The same author continues: "A man is not only like what he sees, but he is what he sees. The noble old Highlander has mountains in his soul, whose towering peaks point heavenward; and lakes in his bosom, whose glassy surfaces reflect the skies; and foaming cataracts in his heart to beautify the mountain side and irrigate the vale; and evergreen firs and mountain pines that show life and verdure even under winter skies!"
"On the other hand," he writes, "the wandering nomad has a desert in his heart; its dead level reflects heat and hate; a sullen, barren plain,—no goodness, no beauty, no dancing wave of joy, no gushing rivulet of love, no verdant hope. And it is an interesting fact that those who live in countries where natural scenery inspires the soul, and where the necessities of life bind to a permanent home, are always patriotic and high-minded; and those who dwell in the desert are always pusillanimous and groveling!"
If what this author writes be true, and the character of the Piedmont Virginians accords with the scenery around them, how their hearts must be filled with gentleness and charity inspired by the landscape which stretches far and fades in softness against the sky! How must their minds be filled with noble aspirations suggested by the everlasting mountains! How their souls must be filled with thoughts of heaven as they look upon the glorious sunsets bathing the mountains in rose-colored light, with the towering peaks ever pointing heavenward and seeming to say: "Behold the glory of a world beyond!"[14]
Beneath the shadow of the "Peaks" were many happy homes and true hearts, and, among these, memory recalls none more vividly than Otterburn and its inmates.
Otterburn was the residence of a gentleman and his wife who, having no children, devoted themselves to making their home attractive to visitors, in which they succeeded so well that they were rarely without company, for all who went once to see them went again and again.
This gentleman, Benjamin Donald, was a man of high character,—his accomplishments, manner and appearance marking him "rare,"—"one in a century." Above his fellow-men in greatness of soul, he could comprehend nothing mean. His stature was tall and erect; his features bold; his countenance open and impressive; his mind vigorous and cultivated; his bearing dignified, but not haughty; his manners simple and attractive; his conversation so agreeable and enlivening that the dullest company became animated as soon as he came into the room. Truth and lofty character were so unmistakably stamped upon him that a day's acquaintance convinced one he could be trusted forever. Brought up in Scotland, the home of his ancestors, in him were blended the best points of Scotch and Virginia character,—strict integrity and whole-souled generosity and hospitality.
How many days and nights we passed at his house, and in childhood and youth how many hours were we entertained by his bright and instructive conversation! Especially delightful was it to hear his stories of Scotland, which brought vividly before us pictures of its lakes and mountains and castles. How often did we listen to his account of the wedding-tour to Scotland, when he carried his Virginia bride to the old home at Greenock! And how often we laughed about the Scotch children, his nieces and nephews, who, on first seeing his wife, clapped their hands and shouted: "Oh, mother! are you not glad uncle did not marry a black woman?" Hearing he was to marry a Virginian, they expected to see a savage Indian or negro! And some of the family who went to Liverpool to meet them, and were looking through spy-glasses when the vessel arrived, said they were "sure the Virginia lady had not come, because they saw no one among the passengers dressed in a red shawl and gaudy bonnet like an Indian"!
From this we thought that Europeans must be very ignorant of our country and its inhabitants, and we have since learned that their children are purposely kept ignorant of facts in regard to America and its people.
Among many other recollections of this dear old friend of Otterburn I shall never forget a dream he told us one night, which so impressed us that, before his death, we asked him to write it out, which he did; and, as the copy is before me in his own handwriting, I will insert it here:
"About the time I became of age I returned to Virginia for the purpose of looking after and settling my father's estate. Three years thereafter I received a letter from my only sister, informing me that she was going to be married, and pressing me in the most urgent manner to return to Scotland to be present at her marriage, and to attend to the drawing of the marriage contract. The letter gave me a good deal of trouble, as it did not suit me to leave Virginia at that time. I went to bed one night, thinking much on this subject, but soon fell asleep, and dreamed that I landed in Greenock in the night-time, and pushed for home, thinking I would take my aunt and sister by surprise.