in the hour-glass, they are of gold
and amber as they flow. The beauty
of the wings of time, in this region,
THIRD VOLUME-NO. 15 WHOLE NO 115.
makes one heedless of his flight. Here
was the best society in Georgia, ilitli
er came her selectest circles. You
might meet at the same moment the
gravest signiors of the State, dignified
sage's of the long robe, yielding them
selves to the fascinations of the most
piquant of its fashionables; the stern
man of public cares, revelling in the
gardens of Armida, under the grateful
despotism of the Faery Queene. Nor
is Madison’s Springs alone. It is only
one of many places of like attraction,
which, as our purpose is not a catalogue,
we need not particularize. If the read
er is curious, let him look to the second
work in our rubric, the “ Georgia Illus
trated,” which is a beautiful specimen
of the arts in the South. Here he will
find full and interesting details of much
that is conspicuous in the resources and
scenery of our lively and lovely sister.
The volume of Mr. Lanman will also
supply him with much information in
respect to her scenery and characteris
tics. He gives sketches of Dahlonega,
a region of equal health and beauty, to
which the route of travel, last season,
did not sufficiently incline; —of the
Valley of Nacoochee—Mount Yonah
—Clarksville—the Cascade of Toceoa,
and the Cataract of Tallulah. Here is
his description of Toceoa :
“ The Tuccuah is a small stream—a mere
brooklet, and, for the most part, is not at all
distinguished for any other quality than those
belonging to a thousand other sparkling streams
of this region ; but, in its oceanward course, it
performs one leap which has given it a reputa
tion. On this account the Aborigines christened
it with the name of Tuccoah , or the beautiful.
To see this cascade, in your mind’s eye, (and I
here partly quote the language of one who
could fully appreciate its beauty,) imagine a
sheer precipice of gray and rugged rock, one
hundred and eighty-six feet high, with a little
quiet lake at its close, surrounded by sloping
masses ol granite and tail shadowy trees.—
From the overhanging lips of this cliff, aloft,
between your upturned eyes and the sky, comes
a softly flowing stream. After making a joy
ous lea;), it breaks into a shower of heavy spray,
and scatters its drops more and more widely
and minute, until, in little more than a drizzling
mist, it scatters the smooth, moss-covered stones
lying immediately beneath. All the way up
the sides of this precipice cling, wherever space
is afforded, little tufts of moss and delicate
vines and creejiers, contrasting beautifully with
the solid granite. There is no stunning noise
of falling waters, but only a dripping, pattering,
plashing in the lake ; a murmuring sound, which
must be very grateful during the noontide neat
of a summer day. There comes also a soft,
cool breeze constantly from the foot of the pre
cipice, caused by the falling shower, and this
ripples the surface ol the pool, and gently agi
tates the leave.- around and overhead.”
The Hon. R. M. Charlton, in the
“Georgia Illustrated,” thus describes
tiic same scene:
“ Several years have passed away since I
last stood at the beautiful Fall of the Toecoa.
It was one of the delightful summer days pecu
liar to the climate of Habersham county. The
air had all the elasticity of the high region that
surrounded us, and the scenery was of a cha -
after to elevate our spirits and enliven our
fancy.
“ A narrow passage led us from the road
side to the foot of the Fall. Before us appeared
the perpendicular face of the rock, resembling
a rugged wall, and over it
‘The brook came babbling down the mountain’s side.’
The stream had lost much of its fullness from
the recent dry weather, and as it became lashed
into fury by its sudden fall, it resembled a silver
ribbon, hung gracefully over the face of the
rock, and waving to and fro with the breath of
the wind. It reminded me, more forcibly than
any other scene I had ever beheld, of the poetic
descriptions of fairy-land. It is just such a
place—as has often been remarked by others—
where wc might expect the fays and elves to
assemble of a moonlight night, to hold their
festival on the green bank, whilst the spray,
clothed with the varied colours of the rainbow,
formed a halo of glory around their heads. It
is indeed beautiful, surpassingly beautiful : the
tall trees reaching hut half way up the moun
tain height, the silver cascade foaming o’er the
brow of the hill, the troubled waters of the
mimic sea beneath, the lulling sound of the
falling water, and the call of the mountain
birds around you, each and all come with a
soothing power upon the heart, which makes it
anxious to linger through the long hours fM’ the
summer day.
