ABOVE THE CLOUDS ON MITCHELL’S PEAK, NEAR ASHEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA.
“High mountains bound this vale on north and south, while directly in front of us, like companion sentinels guarding the western gateway, down which the sun was to march, stands Round Top and Chimney Rock Mountains. Behind Chimney Rock, trending toward the west, arise in close succession a number of mountains with distinct, broken summits—a long palisade fencing the gap in whose depth rushes the Broad River. In the center of the west stands Bear Wallow Mountain, the last visible knob of Hickory-Nut Gap.
“The sun was sinking behind the white cumuli that capped this mountain. Streamers of golden light, like the spokes of a celestial chariot, whose hub was the hidden sun, barred the western sky. The clouds shone with edges of beaten gold. Their centers, with every minute, changed to all hues imaginable. The fronts of the Sentinel Mountains were somber in the shadows, while the gap was radiant with the light pouring through it, and every pine on the top of the palisade stood black against the glowing sky.” The “Old Man’s Face” is another wonderful natural curiosity which divides interest with the finest scenery in this remarkable region, and is on the west side of Bald Mountain, in prominent view, for the rocks are barren and garish from the light of the sun. This singular formation is a faithful representation of a three-quarter view of an old man’s face, with forehead, eyes, nose, mouth and beard in such perfect proportion that one can hardly believe, without close examination, the face is only an accidental result of the elements, in their unceasing work of denudation.
Eighteen miles from Asheville, in the Balsam Range, is Mount Pisgah, 5,757 feet high, from the apex of which a wonderful expanse of mountain scenery is spread out to view; but it is from the Blue Ridge peaks that the sublimest visions are presented, and the most curious forms of nature-sculpturing occur. Passing southwest from Asheville, the Asheville and Spartanburg Road runs through an exceedingly fertile region, and thence into the Cañon of Little River, where for four miles the stream is a succession of surging rapids, noisy cascades, and picturesque waterfalls, until it approaches the base of tremendous cliffs. These are spurs of the Blue Ridge, one of which is famous as presenting a facial profile which has been named “Cæsar’s Head,” but it takes a person of vivid imagination to distinguish the human features, very plain though the guide declares them to be. As the altitude is nearly 6,000 feet, and 2,000 feet above the valley, the prospect of the peak of this Blue Ridge spur is incomparably magnificent.
LITTLE RIVER RAPIDS, NORTH CAROLINA.—At this point the river flashes over a sloping ledge of rocks and boulders with irresistible power and a roar like that of thunder. At all seasons of the year the scene is splendid and inspiring, but when the river is swollen with the spring floods and the waters come with a mighty and irresistible flood, dashing over the rocks and carrying away trees and boulders with titanic force and rage, the view is awe-inspiring and grand beyond the power of human pen to describe.
