"In other words," said he, "whether the evil be so irremediable that hope cannot enter the heart; that the ravishing beauty of nature cannot excite benevolence, devotion, and love."
"That was not entirely my case," said she, "for I am grateful for having felt some pleasing excitement at the time, and for being able now to call up many pleasurable remembrances, clouded as they are for the most part with sadness."
"If I have been rightly informed, you did not visit all the other springs around the White Sulphur."
"My health would not permit of our making the entire fashionable round."
"Oh, then you have missed much pleasure," said he. "There are the Sweet Springs, rising out of the earth like a boiling caldron, with brilliant little balloons of gas ever ascending to the top of the water, and bursting in the sunbeams. There is not perhaps in the world such another natural fountain of soda-water. And there is the Salt Sulphur, with its high romantic hills covered with herds, and its beautiful meadows, and its long village of neat white cottages, and its splendid assembly-rooms, and its sumptuous banquets of wild game and artificial luxuries. But, above all, there is the Warm Spring, with its clear blue crystal baths, large enough for a troop of horse to swim in; there, likewise, is an extensive green lawn, flanked on the one side by the same kind of neat white cottages, and on the other by the line of blue mountains, rising abruptly from the plain within gun-shot of the baths. On a clear moonlight night, one may see the invalids sitting out on the green in front of their doors, enjoying the placid scenery of the valley, and the profound and solemn monotony of the overhanging mountains,—sometimes, indeed, interrupted by the bustle of a new arrival, the neighing of horses, the crash of the wheels, the hoarse voices of the coachmen as they exchange advice upon the descent into the valley, or by the meeting of old friends and fellow-invalids, perhaps acquaintances of a former season, and fellow-sufferers with the gout, bantering each other upon their speed."
"From what little I saw of them, I think they perfectly justify the southern enthusiasm which we found everywhere on the subject; and I should think that there is no finer opportunity of seeing southern fashionable society."
"True; our wealthiest and most fashionable people resort thither every season. Yet I cannot say in truth, from what I have observed myself, that our aristocracy are seen there to the best advantage. They are too much in their holyday suit of manners,—too artificial,—too unnatural. I have seen people who were agreeable at home, become affected and disagreeable at watering-places. I have also seen some who were reserved at home, become quite affable there. The latter effect, however, was by no means so common as the former."
"I did not see much affectation, or many unnatural people at the White Sulphur," said the lady.
"I cannot say that it is one of the besetting sins of the southern fashionables; all I meant to say was, that they show more of it there than at home."
"For my own part, I was delighted with the generous, free, and open-hearted manner in which I was treated by the few female acquaintances I made; and I am almost ashamed to acknowledge that they were far more intelligent and accomplished than my prejudices had taught me to expect."