Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 June 1877 — A Traveler’s Gossip. [ARTICLE]

A Traveler’s Gossip.

Washington, D. C., June 8, 1877. —lnterest, wonder and awe are the emotions that kindle in the breast of a susceptible person who boards the cars of an eastern bound tram at Grafton, West Virginia, on a bright morning of tho fragrant month of June. The railroad itself is an object of wonder and of intense interest even to him who is familiar with kindred stupendous productions of inventive genius. Two continuous tracks lay side by side, from tidewater to the Ohio river. Trains going in opposite directions never switch off upon a side track to permit the other to pass, nor do they slacken speed when about to meet or in the act of passing; each has his own unobstructed track, and each pursues his rapid course without interruption or the exchange ot civilities. Those monstrous giants are too much occupied with the labor they have in Charge even to salute old acquaintances with so much as a whistle of recognition, but keep to the l ight as the law directs and thunder along their iron paths with a speed that is faster than the gale. Up, up, up a winding stairway scampers the train; for liis track is laid along the sinuous windings of a rock-paved creek whose clear waters are the waste of a hundred fountains which well in the perpetual shade of sombre hemlocks and hoary rocks. So crooked is the railroad that our train of two engines and seven coaches were often joined in a semi-circle around the brink of dark precipices whose depth was greater than the hight of forest trees that bore the weather scars of centuries, and again the figure that the train represented olosely resembled a huge letter S of gothic design. Up, up, up we swiftly sped through narrow gorges, around thort curves, clinging close to the mountain side, until, leaving the brook and its bubble out bf sight and hearing, the panorama of peak and wood and gorge and mountains beyond was picturesque and grand. Walls ol solid rock rise on either side, shutting from view the glorious landscape beyond, and soon we plunge into darkness like that which covered the face of the deep when the earth was without form. It wis a darkness as dense as that which fell upon the land of Egypt, for it cquld be felt, and the organs of sight and feeling were not alcne made cognizant of its presence, for it could be smelt as well. A tunnel had been entered and the train was struggling through a cloud of the darkest coal smoke that ever issued from the stack of a groaning engine. So deep was ihe darkness and so thick the cloud ot smoke that the lights in tho lamps that had been lighted before entering the tunnel’s mouth but feebly glowed with a blood tinted flame. The temperature of the air was sensibly diminished, recalling to one the sensations felt upon entering a deep cellar or traveling in a cave; the. person shrinks and instinctively reaches for an additional wrap. Emerging into the light of day our train is upon Cranberry Summit and her human freight is permitted to step out of the dirty cars where they are penned and inhale a breath or two of bracing mountain air, redolent with the odor of firs and bursting flowers. Huge masses of rocks, gray with age aud litchens, lie piled promiscuously over the ground in every direction as far as can be seen. From every considerable crevice springs a tree, and the smaller ones lovingly embrace shrubs and ferns and healthy flowers. It is a landscape never to be forgotten by those who delight to commune with Nature and study the effect of her singular combinations. Here the delicate petals ot a flower rests against the rough harsh outlines of a mighty boulder; there the tendrils of a loving Vine twine their ringlets of beauty about the limbs of a lightning blasted tree, supplying the tresse6 of healthy youth to the bald hoadof age and disease; again the eye looks upon a vast eauvass of mountain range and sky, the former all broken into fantastic shapes and rendered Burprisingly beautiful by the wondrous effect of light and shadow and the

harmonious blending of the grays and innumerable tints of green, the latter gracefully poising to kiss the brows of this modest, unpretentious, but regal beauty. Wood and rock and sky-—green and gray and blue—are the objects and the colors made uso of by the Great Artist, the Inimitable Painter, in the production of a picture so grand and perfect. Mountain scenery is never monotonous. Tho eye is never wearied by beholding it. The mind never tires in its contemplation. Once seen the impression is photographed upon the memory there to remain forever, and whenever recollection turns the leaves of the emerald album she lingers fondly at the page where the pic-

ture is framed.

H. E. J.