XXIV 
HIGHLANDS 
THERE is joy also in the valleys. From them 
you look up to the mountains transfigured by a 
light that crowns them in beauty. In the valleys are 
the homes of the people, the leafy inclosing hills, and 
the winding roads, following which a new picture un- 
folds each moment as you pass along. 
Leaving Whittier and facing towards the Blue 
Ridge, one may follow the valleys across the plateau 
from one bordering range to the other. When you 
come to the beautiful Cullowhee Valley, you ought 
to be going the other way, however, for the Balsam 
Mountains, lying so splendidly against the sky, are 
behind you, and you are constantly looking back as 
the valley opens and shuts and those noble heights 
come and go. 
And what does one now see beyond the Balsams? 
— those spirit-like forms high in the sky? It is the 
line of the Smoky Mountains, rehabilitated since we 
left them, and restored to their wonted place in the 
heavens. As the road winds on and up, you turn to 
see again and yet again the deep-toned Balsams and 
that line of dream mountains that grows higher as 
you ascend. 
"It's been heavy draughting all the evening." 
These words from your driver bring your thoughts 
