causing him to sit down very suddenly. Instead, however, of his remaining quietly thus at rest, the merciless action of the force of gravity, conspiring with the inclination of the ground, caused him to slide rapidly for a couple of hundred yards down the mountain-side. When finally he did bring up in a bank of snow, he was decidedly of opinion that this mountain was the coldest one he had ever seen. In fact, when afterwards questioned if he was not very cold, he said: "Yes, as cold as Cicero in his coldest moment!" He had doubtless heard some local orator pronounced "as eloquent as Cicero," and thus concluded that the old Roman was a man of superlatives generally. Since that day the peak has rejoiced in the name of Cold Mountain.

The twin-ridge, which, leaving the Balsam near the same locality, gradually diverges to the east, terminates in the beautiful peak Mount Pisgah, of which a view is given. Its top, five thousand seven hundred and fifty-seven feet above the sea, is a triangular shaped pyramid. Standing alone as it does, it affords a magnificent view for a hundred miles around. It forms the corner of the four counties of Buncombe, Henderson, Transylvania, and Haywood.

The view presented is from the valley of Homony creek, at a point a little to the east of north from the mountain. From whatever direction it is seen, its outline is not less pointed than it is in this picture, and is always a striking object before the eye of the spectator. Though one must travel twenty-two miles from Asheville to reach its summit, its distance in a direct line is under fifteen. Its beautiful blue on a summer evening is sometimes changed into a rich purple by the rays of a red cloud thrown over it at sunset. In winter it is even a still more striking object. Covered by a fresh snow in the morning, its various ridges present their outlines so sharply, that it seems as if they had been carved by a chisel into innumerable depressions and elevations. After one or two day's sunshine, the snow disappears on the ridges, but remains in the valleys. The mountain then seems covered from summit to base with alternate bands of virgin white, and a blue more intense and beautiful than the immortal sky itself presents.

While there are many views to be seen from Asheville and its vicinity that from McDowell's Hill, two miles south, is the best. When there, one sees in the west Pisgah, the Cold Mountain, and some of the highest peaks of the Balsam, with many intervening ranges; while to the northeast rises the great mass of Craggy, with its numerous spurs crowned by its pyramid and dome, and the southern point of the Black in the distance. The beautiful Swannanoa makes a handsome curve as it passes through the green carpet two hundred feet below, to unite with the French Broad, which seems to come afar from the base of Pisgah. One who has not been there, has yet to see the finest scene in North Carolina, probably not equaled by any east of the Mississippi.

MOUNTAIN SCENERY.

Extract from a letter written in 1855, to Professor Joseph Henry, of the Smithsonian Institution.

From the head of the Swannanoa, at Mr. Stepps', where an angler can find speckled trout, there is an easy way to the Mountain House, built by William Patton, of Charleston, South Carolina. Its present occupant will provide one with pleasant lodgings, and, what mountain journeys render so welcome, all such comforts "for the inner man," as this region affords, with fresh salmon from Scotland, and champagne from France, to make them go down easily. After resting here awhile, at the height of five thousand four hundred and sixty (5,460) feet above the sea-level, two miles of travel on horseback, as hundreds of ladies can testify, will bring him to the top of Mount Mitchell.

When one is upon this peak, he appears to be on a centre, from which there run off five immense mountain chains. To the northward stretches the main ledge of the Black, with a succession of cones and spires along its dark crest. On its right, from the far northeast, from the Keystone State, across the entire breadth of Virginia, seemingly from an immeasurable distance, comes the long line of the Blue Ridge or Alleghany; but when it passes almost under him, it is comparatively so much depressed as scarcely to be perceptible, save where at the point of junction, stimulated by the presence of its gigantic neighbor, it shoots up into a pinnacle so steep, that, to use a hunter's phrase, it would "make a buzard's head swim, if he were to attempt to fly over it." Thence it runs southerly, till it touches South Carolina, when it trends to the west, and is soon hidden behind collossal masses that obstruct further vision in that direction. As the chain of the Black sweeps around westwardly, it is soon parted into two immense branches, which run off in opposite courses. The northern terminates in a majestic pile, with a crown-like summit, and numerous spurs from its base; while to the south there leads off the long ridge of Craggy, with its myriads of gorgeous flowers, its naked slopes and fantastic peaks, over which dominates its great dome, challenging in its altitude ambitious comparison with the Black

itself.

