CESAR'S HEAD, CHIMNEY ROCK 95 
the beautiful valley, the mountains draw in about 
you, and you are at "Logan's," a large, old-fashioned 
farmhouse which was converted to the uses of a way- 
side inn when the road went through to Ruther- 
fordton, connecting the mountains above here with 
the low country. Logan's is "in the scenery," so 
they tell you a good many times while there — and 
unquestionably it is. A beautiful cultivated valley 
lies about the house enchantingly surrounded by 
mountains. The mountains of this region, although 
so individual in form, so picturesque, or so beauti- 
ful, are, according to General Logan, worth about a 
cent apiece, there is so little soil on them. 
Close to us is the Old Rumbling Bald, high up on 
whose rocky top is what appears to be a cabin, but 
which is such only in seeming — from some trick of 
the shadows against the broken rock. This is pointed 
out to the visitor as "Esmeralda's cabin," so named 
because here at Logan's the author of "Esmeralda" 
wrote her play in the presence of the Old Rumbling 
Bald. The Old Rumbling Bald is, perhaps, the most 
noted of any mountain in this part of the world. Up 
to 1878, he was just the "Old Bald," but then he 
began to rumble and shake the earth, and thereby 
attained a distinction that set him apart from all the 
other mountains of the Blue Ridge. Whatever 
else the others were or did, none of them "rumbled." 
From '78 to '80 the Old Bald kept the people won- 
dering, and those near him apprehensive. What was 
he rumbling about? Why was he shaking the earth? 
And what would he do next? He rumbled his last 
