IT has been the custom, in years past, for the seekers of health or pleasure, as the warm sun and miasma of the lowlands warned them of approaching danger to turn their attention towards the North; and it is only of late that the Virginia Springs, with all their invigorating powers, have been the stopping-place of others than the proud sons and daughters of the Old Dominion. But even yet the mountains of Western North Carolina, with mineral waters equal to any, and a climate superior to any other, are comparatively neglected. And we see even prominent citizens of our own State, year after year, journeying to Saratoga, and other watering-places of the North. They are familiar with every spot at Niagara, or Saratoga, but cannot give an idea of the western part of their own State, except as they have scantily derived it from others.

Such an accusation, however, cannot so truthfully be brought against our brethren of the State of South Carolina. For many years it has been their custom to resort to our mountains for the promotion of their health, for recreation and pleasure. Many of the lovely vales of Western North Carolina are adorned with their neat cottages. A pride of State and section, which prevents their spending at the North that which can be kept at home, has caused them to find in our State a climate more pleasant than that of the North, mineral waters of equal efficacy, a home more comfortable, and company whose tastes and feelings more exactly coincide with their own. And to the shame of North Carolina be it said, that the first notice and the first patronage of her lovely transmontane section, should have come from another State. And the portion which they have visited and developed is but limited, in comparison with the great mass of country which remains comparatively unknown: a section of country covered with grand mountains, lovely and fertile valleys, and traversed by streams which, like everything emanating from the heavenly region, are pure and spotless as the crystal.

The greater portion of Western North Carolina is a large mass of table-land, situated, one might very properly say, upon the top of the Blue Ridge. This table-land is bounded on one side by the Blue Ridge, which, after running almost north and south, turns westwardly so as to become, for some distance, the boundary between the States of North and South Carolina. On the other side it is bounded by various ranges of mountains, all of which might be said to be but spurs of the great leading ridge. It is crossed by various ranges of mountains, many of them overtopping the surrounding boundary by fertile valleys, watered by streams of great rapidity and some size, and affording in amount of water power equal or superior to any other portion of the earth. A reference to the map, however, will show the reader all these peculiarities of the region of which it is our intention chiefly to speak.

The elevated situation of this table-land, its bracing atmosphere, fertile soil, and excellent water, all combine to make it a region of interest to any one who would seek refreshment for a care-worn body, or a place whereat to while pleasantly away the hot summer months. Besides, this section embraces elevations of land higher than any other in the eastern portion of our Union, which fact should be an inducement to all to visit there, and a source of pride to North Carolinians. The White Mountains of New Hampshire have been, for years, a place for resort and recreation; why should not the Black Mountains of North Carolina, with a climate certainly more agreeable, and a view equally as good, be so now?

There is, perhaps, no section, embracing so small a compass, for which nature has done so much as that composing the eight counties west of the Blue Ridge. Filled with scenery, at once grand and beautiful, it is, too, blessed with a soil miraculously fertile; while in mineral products it is rich, almost beyond belief. Gold, silver, lead, plumbago, and copper are found in abundance, and iron in immense quantities and of the best quality. Such a section cannot fail to be of interest to the traveller, and should be inviting to the emigrant. The products of the vales and hillsides, when the appetite is taken into consideration, are, too, of a character such as would make the veriest epicures smile with delight. The butter, milk, honey, beef, and mutton of the mountains, are unsurpassed. And, while we confess that, at some of the stopping-places, but indifferent fare is obtained, yet there are many where one will find the delicacies, as well as the substantials of life, served up in the best style.

The section embraced in the table-land west of the Blue Ridge, is composed of the counties of Cherokee, Macon, Jackson, Haywood, Henderson, Buncombe, Madison, and Yancey. The chief of these, which we shall treat of as a resort for the stranger, are the last four: their position having caused their more rapid advancement into public notice than the others. To reach any of these counties, it is almost a necessity first to go to the town of Asheville: such is the position in which the mountains run, that all roads seem naturally to converge at that point. And the traveller from the east, though he may stop awhile in the valley of the Catawba, seeks as his resting-place, this city amid the hills.