Let the observer then lift his eye to a remote distance, and take a circuit in the opposite direction. Looking to the southeast and to the east, he sees beyond King's Mountain, and others less known to fame, the plain of the two Carolinas stretched out over an illimitable space, in color and outline indistinguishable from the "azure brow" of the calm

Nearer to him, to the northeast, over the Linville Mountain, stands squarely upright the Table Rock, with its perpendicular faces; and its twin brother, the "Hawk-bill," with its curved beak of overhanging rock, and neck inclined, as if in act to stoop down on the plain below. Further on, there rises in solitary grandeur the rocky throne of the abrupt and wild Grandfather. This "ancient of days" was long deemed the "monarch of mountains," but now, like other royal exiles, he only

retains a shadow of his former authority in a patriarchal name, given because of the grey beard he shows when a frozen cloud has iced his rhododendrons. Westward of him stands a victorious rival, the gently undulating prairie of the Roan, stretching out for many a mile in length, until its green and flowery carpet is terminated by a castellated cragthe Bluff.

From this extends southerly the long but broken line of the Unaka, through the passes of which, far away over the entire valley of East Tennessee, is seen in the distance the blue outline of the Cumberland Mountains, as they penetrate the State of the "dark and bloody ground." In contrast with the bold aspect and rugged chasms of the Unaka, stands the stately figure of the Bald Mountain, its smoothlyshaven and regularly rounded top bringing to mind some classic cupola; for when the sunlight sleeps upon its convex head, it seems a temple more worthy of all the gods than that Pantheon, its famed Roman rival. As the eye again sweeps onward, it is arrested by the massive pile of the great Smoky Mountain, darkened by its fir trees, and often by the cloudy drapery it wears. From thence there stretches quite through Haywood and Henderson to South Carolina's border, the long range of the Balsam Mountain, its pointed steeples over-topping the Cold Mountain and Pisgah, and attaining probably their greatest elevation towards the head of the French Broad river.

Besides these, the eye rests on many a "ripe green valley," with its winding streams, and on many a nameless peak, like pyramid or tower, and many a waving ridge, imitating in its curling shapes the billows of the ocean when most lashed by the tempest. And if one is favored by Jove, he may perchance hear the sharp, shrill scream of his "cloud-cleaving minister," and, as he sweeps by with that bright eye which "pierces downward, onward or above, with a pervading vision," or encircles him in wide curves, shows reflected back from the golden brown of his long wings,

"The westering beams aslant"

of the descending sun.

But from Mount Mitchell, where one is still tempted to linger, since my first visit a way has been opened quite to the highest point. As one rides along the undulating crest of the ridge, he has presented to him a succession of varied, picturesque, and beautiful views. Sometimes he passes through open spots, smooth and green enough to be the dancing grounds of the fairies, and anon he plunges into dense forests of balsam, over grounds covered by thick beds of moss, so soft and elastic that a wearied man reposes on it as he would on a basin of fluid mercury. In the last and largest of the little prairies, one will be apt to pause awhile, not only for the sake of the magnificent panorama in the distance, but also because attracted by the gentle beauty of the spot, its grassy, waving surface, interspersed with flattened rocky seats, studded in the sunlight with glittering scales of mica, and here and there clusters of young balsams flourishing in their freshest and richest green, in this, their favorite climate, pointed at top, but spreading below evenly till their lower branches touch the earth, and presenting the outlines of regular cones.

From this place the highest peak is soon attained. Any one who doubts its altitude may thus easily satisfy himself, for it stands, and will continue to stand, courting measurement. One who, from the eminence, looks down on its vast proportions, its broad base and long spurs running out for miles in all directions, and gazes in silent wonder on its dark plumage of countless firs, will feel no fear that its "shadow will ever become less," or that in the present geological age it will meet the fate fancied by the poet, when he wrote the words:

"Winds under ground, or waters forcing way,

Sidelong had pushed a mountain from his seat,
Half sunk with all his pines."