“ Tearing ourselves away from the enchant
ment that held us below, we toiled our way to
the top of the Fall, using a path that wound
around the mountain. When we reached the
summit, we trusted ourselves to such support as
a small tree which overhangs the precipice
could give us, and looked over into the basin
beneath. Then, growing bolder as our spirits
rose with the excitement of the scene, we
divested ourselves of our boots and stockings
and waded into the stream until we came
•vithin a few feet of the cascade. This can be
done with but little danger, as the brook keeps
on the even and unruffled tenor of its way until
just as it takes its lofty plunge into the abyss
below.
“ The height of the Fall is now 186 feet;
formerly it was some feet higher, but a portion
of the roek was detached some years ago by
the attrition of the water, and its fall has de
tracted front the perpendicular descent of the
stream.”
“ Toccoa forms but one of the beautiful
links in the chain of mountain scenery in the
north-western part of Georgia. There may be
beheld the grandeur of the lofty Yonah, the
magnificenc and terrific splendour Tallulah,
The quiet and romantic vale of Nacoochce, and
the thousand brilliant landscapes that adorn
and beautify the face of nature. All these at
tractions will, doubtless, before many score of
years have passed away, make Habersham
county and its environs the summer retreat of
Georgians from the low country, and help to
unite in closer bands the dweller on the sea
shore and the inhabitant of the mountain.”
Toccoa is, indeed, a mountain beau
ty of rare loveliness. The eascade falls
in a sheet most like a thin gauzy veil,
through which sparkles a galaxy of lit
tle brilliants. It is the emblem of
equal purity and beauty. Its adjuncts
are all of the same character. Beauty,
rather than grandeur, is the word by
which to describe it, though the latter
element is not wanting to its charms,
it is only held in subjection to the su
periour sweetness of its fascination.
Toccoa is a lyric to the eye. It is a
single outgushing of fond musical notes,
wit h a sudden and sparkling overflow
wildly quick, but rarely temperate;
eager and full of impulse, yet chastened
by the exquisite method of a grace and
tenderness which prevail throughout
the picture.
A few miles from Toccoa is another
scene, in rich and absolute contrast
with it. If Toecoa is the beautiful,
Tallulah is the terrible! We give a
portion of the description of Mr. La li
man :
“ The Cherokee word I'aUulah or Tarrurah
signifiies the terrible, and was originally ap
plied to a river of that name, on account ot its
fearful falls. This river rises among the Alle
ghany mountains, and is a tributary of the Sa
vannah. Its entire course lies through a moun
tain land, and in every particular it is a moun
tain stream, narrow, deep, clear, cold, and sub-
ject to every variety of mood. During the first
half of its career, it winds among the hills, as
if in uneasy joy, and then, for several miles, it
wears a placid appearance, and you can scarcely
hear the murmur of its waters. Soon tiring
of this peaceful course, however, it narrows
itself for the approaching contest, and runs
through a chasm whose walls, about four miles
in length, are for the most part perpendicular,
and, after making, within the space ot half a
mile, a number of leaps, as the chasm deepens,
it settles into a turbulent and angry mood, and
so continues for a mile and a hall further, until
it leaves the chasm and regains its wonted
character. The Falls of Tallulah, properly
speaking, are five in number, and have been
christened Lodore, Tempesta, Oceana, Horicon
and Serpentine. Their several heights are said
to be forty-five feet, one hundred, one hundred
and twenty, fifty and thirty feet, making, in
connection with the accompanying rapids, a
descent of at least four hundred feet, within
the space of half a mile. At this point the
stream is particularly winding, and the cliffs of
solid granite on either side, which are perpen
dicular, vary in height from six hundred to
niiie hundred feet, while the mountains which
back the cliff reach an elevation of perhaps
fifteen hundred feet. Many of ihe pools are
very large and very deep, and the walls and
rocks in their immediate vicinity are always
green with the most luxuriant of mosses. The
vegetation of the whole chasm is particularly
rich and varied. For you may find not only
the pine, but specimens of every variety of more
tender trees, together with lichens, and vines,
and flowers, which would keep the botanist
employed for half a century. Up to the pre
sent time, only four paths have been discovered
leading to the margin of the water, and to
make either of these descents requires much of
the nerve and courage of the samphire-gatherer.