ASHEVILLE is finely situated in what might be termed a valley, through which flows the French Broad River, it having just received upon its bosom the Swannanoa. The rising ground from the valley, upon which the town is built, enables one to obtain from almost any point within its limits, a fine view. Near the town, in what might be said to be its rear, arises a small chain of mountains, from several peaks of which are obtained excellent views of the surrounding country, but more especially that looking towards Asheville. The valleys of the French Broad and of Hommony Creek, are stretched out before the eye, a scope extending over many miles, and taking in as fertile a region as the sun looks down on; while arising out of the valley, the solemn, gaunt Mount Pisgah lifts its sugar loaf peak to the skies, as if disdaining the more common formation in the mountains around. Far in the distance, through the low gap of Hommony Creek, may be seen the black summits of the Balsam Mountain, in Haywood County, a distance of about forty-five miles. To the northwest, the eye tires as it sweeps over the seemingly interminable ranges which rise above and beyond each other.

Satiated with the gaze, the beholder turns to the Valley, and traces amongst the rich green fields the course of the French Broad,—not as yet pent up in its rock walls, and foaming and

ASHEVILLE, we have stated, is the converging point of all the roads west of the Blue Ridge. It must therefore, be the same of all stage lines and, owing to its being the keystone to this great section, and formerly to the travel west, it is a distributing post-office. There are four routes, by stages, through which Asheville may be reached. Two in North Carolina, one from South Carolina, and one from Tennessee. One of the routes in North Carolina, and upon which we shall first remark, is called THE SWANNANOA, OR MORGANTON ROUTE.

It extends from Salisbury, via Statesville, Newton, Morganton, Marion, Pleasant Gardens, and Swannanoa Gap, to Asheville. Without a remark upon its scenery, we might say that, simply as a road, and as a line of stages, it is the best by which Asheville can be reached from Eastern North Carolina. About forty miles of the route is travelled in the cars of the Western Extension, and the rest is all in daylight over a good road, in good four-horse coaches. One of the editors of the N. C. Standard says of it:— “On the morning of the 7th, I took the stage for Asheville. Mr. C. S. Brown, formerly of Salisbury, but now proprietor of the Walton House, at Morganton, is the contractor on this route, and I do not believe there is a better stage line in the State. He has comfortable coaches, fine teams, and sober and careful drivers. I have no hesitation in recommending this route as far superior to any other going west. I have done a good deal of staging in my life, but never travelled on a line superior to this. Mr. Brown belongs to the ‘Young America’ class, and infuses vigor into all he touches. This route is the nearest, cheapest, and, by far, the best to Asheville.”

Statesville is a pleasant village, but not high enough to be called in the mountains. Its hotel, though, is excellent, and the traveller will never regret a stoppage there. The Female College is a fine building, and attracts some attention, but can only be seen in the distance by the through traveller. Newton, further on, is a small, quaint town, of rather a German origin, with which the traveller will have but little to do. Morganton, the, chief place in the route, is treated of in another chapter. In the railroad portion, thus, far, are some of the finest pieces of architecture anywhere in the South; and it would not be amiss for the traveller to defy railroad rules, and look out on the massive piles of granite over which he is passing. Leaving Morganton, we simply go through the village of Marion, and the next place of note which attracts the eye is Pleasant Gardens, near which, in the same valley of the Catawba, we find a stopping-place at Mr. Logan Carson's. This is a lovely spot. Nature did much, but the hand of art and taste has beautified full well. It might well be called an earthly Eden. And the beauty of the outside is but a type of the hearty welcome and excellent fare which await the sojourner within. This house is situated immediately upon the banks of Buck Creek, one of the prettiest mountain streams to be found anywhere, and within a few hundred yards of the Catawba. There are a number of fine drives hereabouts up the creek, a beautiful level running into the mountains, and either up or down the turnpike-road. It is one of the most attractive places to stop at in Western North Carolina.

Leaving Carson's, the traveller proceeds, gradually ascending, to the Swannanoa Gap. During this route, the Catawba, now a clear, pure, mountain stream, and its tributaries, are crossed many times. The swift water, as it dashes over the rocks, ever and anon resting in some pool, in the calm sweetness of repose, forms a pleasing feature in the route. From several points between Carson's and the Gap, fine views of a portion of the Black Mountains are obtained, and the high pinnacle of the Blue Ridge is in view at nearly every turn. Gradually the ascent of the mountain is made, the traveller passes the summit almost without knowing it, and is upon the great table-land of the west. Just at the Gap is a spring of excellent water, and of a very cold temperature. The traveller who drinks from it can say that he has drank from the head-spring of the Catawba River. Now commences the descent along the banks of the Swannanoa, with the exception of two or three miles so very gradual, that it has the appearance of a level, and, in a ride of eighteen miles from the Gap, Asheville is reached, just as the sun is setting beyond the western mountains, in all that crimson glory which is so peculiarly its vesture in mountainous countries.

