[A LEGEND OF LOVER'S LEAP, COLUMBUS, GEORGIA.]
One mile above the city of Columbus, Georgia, the Chattahoochee's turbid waters dash, fret and foam in angry surges over and among a group of giant bowlders forming what was called by the Red Men of the forest, "Tumbling Falls."
From the eastern bank of the river rises a rugged, perpendicular cliff to a lofty height, which is covered almost to its verge by majestic trees, vines and shrubs of a semi-tropical growth. This is crowned by a colossal bowlder of dark granite, and from its summit is one of the most magnificent and picturesque views of river scenery that nature has produced.
This is "Lover's Leap," famous in song and story; where the "Young Eagle" of the Cowetas clasped to his brave heart the bright "Morning Star" of the Cussetas and leaped into the deep, restless waters below.
The Alabama hills, forming a long, undulating chain, and covered with verdant beauty, arise across the river, which, below the precipice, flows gently onward until it reaches the city limits, where the waters again dash with insane fury over clustering bowlders and form the Coweta Falls, which are there arrested and utilized by the palefaced stranger to turn thousands of looms and spindles for his own use and profit.
A short distance below the Leap is the "Silver Wampum," a lovely stream of pellucid water, which rises beneath a clump of sweet-scented bays and magnolias, and flows and quivers in sunlight and moonlight, like a silver girdle, along its green and flowerdecked banks, until it reaches a rocky bed, where it falls by a succession of cascades, which form an exquisite fringe to the "Wampum" before dropping into the Chattahoochee.
There the beautiful "Morning Star" would often sit indulging in love dreams, as she beaded the gay moccasins, bags and wampums, while the "Young Eagle" followed the chase. There he would bring her the first fruits and flowers of the season.
From some warmer climate unknown to his rivals he would often procure boughs of the fragrant calycanthus, queenly magnolias and sweet-smelling jasmines, and secretly adorn this sylvan retreat in anticipation of her coming, long before the native buds began to expand their beauty. Frequently she would be startled in her blissful reveries by the rolled petal of a magnolia falling like a great snow-flake at her feet.