Through this immense gorge a strong wind is
ever blowing, and the sun-light never falls upon
the cataracts without forming beautiful rain
bows, which contrast strangely with the sur
rounding gloom and horror: and the roar of
the waterfalls, eternally ascending to the sky,
comes to the ear like the voice of God, calling
upon man to wonder and admire.”
He goes into subsequent details,
which describe the several best points
of view along the Falls of Tallulah.
W e could wish that our Georgia friends
would lind out, and restore, the Indian
names of these places, instead of com
pelling us to borrow the stale epithets
employed in other places. What is
Lodore to us, or Horicon ? Let them
stay where they belong, and give us
our own sonorous names, which, as in
the ease of Tallulah itself, must always
been superior in diginity and music,
to the foreign graftings which we put
upon them. The “Georgia Illustrated”
contains finely engraved views, both of
Toccoa and Tallulah. That of Toc
ooah is very felicitous. We regard
that of Tallulah as quite unfortunate,
and conveying a most inadequate im
pression of the wondrous beauty and
sublimity, the terrible grandeur and
wild pow ers of the scene. If Toccoah
is the lyric of water-falls, Tallulah is
the grand five act drama, the sublime
and awful tragedy, scene upon scene,
accumulating with new r interest, until
the repose of death overspreads the
catastrophe. It so happens that Tallu
lah is a series of cascades, five in num
ber, with a pause between each, in
which the waters, exhausted apparently
by previous conflict, rest themselves
before resuming their fearful progress
to new struggles. These rests afford
you glimpses ot the, sweetest repose.
The stream seems momently to sleep,
and, in such lovely lakelets, that }ou
almost look to sec the Naiad Princess
emerging from the surrounding caves,
w ith loosened trusses, preparing for the
bath. Ihe next progress increases the
action and the interest of the scene,
until, at the close, you set; only the
convulsive forms below’ you, writhing
as it in death, and hear the deep groans
ot their panting agony, sent up to you
in an appeal that seems to ask for sym
pathy and vengeance. But, we have no
space left for description or dilation. —
Tallulah takes rank, with Niagara. If
inferior in the volume of its waters, it
is vastly superior in the vat iety of its
scenes. In Niagara you are the witness
of one grand, overwhelming catastro
phe. It is a single act, and all is over.
Here you have the whole drama, and
watch its progress with increasing inter
est,from the first to the final scenes. The
scenery of the; surrounding county is
also very far superior to any thing that
Niagara may boast. A landscape
painter might spend his life yvithin a
space of fifteen miles square, in this
neighbourhood, and find anew and no
ble subject for his pencil every day in
the year.
\\ 6 have said nothing, in our pro
gresses through the several States to
which we have given our attention, of
the thousand lovely traditions and do
mestic histories which crown nearly
every one of their scenes of beauty
with a commanding moral interest. —
1 hese must be reserved lor future
pages. Enough, in this place, te re
mark that the lover ot the legend may
find tresh food for the imagination at
every step he takes. The future bal
lad, monger may weave a thousand
border and Indian lays, from what he
hears, such as, allied with peculiar lo
calities, shall make them famous in the
affections, and objects of search and
study to the lover ot the marvellous.
It is indeed surprising what resources
for romance, for art, and poetry aceu
late about you as you proceed. The
genius loci and valley, stream, dell,
dingle and bosky wood, and temples
and memorials upon a thousand sum
mits, such as will make tor us a via
sacra, which the future will as greatly
love to tread, with a passionate venera
tion, such as we now feel when we
wander along the banks of the Illissus,
or muse upon the past beneath the
mountain summits of Taygetus and
jEgaleus.
Hut a truce to our travail. The sum
mer is begun, and our *• Soft-heads” are
already on the move. Their numbers,
however, are greatly diminished. They
have openened their eyes upon the
truths, North and South, which they
have been too slow to see—and will
not close them suddenly. In the
former, they see that neither peace,
nor security, nor comfort awaits them
they see hostility, envy, malice and
ad uncharitableness ; —in the latter,
the} discover abundance, harmony, a
world of treasures, equall\ open to
the mind and eye; and sympathies
which welcome them to abodes of hos
pitality, and regions equally precious to
the heart and fancy.