A writer says of this Gap and the Swannanoa:“By noon the next day we reached the head-spring of the Catawba, which is about fifty yards from the top of the Blue Ridge. There we stopped to take a lunch. 'Tis a wild-looking place. The spring is thickly overshadowed with pretty trees, and is surrounded, except on the side next the road, with a rich carpet of green moss. The Castalian fount on Parnassus could not have been more charming than this; nor could it, think we, have more successfully inspired the bard, or the oracular priest. If one could not write sweet poesy there, or divine the future of man, 'twould be vain for him to try elsewhere. Waked by a noisy little storm-cloud from the nice nap to which the coolness and pleasantness of the place invited us, we bestirred ourselves, and were, in a few moments, over the summit of the Ridge, and descending into a delightful country. Nor were we at any loss for company. On both sides of us were clusters of the sweetest flowers of the Ridge; and, ever and anon, a merry brooklet coming from the Black and spurs of the Ridge, would dash across our path in frolicsome glee. After a few hours' travel, we discovered ourselves rolling alongside of that nymph of beauty, the Swannanoa. Its waters are unusually clear and pure, and its grassy banks look as if they had been washed; and the walnuts, sycamores, water-birch, hollies, and sugar-maples, which hang over it, throw down a deep shade upon its green-colored waters. When you come within five or six miles of Asheville, on one side of you is this river, and, on the other, splendid residences and rich farms. No one can fail to admire that part of the Great State of Buncombe.”

Lanman, in his“Alleghany Mountains,” speaking of his trip over this Gap, says:“The other prospect that I witnessed, was from the summit of the Blue Ridge, looking in the direction of the Catawba. It was a wilderness of mountains, whose foundations could not be fathomed by the eye; while in the distance, towering above all the peaks, rose the singular and fantastic form of the Table Mountain. Not a sign of the breathing human world could be seen in any direction, and the only living creature which appeared to my view was a solitary eagle, wheeling to and fro, far up towards the zenith of the sky.”

From any point between Morganton and Asheville, fine views may be obtained. The road is upon a ridge throughout, except when in the valley of the Catawba, the loveliness and fertility of which is sufficiently alluring; but, should one desire a grander scene, less of delicate beauty, they need only glance down its length, at the rugged mountains which seem to rise immediately in its course, but at whose feet it sweeps on in majesty, as if disdaining the obstructions which they seem to be endeavoring to push in its way. A fine view of the Table Rock, and Hawk's Bill, is obtained from a point in the Pleasant Gardens, just before reaching the river. There, too, may be seen the long, slow descent of the Linville Mountain, which, after vain endeavors to make itself a dam upon the course of the Catawba, first becomes“short-off,” and then dwindles away to nothing. The traveller who delights in fine scenery, cannot fail to be pleased with this road; and if he keeps upon the look-out, will ever find something upon which the eye will rest with pleasure.

As the Swannanoa River is intimately associated with this route, we copy the following, which was written some years ago by a gentleman of Charleston, S. C.:—

THE route by way of the Hickory-Nut Gap, leaves the North Carolina Railroad at Charlotte, and proceeds through Lincolnton, Shelby, and Rutherfordton, across the mountains to Asheville. Leaving Charlotte, the traveller traverses a section of country noted for the fertility of its soil, and the generous hospitality of its inhabitants. The many handsome residences which line the road, give evidence of the taste of their owners. To all who are acquainted with North Carolina history, it is sufficient to say, that this region was the home of the Alexanders, the Brevards, and the Grahams of the Revolution, to make every foot of it classic ground. The road passes near several iron-works, some of which have been operated for many years. A ride of about thirty-five miles brings the traveller to Lincolnton, where, if he be in the stage, he will probably take supper. A night ride, through Cleveland County, lands him the next morning to breakfast at the pleasant little town of Rutherfordton, where he will most surely get that which will tempt and satisfy, his appetite. At Watkins's excellent hotel, near the town of Shelby, which is passed in the night, is situated one of the best sulphur springs in the world; but, owing to some cause, it is not fitted with such accommodations as it deserves. The Wilson Spring has no superior in the Union, as to the beauty of location or the curative powers of its waters. Nevertheless, we cannot, viewing it as it was during the last summer, advise any one to stay there.

