AT NATURAL BRIDGE 213 



Having gone under the arch (and looked 

 in vain for Washington's initials on the 

 wall), the visitor to Natural Bridge finds 

 himself following up the brook a lively 

 stream between iofty precipitous cliffs, 

 that turn to steep wooded slopes as he pro- 

 ceeds. If he is like me, he pursues the path 

 to the end, stopping here and there, at 

 the saltpetre cave, at Hemlock Island, and 

 at Lost River, if nowhere else, till he 

 comes to the end at the falls, a distance of a 

 mile, more or less. That is my way always. 

 I must go straight through the place once ; 

 then, the edge of my curiosity dulled, I am 

 in a condition to see and enjoy. 



The ravine is a botanist's paradise : that, 

 I should say, must be the first thought of 

 every appreciative tourist. The elevation 

 (fifteen hundred feet), the latitude, and the 

 limestone rocks work together to that end. 

 In a stay of a week I could see, of course, 

 but one set of flowers; and in my preoc- 

 cupation I passed many herbs and shrubs, 

 mostly out of bloom, the names of which 

 I neither knew nor attempted to discover. 

 One of the things that struck my admira- 

 tion on the instant was the beauty of the 



