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LETTERS FROM THE OLD DOMINION.

No. I.

Harper's Ferry, Va., May 2, 1837.

THEY who like ourselves, my dear ****, have been only "Tarry at Home Travellers," may perhaps find some gratification in the description of the scenes and incidents even of a little travel in one of our neighboring states. As you requested it, especially, I feel under some obligations to attempt the unwonted task of a travelling letter writer; which I do, however, with the assurance that your kind indulgence will make up for the want of intrinsic interest, which, I fear, will too greatly characterize my epistles.

For the first time, I am in the Old Dominion; the state in many respects so highly distinguished above most others of our Union. Its rivers and its mountains-its limestone caverns, and other remarkable natural curiosities-its salubrious watering places-the circumstances of its settlement and infancy-the events of our Revolution, of which Virginia was the theatre-the fact that to that state we owe our Washington, and Patrick Henry, and Madison, and Marshall, with a host of our most illustrious patriots and statesmen of the present as well as of former days-all these, make Virginia the object of no common interest. We may be allowed to feel a glow of patriotic pride, too, as we remember that the men whom we have named are not alone Virginia's sons, but those of our common country; and as we pass beneath the brow of Monticello, or bend over the tomb of our country's father, our hearts may well grow indignant at the thought of a dissolution of the union of those who are bound together as one people, by ties so strong, and recollections so sacred, as those which unite our citizens in interest, in character, and in feeling.

Yesterday morning, you remember, when we left home, the cloudiness and coolness of the weather promised us but little pleasure from our first day's Maying. As we steamed it rapidly down the noble Delaware, we passed in quick succession the southern front of our beautiful city, its Navy Yard, Fort Mifflin, and the Lazaretto. The country on each side of the river, which is too level ever to appear interesting, seemed particularly dull at this time, from the absence of the verdure usual at this season. Wilmington, on our right, appeared to lie almost below the level of the water; and the course of the beautiful Christiana, at whose junction with the Brandywine the town is situated, could only be marked by the sails which here and there might be seen through the openings in the woods. Before we arrived at Newcastle, where we were to transfer ourselves to the rail

road cars for Frenchtown, the sun had dispersed the clouds, and under a clear sky we were rapidly and pleasantly transported across the peninsula. By 3 P. M. we had sailed down the Chesapeake, delivered our passengers for Norfolk and Richmond to the steamer that was in waiting near the mouth of the Patapsco, and had reached the Monumental city.

We had sufficient time in the afternoon to perambulate through the pleasantest streets of the city, under the guidance of a kind Baltimorean friend, with whom we visited the Monuments and the Cathedral, which have so often been described that I need only mention them. The manner in which we spent a delightful evening will be narrated at some other time, as since the "right of search" has been deputed to all our postmasters, it would hardly be safe to run the risk of exposure by committing it to the mail. Suffice it to say, that it was in the company of an esteemed friend from Philadelphia, whom we chanced to meet in our walk, and in as good a place as the lecture room of the Rev. Dr. H.'s church. We may venture to add, that an evening spent at a Baltimore "fair," confirmed our previous impression of the deservedly high reputation of Baltimore beauty.

Expecting to spend a few days in B. on our homeward route, and disposed to lose no time in reaching a warmer clime by moving farther south, we started at six this morning for this place. The rail road, which has been in operation for some months, was not in very good order; and indeed, we should think it difficult to keep it in good order for any considerable length of time, on account of the great number of curves in the road. As the morning was cool, though clear, we were compelled to keep up the windows of the cars, so that we were debarred from the sight of much of the beautiful scenery that lies on each side of the road. In about an hour and a half, we stopped to breakfast at Ellicott's Mills, where we were again obliged to regret the diminution of the beauty of the surrounding country, occasioned by the entire absence of foliage from the forest trees. Soon after 12 o'clock, M. we parted with those of our fellow passengers whose course was towards Wheeling, Va. and "the West," who here turned to the northwest, on the branch of the rail road from Fredericktown, Md. The country hereabouts began to assume new interest from the presence of the mountains, a feature of the landscape which proves a source of endless variety, and, to me, of unwearied pleasure.

About twelve miles from this place, at the Point of Rocks, we came in sight of the Potomac. From this point the rail road runs along the bank of the river, and follows the windings of its beautiful and rapid stream. To lay the rails it has been necessary, in many places, to cut out the solid rock; and we had thus, on the one hand, the overhanging cliff for many feet above us, and on the other, and

as far below, the river kept up its incessant and pleasing murmur, as it dashed over the rocks so thickly scattered throughout its bed. The scenery here is not dissimilar to that which may be observed from the canal on the banks of the Susquehannah, above Harrisburg, though the latter is greatly inferior in beauty, since the mountains there are neither so extensive, so lofty, nor so bold.

Almost the first object that attracted our notice when near the town, was a neat and even handsome church, seated on a lofty hill immediately back of the village; and we soon formed the determination to pay it an early visit, as its location promised us a very extensive view of the surrounding country. We crossed the Potomac on the rail road bridge, and at about 3 P. M. took up our comfortable quarters in the National Hotel, kept by Mr. Gibson. The views from the windows of this house are such as are afforded by few others in the United States. Opposite one, on the east, is a lofty mountain, at whose base rolls the Potomac, rushing to its junction with the Shenandoah. From another, is seen the view usually given in engravings of this place; and of which they will afford you a clearer idea than you could gain from any description of mine, though pen and pencil are alike inadequate to give you even a faint conception of its beauty and grandeur.