Leaving Rutherfordton, the traveller begins to enter the mountains in reality. The road winds along the banks of Broad River, crossing it several times,—the river foaming and boiling over rocks and rapids all along the course. Occasional glimpses are caught of the distant mountains, and every little while the road winds along the edge of a frightful precipice; but, for the most part, the road is not intensely striking until after we leave Mr. Harris's. This gentleman lives about fifteen miles from Rutherfordton, just at what might be called the foot of the mountains; and the traveller, at his leisure, can find no better place to rest his weary limbs, or satiate an appetite acquired in the bracing mountain air. An excellent view of the mountains is obtained from this house. In fact, just here is the beginning of the grandest panorama of mountain scenery which is to be found easy of access anywhere in the West. The highest colorings of the imagination fail to picture a tithe of its sublimity, and the artist's pencil would need the tenfold power of a Titian, or a Raphael, to make the canvas glow with an atom of its magnificence, or give the beholder a faint impression of the awe it inspires.

The road, for eight miles, winds upon the banks of the Broad River, the contortions of whose troubled waters are beyond description. They curvet and lash around each rock, as if caressing it, then scornfully, seemingly with coquettish glee, dash on, singing a wild song, as if murmuring at the barriers which nature has put in its course. In the midst of this wild scene are the falls of Hickory-Nut Creek. This is a small stream, which rises on the top of the mountain, and, after a course of a mile or two, leaps over a precipice nine hundred and fifty feet in height. Its little tribute of waters is nearly all lost in spray, and but a small portion reaches the river. We know of no better description of these scenes than from some sketches which have been heretofore published. We first quote from Lanman's“Alleghany Mountains:”—

“My first expedition, on arriving at Asheville, was to a gorge in the Blue Ridge, called the Hickory-Nut Gap. How it came by that name I cannot imagine, since the forests in this particular region, so far as I could ascertain, are almost entirely destitute of the hickory tree. It is true that, for four miles, the gorge is watered by a brook called after the hickory-nut, but I take it that this name is a borrowed one. The entire length of the Gap is about nine miles, and the last five miles are watered by the Rocky Broad River. The upper part of this stream runs between the Blue Ridge proper and a spur of the Blue Ridge; and, at the point where it forces a passage through the spur, its bed-is exceedingly rocky; and, on either hand, until it reaches the middle country of the State, it is protected by a series of mountain bluffs. That portion of

THERE is another route by which all the beauties of the Swannanoa Gap may be viewed, and even still more lovely scenes added to them. We allude to the road via the valley of the Yadkin, Wilkesborough and Lenoir, to Morganton, there connecting with the Swannanoa Gap road. This route, therefore, may be said to be merely a tributary to that. As there is no public conveyance much of the way, it can only be viewed in one's own carriage. The proper beginning of this road would be at the town of Greensborough. The traveller can, however, as easily leave the railroad at High Point, as we propose, to start the journey at Salem. At that ancient town, then, the traveller takes up his line of march, having in view, as a point of destination, the town of Wilkesborough. On the right hand will occasionally be seen portions of the Saura Town range of mountains, and the grand peak of the Pilot, standing solitary and alone; now, as in olden time, a guide to the wanderer.

One great object of attraction upon this route is the number of fertile farms and beautiful private residences. The valley of the Yadkin is known far and wide for its loveliness, and the wealth and, hospitality of its inhabitants. One of the first of these upon our route, and by far not the least in the points for which we have said the valley is famed, is the residence of Nicholas Williams, Esq. Of it, the writer, from whom we quote, says:—

Approaching the house,“the scene before him reminded the writer of some of those splendid old baronial possessions in England, which have been so graphically described by Sir Walter Scott in his brilliant stories of the olden time. The forest of oak, pine, cedar, and chestnut, formed a complete circle, leaving an open space of about ten acres, in the midst of which is the mansion, a neat and antiquated-looking building, which was commenced before the Revolution, and finished after its close, almost entirely hid from view by wide-branched oaks, which ‘fling their gnarled arms over a thick carpet of the most delicious greensward.’ On your left, as you approach the mansion from the large gate of the outside inclosure, is a meadow of tall, waving grass; and, on your right, is a lovely flower-garden, with ‘shrubbery which Shenstone might have envied,’ environed by a beautiful juniper hedge. No one, who has ever read Milton's ‘Paradise Lost,’ can look upon this beautifully arranged garden without being reminded of the charming garden of Eden, which his strong imagination so richly bodied forth in that immortal poem.

