THE SPARKLING CATAWBA SPRINGS.
IN THE SADDLE.
And the steed it shall be shod
All in silver, housed in azure,
And the mane shall swim the wind;
And the hoofs along the sod
Shall flash onward and keep measure
Till the shepherds look behind.
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
HERE is something in a long ride on horseback that time cannot obliterate. At its recollection one feels again the motion of the horse, and can well imagine the bridle-reins in his fingers. With these sensations come the cool breath of morning, the smooth stretches of road through sunlight and shadow, the rough trail by wild, rushing waters, the vistas of rich meadows and fields, and the green and purple outlines of mountains. Such scenes become so impressed upon the memory that one might well question with Byron:
“Are not the mountains, waves, and skies a part
Of me and of my soul, as I of them?”
This sketch is of a ride taken by the writer, through some of the most scenic sections of the mountains. Treating, as it does, of the country and people as they are, the tourist in quest for information, preparatory to a trip through the same region, need look no further than these pages.