It was raining when we departed, and continued to rain all night, as we weltered through the mud. Next morning, although a shower yet fell, I became so weary of the close confinement of the stage, that I alighted at the foot of Laurel Hill, and, putting stoutly forth, pushed on ahead of the heavy vehicle. The road winds about the steep side of the mountain, and from several points affords grand views of the forest, valleys, and humbler hills below. The early shrubs were already putting forth abundant leaf and blossom, for the winter had been singularly mild, and the quiet air was impregnated with sweetness.
When very near the top of the mountain,—for the ascent is full four miles,—I encountered one of those groups which appear in constant progress along the great Western line. The extent, however, of the present caravan made it peculiarly interesting. It consisted of five long, well-covered waggons, each drawn by eight or six horses, was attended by three or four led nags, and a number of dogs of various denominations. The occupants of the waggons were women and children: the faces of the chubby rogues were all crowded in front to look upon the passing stranger, with here and there a shining ebony phiz thrust between; the chief freight appeared to consist of household furniture and agricultural implements.
By the side of these waggons first rode four or five horsemen, well mounted, who might be the principals of the party, for they were men past the meridian of life; straggling in the rear, or scattered along the edges of the forest, walked eight or nine younger men, rough-and-ready-looking fellows, each with his rifle in his hand. Wild pigeons abounded along the cover-edge, and the sharp crack which every now and then rang through the thin air of morning told that the hunters were dealing upon them.
From the construction of the waggons, as well as because their owners evinced no inclination either to hold communion or exchange civilities with a passing wayfarer, which no Southern ever fails to do, I concluded this to be a party of New England men, who, abandoning their worn-out native fields, were pushing on for the "far West" with the lightness of heart consequent on the surety of reaping a brave harvest from a soil which withholds abundance from none who possess hearts and arms to task it.
With what apparent indifference, if not positive pleasure, do the people of this country quit their ancient homes, and wander forth in search of new ones, to be again, in turn, deserted, if not by themselves, by their restless and enterprising children! The Tartar habit of movement and frequent change, which is, I fancy, natural to man, finds in no country at the present age such inviting facilities as are offered in this, nor could a people be found who more fully enjoy them.
I looked upon this well-ordered, sober party with much pleasure; and as I stood upon the mountain top, and thence watched their downward track, I found my mind actively employed picturing their after progress and accompanying the line of their long travel. First, came their repose and rest, as in their plentifully-furnished flat they slowly drifted down the smooth course of the near Ohio; then, their after-journeying through the wilderness in search of a pleasant spot on which to rear their huts and make to themselves a home; now followed their early and long-enduring toil, accompanied perhaps by the sickness of their children and the pining of their women, whose sensibilities, more acute than those of men, ever revert in seasons of sadness to the far-off places their young days made pleasant; and, lastly, when, after years had passed away, and that their well-fenced fields were teeming with a plenteous harvest, I beheld their sons gathering together their inheritance and setting forth in search of another new country, within which they might resume the toil of their fathers. Man may change the scene of his labour, but the evil of his condition is not to be evaded; and alike, from the most fertile as from the most barren soil, by the sweat of his brow must his bread be won.
I here waited, sheltered by a rocky projection, until the stage came up. The continuance of the rain effectually prevented me from indulging in any more walks this day; the tedium of the journey however, whilst light lasted, was greatly relieved by the constant changes of mountain scenery, as viewed through an atmosphere now wildly clear and again thick and gloomy.
I found considerable amusement also in calculating the fair odds against our being pitched into some one of the many deep ravines along whose edge we were, when going down hill, whirled with startling speed. It was at these descents that the driver sought to pull up his lost time; and this he did with a recklessness of consequences that led me, after mature consideration, aided by the experience of much rough travel, to come to the following conclusion,—that, in crossing the Alleghany mountains, when the roads are rotten and slippery, the chances for and against a broken neck are so nearly equal that no sporting man, of any liberality, need desire to seek odds, should he feel inclined to make a bet before commencing the journey.
We at times encountered a string of waggons at some narrow sharp turn of the corkscrew path, and were whirled by them, with our off-wheels curiously circling the unguarded ledge of a precipice some four or five hundred feet deep, where a wheel-horse suddenly jibbing, or a leader shying or falling, would, in all human probability, have provided the wolves and bears with a banquet, and the journalists with a neat paragraph, headed, "Melancholy result of fast driving, attended with serious loss of valuable lives."
The practice is for the team to be put on a run the moment they gain the summit of a hill; and, if all things hold out, this is kept up until the bottom be reached: the horses are excellent, and rarely fail. On my asking the coachman,—by whom I rode as much as possible,—what he did in the event of a wheel-horse coming down in a steep pass, he replied, "Why, I keep driving ahead, and drag him along;"—an accident which he assured me had occurred more than once to himself when the roads were encrusted with ice and snow: the passengers at such times are placed in sleighs, which are perhaps less dangerous.