“In the cool of the evening, the writer strolled out into the flower-garden, and, passing through it, fell into a walk which led him to the family grave-yard, a neat and sequestered spot, shaded by broad-headed and branching oaks. There he saw the graves of several of the Williams family, and, among them, two which peculiarly interested him. The one is the grave of Col. Joseph Williams, the father of our host, who distinguished himself as a brave officer in the Revolution, and was noted, at all times, for his activity, enterprise, patriotism, and devotion to correct and liberal principles; and the other, that of the Hon. Lewis Williams, as sterling a patriot, and as pure and wise a statesman as ever graced the halls of our national legislature. He entered public life in 1813, as member of the House of Commons, and was re-elected in 1814. In 1815 he was elected a member of Congress, and served continuously until 1842; a long career in one place proves the sincerity of his character and the confidence of his constituents. His life, compiled from his papers, would form a most valuable addition to our history. He was much respected in Congress for his sound judgment, inflexible integrity, and unwavering consistency, and received, by universal consent, the title of ‘The Father of the House.’ * * *

“None could desire a lovelier place than that for his long death-sleep. It is in sight of the old homestead, and lies between that handsome garden, where the kinsman and the stranger alike resort, and the noble Yadkin, whose silvery waters, rolling down from the blue hills of Carolina, make melody over the graves of the departed.”

The traveller crosses the Yadkin at what is called the Shallow Ford. Here he leaves the river, and enters upon the hill country proper; in fact, small spurs of mountains. All along the road, occasional glimpses are to be had of the Pilot Knob. The traveller at length reaches Wilkesborough. Wilkesborough is situated in an elevated place, and commands fine view of the mountains beyond.“It was built before the achievement of American Independence, and named in honor of a distinguished English statesman, John Wilkes. Nature has done more for it than the inhabitants. To the southwest lie the Brushy Mountains, the highest peak of which is called Poor's Knob.” On the other side the Yadkin pursues its turbulent course. Near this place is the farm whereon Daniel Boone once resided; and there are still to be heard in that region reminiscences of a pleasant nature concerning him.

From Wilkesborough the road turns southwest into Caldwell County, and passes through a section of that country said to be very appropriately named“The Happy Valley.” The writer we quote says of it:“The surrounding mountains, which rise only into beauty, and not into grandeur, form an almost mathematically perfect ellipsis. The length of the valley is about five miles, and the average width not far from three. Within it are five highly intelligent families, living on as many rich handsomely improved farms. Everything which can enrich and delight has been lavished here in bounteous profusion. Here are beautiful lowlands on each side of the river, and towards the encircling mountains, are gently sloping hillsides, from which persons can descry the Grandfather in Watauga, the Hawk's Bill and Table-Rock in Burke, and Mount Mitchell, the loftiest peak of the Black Mountains. Here are green meadows and wide grazing pastures. Here are oaks, cedars, pines, the spruce, the silver, the white, and the black walnuts, poplars, locusts, chestnuts, hollies, and the white and pink-blossomed laurels. Here are pure, gushing springs, and noisy, babbling rills, which dash down from the mountain-tops, as if in haste to bury themselves in the vasty deep. Here are refreshing fogs, which rise not from malaria, but from pure streams, bearing on their downy pinions the glittering dewdrops and the rose of health, and not disease and death. Here are bracing breezes, and cool nights, which strengthen man for the duties and toils of the long summer days. Here are fishes, sweet-singing birds, and deer; and here are groves not inferior to that of Daphne by Orentes. This is a sight well calculated to make one deeper in love with his native State; well calculated to make him abandon any notions which he may entertain of leaving here for a home in the South or Northwest. If you have not been through the western part of your State, you know little or nothing of the fertility, magnificence, and natural advantages, which are a few days' ride from you.”

