PASSAGE OF THE JAMES RIVER THROUGH THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS.—The very name of Blue Ridge is music in the ears of many thousands of good and worthy citizens of our country, whose ancestral homes were, or still are, in the midst or within view of the hazy-blue summits of these historic mountains. Any one who has seen them at a distance, in the soft light of an Indian summer, will appreciate the aptitude of the title, and the affection which must be engendered by association with such delightful scenery from childhood to the evening of life. The view presented in the photograph on this page is an exceptionally fine one, showing the mountains on either side and in the distance through the rift made by the river.
A SCENE OF RURAL LIFE IN NORTH CAROLINA.
In some of the towns there is a lazy air that barely stirs the little wind-mills on the marten-boxes, and indolence and shiftlessness have their votaries even here. Up in the mountains there are shadows of hard times, which are projected into the valleys and villages in the form of bull-teams and crotchety “mover-wagons.” The driver has a sang-froid appearance, and as if he was ahead of his expectations, and is willing to wait for tardy time to catch up. His team is glad to encourage the waiting ambition, and lies down in the street to keep him patient company.
To exhibit the diversity of scenes in East Tennessee and the resourceful expedients of the people, photograph was made of another mountaineer’s team, wherein the traction energy of a bull is compared with that of a horse, to the humiliation, no doubt, of the latter. In order to throw a little more animation into the scene, our photographer grouped a party of natives about the team, so that two purposes might be served with one stone, and no mistake might be made as to types of the people and their conveyances.
On a trip to the north boundary of the State several lovely landscape pictures were secured, one of the most exquisite being a view in the vicinity of Galbraith Springs, where the headwaters of Tennessee River pour through Short Mountains, which are the outposts of Cumberland Range, and go careening and pirouetting in many cascades between that point and Knoxville. The scenery hereabout presents the majesty of imperious isolation, the lonely grandeur of undisputed lordliness; and under the shadows which these towering mountains cast, are people that live in a little world of their own, almost forgetful that the earth projects beyond the horizon of their vision. But in this valley of delight the flowers run riot over the hills, the woods and fields are musical with songs of many birds, and there are the sweets of peace and the bloom of plenty beneath these opalescent skies.