As soon as we were somewhat rested, and had dined, we sought the hill before mentioned, the base of which was but a few rods distant from our hotel. We ascended it by means of natural steps, or, rather, steps cut in the rock. The church itself lost much of its interest to us, when we discovered that it was dedicated to the superstitions of the Romanists: they certainly have displayed most excellent taste and judgment, however, in the selection of this spot for the edifice.

From the steps of the church, and at an elevation perhaps of two hundred feet from the river, we had a view more beautiful than any I had ever beheld. We were on a mountain and surrounded by mountains. On our right, was a ridge, extending before and behind us as far as the eye could reach; and on whose slopes the clouds by their shadows were producing an ever changing contrast of light and shade, heightened by the varied coloring of the forests, from the dark ever-green of the pines and cedars, to the bright spring-green of the more advanced brush and other trees that were just putting out their leaves and blossoms. Between us and the mountain flowed the Shenandoah, whose shallow but clear waters reflected from the mountains and the passing clouds every hue, and the constant music of whose falls, mellowed by the height to which it rose, conspired to produce an effect in the highest degree delightful. At our feet lay the town, separated by the Potomac from the opposite mountain; and the two rivers here meeting at right angles flow on in one wider stream, till lost to the sight by a sudden turn around the base of a not distant mountain.

Leaving the church we ascended the hill still further, where we observed a masonic hall, that appeared to be used, also, as a school house. Still higher, on the very summit of the hill, is a buryingground: an appropriate spot, indeed, as though they would place the very bodies of their dead, as near to heaven as possible.

To-morrow morning, we intend visiting the Table rock, on which Jefferson is said to have lain whilst writing his most eloquent description of this place, contained in his Notes on Virginia. Lest you may not have read it, I will transcribe it; if you have not, though no other part of the letter prove interesting, this I think will repay you for the time that you have devoted to its perusal.

"The passage of the Potomac through the Blue Ridge," says the philosopher, "is one of the most stupendous scenes in nature. You stand on a very high point of land. On your right comes up the Shenandoah, having ranged along the foot of the mountain an hundred miles to seek a vent. On your left approaches the Potomac in quest of a passage also. In the moment of their junction they rush together against the mountain, rend it asunder and pass off to the sea.*** But the distant finishing which nature has given to the picture, is of a very different character. It is a true contrast to the fore-ground. It is as placid and delightful, as that is wild and tremendous. For the mountain being cloven asunder, she presents to your eye, through the cleft, a small catch of smooth blue horizon, at an infinite distance in the plain country, inviting you, as it were, from the riot and tumult roaring around, to pass through the breach and participate of the calm below."

My next letter will probably be written from Staunton, Augusta County, which we hope to reach this week.

Your sincere friend,

B.

EPILEGOMENA.

MANY and strange events have transpired, dear reader, and divers changes have taken place, since thy perusal of the last number of the Yale Literary Magazine. Not a few of these are worthy of thy notice as facts connected with college history, and these we shall briefly enumerate. "Be it remembered" then, by thyself and all concerned, "that on the twenty fifth day of April, A. D. 1837, and in the sixty first year of the independence of the United States of America," the doors of the college chapel were opened agreeably to notice, at eight o'clock, A. M. for the Junior exhibition. The au

dience presented an array of beauty and intelligence well fitted to inspire those who should make their début on this interesting occasion; in fact, the exhibition audience (grâces à son gout!) is always quite select. The exercises of the day were conducted in the usual form. After the venerable President had taken his chair, an anthem was sung by the choir with their accustomed taste and skill. Suffice it to say, that in the performance of this and of other anthems during the day, but especially of "Miriam's Song," the Beethoven Society gained much credit. The instrumental music also, which was performed at intervals, did honor to those concerned in it; thus proving that the fine arts can be cultivated even in college. Orations and dissertations on various subjects, dramatic pieces, colloquies both serious and humorous, and a poem, made an agreeable variety in the exhibition. To enter into particulars here would be invidious; the exhibition in general was creditable. Nor shall we institute a comparison between it and those of former years; lest we might wrong our worthy predecessors, who acquitted themselves so nobly in their turn. One word upon the propriety of such exhibitions. Notwithstanding the many objections urged against them, we regard the fact that the wisdom and experience of the fathers of our institution have established and still sanction them, as a strong argument a priori in their favor. It is true that much time and labor are spent in "getting up" an exhibition, and that these items are seldom duly appreciated; yet the mental discipline gained in preparation, and the advantage of appearing thus early in public, more than compensate for any such expense. The question of college honors refers more properly to Commencements than to Junior exhibitions: we only maintain, that if the former are continued, the latter should be. The general style and character of the pieces is lighter and more entertaining at the Exhibition than at Commencement; at least the sadness of the parting hour, which solemnizes the one occasion, is not felt upon the other. In fine, let not the Junior exhibition be done away with; it forms, as it were, a resting place in our course, to which we may recur with many grateful remembrances.

Reader, thou hast doubtless ere this visited the library room of thy Society. Here too hath been a change. Thou seest,-but hold! we must explain to those who have no communion within these walls. Know, then, profani, qui procul abestis, that there are in connection with this institution three general literary societies, embracing all the classes. To each of these is attached a library; and the aggregate of the volumes in the three is sixteen thousand, distinct of course from the college library. The respective library rooms have recently been enlarged, and neatly fitted up with alcoves, so that a much greater number of volumes can be accommodated. These improvements, and the libraries themselves, speak well for the enterprise and literary taste of our little community.