In this valley is situated Fort Defiance, now merely a post-office, but once a stockade fort of some prominence. This whole section has been very long settled, and is, perhaps, filled with as intelligent a population as any portion of our State. Upon the site of the old fort is now a graveyard, in which lie the ashes of Gen. Wm. Lenoir, a man of distinction in his day. His old mansion, a relic of the days of '76, is now occupied by his son. A curiosity in this neighborhood is the Blowing Rock. It is a peculiarity, in nature, not uncommon in the mountains; which, owing to the situation of the mountain ridges, the sudden depth of the valley, and, perhaps, other unknown reasons, causes an unceasing stream of air to come pouring up over the rock, which, of itself, is merely a ragged precipice. From this point, one can branch off into Watauga, and enjoy the rough, but beautiful scenery of that wild, almost unknown county.

Leaving the“Happy Valley,” the traveller next halts in the pleasant little town of Lenoir, named in honor of Gen Wm. Lenoir. Nothing of great note will strike the eye in this place, unless it be the large building recently erected for a Female College; from the observatory of which a fine view is obtained. The tourist from whom we have quoted, speaking of his sojournings about Lenoir, says:—

“Five miles from Lenoir is Hibriten, as pretty a mountain as any that adorns the earth. From that place you have a fine view of it and other lofty mountains, and, especially, from the observatory of the College. Leaving there at ten o'clock, we reached the cool and gushing spring, which is nearly a quarter of a mile from the summit of Hibriten, about half-past eleven o' lock. At different points along the way up, we had magnificent views of the surrounding country. Though the road, then, extended no farther than the spring; yet, by this time it is finished to the top. Near that cool fount we hitched our horses, and refreshed ourselves with its delicious waters before we commenced the ascent to the top. Much money has been expended by the citizens there, to make that mountain a place inviting to all. And truly it is inviting and delightful. By the time one reaches the spring, he is sufficiently wearied to make him quaff its water as if it were nectar, and the soft and balmy air that stirs in that high place! no pen can describe it; it is sweeter than air which has swept across beds of roses. Close to the spring, and in full view of one coming up to it, there is a large board upon a tree, which reveals to the stranger that he can rest himself under the dark, deep shade of cedars, when he has attained the summit.

“So pleased were we with the thought of reclining under the shade of those cedars, and with that happy parody on George P. Morris's sweet song, ‘Woodman, Spare that Tree,’ that thoughts of malicious mischief never entered our minds. Nor were we content to tarry longer there. After a short walk, up a very steep ascent, we found ourselves on the highest point of the summit, an elevation of at least 2200 feet above the level of the sea. Nor were we ever before so much “‘Amazed,—confounded,—blinded with the blazeOf concentrated beauty.’

“Every shade and hue and figure of beauty imaginable seemed to be presented to our eyes, in the splendid circle of mountains which lay around us. The bushes and smaller growth on the top have been cut out, leaving the larger and prettier trees, and the ground looks as clean as if it had been swept. On the side of the summit next to Lenoir are those comely and excellent cedars, which strangers have been so handsomely entreated not to break or harm. They remind the visitor of those lovely cedars of Lebanon, of which he has read in the Songs of Solomon. And beneath us, and all around, were beautiful and highly cultivated farms; and then set in small mountains, which are dotted here and there with fields of oats, and wheat, and corn; and there are others still in the rear of these, which rise gradually, in amphitheatre style, into lofty and grand mountains.”

This mountain can easily be visited in an afternoon ride from Lenoir. We should suppose that, considering its position, a sunset view from its top would be very fine. There is a good hotel in the town of Lenoir, at which travellers can stop. It is a pleasant little place, and has many agreeable inhabitants. The road from Lenoir to Morganton passes over a comparatively uninteresting country, though the mountain view becomes better as you approach Morganton. As we said before, but little or none of this route can be travelled in a public conveyance; therefore, the tourist must take his own carriage and horses, which is, perhaps, the most agreeable way of travelling through the mountains. Having now brought the reader to Morganton, we shall land him at the Walton House, where he may rest assured his wants will be well attended to, and tell what, as the morning dawns, he may there find to interest him.

[What the cost of this route would be, we are not able to say; it would depend much upon the time spent upon the road. The greatest expense would be stopping in the towns. Country stopping-places are very liberal in their charges. In fact, I would advise all persons who wish to travel economically to avoid the towns.]

WE have heretofore spoken of Asheville, and the beauties of its immediate surroundings; but, as it is the point which commands more of the attention of the Western tourist than perhaps any other, it may not be amiss to notice its vicinity more fully. Besides, too, there are in its vicinage points which are of great attraction and value to the West.

