ASHEVILLE 135 
the mountains rolling away, peak after peak, to the 
far horizon. Besides, in spite of its urban airs there 
is the ever-conquering sun, shining on Asheville and 
drowning the mountains in its sweet Southern haze, 
there is the balmy languor of the South and the mel- 
low voice of the negro, to make you feel yourself in 
some secluded haven of rest, some happy escape 
from the turmoil and strife of a city, and this in 
spite of the census and the convenience of street- 
cars. 
But to the native mountaineer Asheville is not 
only a city, it is the city. Deep in the wilderness the 
people may never have heard of London or Paris, 
and but vaguely of New York, but Asheville is a 
reality. It is the true centre of civilization. Happen- 
ing one day to speak to a man, living near Roan 
Mountain, of the World's Fair that had been re- 
cently held in some, to him, unknow^n city, he showed 
a great deal of interest, but thought the location of 
the fair a mistake. "Why did n't they have it where 
everybody could go?" he complained; "why did n't 
they have it in Asheville." 
The hills of Asheville lie at an elevation of about 
two thousand feet, and are surrounded by mountains 
that stretch away in summits and ranges in whatever 
direction one may look. That beautiful form with 
the dome-like top, southwest of Asheville, is Mount 
Pisgah, and that ridge, a little lower and to the left 
of the summit, is the Rat. " Pisgah and the Rat ! " — 
the two names inexorably yoked together because 
the two shapes make one group, and the lower of 