I fear, my dear sir, that I have made this letter much too long for your patience, and yet the vegetation and surrounding scenery of this mountain, peculiar and remarkable as it is, might well tempt me to say many things that I have omitted. I hope your interest in all that relates to natural science will find an apology for my having trespassed on your valuable time. I am very truly yours, &c.,

T. L. CLINGMAN.

[Inquiries are often made as to the heights of various mountains and localities in the western part of North Carolina. To meet such I append a letter of Professor Arnold Guyot. He, during three summers, continued his examination in that section of the State. After his third and last exploration he addressed a letter to the editor of the Asheville News, which was published in its issue of July 18, 1860.]

GUYOT'S MEASUREMENT OF THE MOUNTAINS OF

WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE ASHEVILLE News:

For the last ten years I have devoted the greater portion of my summer excursions to the study of the geography of the Alleghany system, and to the measurement of the height of its mountains. After having ascertained the elevation of the most remarkable peaks of the White and Green Mountains of New England, and of the mountainous tract of the Adirondack in the State of New York, my attention was turned toward the beautiful mountain region of North Carolina, which was said to possess the most elevated peaks of the whole Appalachian range.

It is well known, however, to most of your readers, that when I began my investigations in the Black Mountain in July, 1856, accompanied by my friends, Rev. Dr. H. Green and Mr. E. Sandoz, no other measurements had been attempted in that region, or at least published, as far as I could learn, than those of the noble scientific pioneer in that field, the lamented Dr. E. Mitchell, of Chapel Hill University, and a partial measurement by Hon. T. L. Clingman, to whom also we are indebted for the first clear, accurate, and most graphic description of the Black Mountain. But the statements that Dr. Mitchell made, at different times, of the results of his measurement failed to agree with each other, and owing to unfavorable circumstances and the want of proper

instruments, the precise location of the points measured, especially of the highest, had remained quite indefinite, even in the mind of Dr. Mitchell himself, as I learned it from his own mouth in 1856. I was, therefore, the more anxious to solve these questions by making, first of all, a thorough examination of the Black Mountain. I did so. In my first visit in July, 1856, I had the pleasure of having Dr. Mitchell's company for two days, during that visit, and the second in 1858, which lasted one month each. I measured all the peaks of the Black Mountain; including the Roan and Grandfather Mountains. In a third, in 1859, I ran once more over the whole chain of the Black Mountain to the north end. These several measurements of different years agree so closely with each other, that I feel a considerable degree of confidence in their accuracy. I was confirmed in this belief by the result of a series of levels, carried by Major J. C. Turner from the same point on the Swannanoa river from which I started myself to the highest point on the Black Mountain. Major Turner, who had my own figures in his hands, passed through four of my points, and found them to agree with his own elevations within one or two feet, and the highest about within a yard. So close an agreement by two different methods, and on so great an elevation, is seldom expected.

My measurements have been made with excellent barometers, by Ernst, in Paris, and often and carefully compared with each other. The position of the points measured, has been determined and mapped down, by means of observations with the sextant and a small theodolite. The corresponding observations have been made by my young friends, Mr. E. Sandoz, in 1856, and M. E. Grand Pierre, in 1858 and 1859, both faithful and well practiced observers.

In my excursion last year, 1859, after having re-examined the Black Mountain, I devoted several weeks more to the measurement of the mountains in Haywood and Jackson counties, especially the various Balsam ranges and the great Smoky Mountains.

Though, when studying a group of mountains, my attention is far from being confined to the measurement of the elevation of the highest points, which is a fact of less importance than the physical structure, the proportion of all parts and the relative situation of the various chains composing it, being aware of the interest which was felt among the people of the mountain region in knowing the comparative elevation of the Black Mountain and the great Smoky range, I devoted a special care to that object. By a series of simultaneous observations for two days, taken every half hour at Asheville and at Waynesville, at the residence of Mr. J. R. Love and Colonel R. Love, whose guest I had then the pleasure to be, was found to be situated four hundred and sixty-six feet above Asheville court-house square; and assuming as I do, this last point to be twenty-two hundred and fifty feet, and not twenty-two hundred and sixty feet above the level of the sea, Colonel R. G. A. Love's house becomes twenty-seven hundred and sixteen feet above tide-water. By leveling, I found Waynesville at Welch's Hotel, and court-house sidewalk to be forty feet higher, viz : twenty-seven hundred and fifty-six feet above tide. By another series of two days of hourly observations, the house of Robert Collins, Esq., at the foot of the great Smoky Mountain, was found to be exactly