Five miles west of Asheville are to be found the Deaver White Sulphur Springs. Buildings, amply sufficient to accommodate a large number of persons, are here; and the author has assurances that, during the next summer, the establishment will be kept in a style which a place of its value deserves. The waters of these Springs are of a valuable medicinal nature. There are two springs,—one, said to be blue sulphur, is not used; the other, white sulphur, has a high reputation. It is said to be equally efficacious with any of the Virginia Springs. We have at hand no correct analysis of the water. It partakes, however, in chief of sulphur, and a slight particle of iron, and, perhaps, a little magnesia. It is very cold and pleasant to the taste. It is said to have no superior in cases of dyspepsia, and it certainly gives one a most excellent appetite. The water is in such quantity that it can be carried to the house for bathing when desired. There is, not far off, a chalybeate spring.

The position of these Springs make them a delightful summer resort. There is always a pleasant, cool breeze stirring; and the thermometer stands about three degrees lower than in Asheville. The view, from almost any point of the grounds, is fine,—presenting, in front, the Blue Ridge and its spurs; in the west, Mount Pisgah, and the Haywood Mountains. From a little mount, called after the editor of the Charleston Courier—Mount Yeadon—a very fine view is to be had. From its summit, the town of Asheville, distant about seven miles, is to be seen. The view of the valley of Hommony Creek is extremely good, and enables one to form at a glance a correct idea of the supassing fertility of that region. It is about two and a half miles from the Springs, to the top of this little mountain. The traveller who visits Asheville will most certainly go to the Sulphur Springs; and, when there, a jaunt to Mount Yeadon is indispensable to the fall appreciation of the attractions of that section.

About twenty miles from Asheville, fifteen from the Sulphur Springs, is Mount Pisgah, a mountain of considerable height, but has not yet been much visited. The summit of this mountain is differently constructed from any surrounding it. Beyond it is a large valley, perfectly locked in by high mountains, except where a small stream finds its way out. This valley is a famous range for stock, and is called the Pink Beds. Besides its peculiar construction—somewhat resembling an oblong tray, which alone should make it a place of interest—has an attraction still more inviting to some in the quantity of game found in its limits. Parties often leave Asheville and the Springs to spend a few days at this place. The little stream which flows through it, is said to be one of the best for mountain trout anywhere to be found. It is common for parties to catch five or six hundred. A pleasant and interesting trip for the tourist, sojourning at the Sulphur Springs, would be to this mountain and valley.

There is, about nine miles north of Asheville, a place which, though not yet in a condition to receive boarding visitors, nevertheless presents a prospect of being in the future a place of great resort, as it is now a remarkable curiosity and of great value. We allude to a number of newly discovered springs, which have been called by some the Million Springs. This name is derived from the large number of springs which flow out of the ground in the space of about an acre. They are beautifully situated in a cove between two ranges of mountains. As this place affords no permanent accommodations for visitors, it does not now command much of our attention. Many from Asheville ride out and spend the day, returning to that place at night. A beautiful horseback-ride is from Asheville to the Springs, thence to the top of the Bull Mount, through the stock-farm of Messrs. Woodfin, and on the mountain range back to Asheville. Many fine views of the valleys around are obtained in this way. The water at these Springs has never been fully analyzed, but they are known to be chiefly sulphur and chalybeate.

A fine chalybeate spring is found in a ride of about two miles on the east of Asheville, in what is called Chunor's Cove.

There are many fine drives about Asheville, but that up the Swannanoa is, perhaps, the best. It is much resorted to in the cool evenings of summer. Another route, called the Beaver Dam Road, passes by some fine farms, and is a good road. Three or four miles down the French Broad is not an unpleasant ride, while it gives one a slight foretaste of the beauties beyond.

Now we shall speak of what may be called the greatest curiosity of the West,—the range called the Black Mountains. This range is peculiarly so called because of the dense growth of the balsam tree, with which it is covered, which gives it, when viewed in the distance, a black appearance. The fact, that these mountains have long been thought*

*The author has, not long since, seen it stated, that Professor Buckley, of New York, and Professor Lecompte, of South Carolina, accompanied by Hon. T. L. Clingman, measured a peak of the Smoky Mountains, in Jackson County, and found it higher, by twenty-six feet, than the Pinnacle of the Black. It is in a wild, almost undiscovered country though.