Impressions of America During the Years 1833, 1834 and 1835. Volume 1 (of 2)Power, Tyrone
History
Impressions of America During the Years 1833, 1834 and 1835. Volume 1 (of 2)
Power, Tyrone
Canada -- Description and travel; United States -- Description and travel
Close upon our left ran the Potomac, but so changed in character, that
the stranger, who from the Capitol had traced the mazy windings of this
mighty stream, whose deep indents and sluggish current show like a
series of lakes stretching away till lost in distance, suddenly removed
to this point, short of two miles, would hardly credit that the narrow,
noisy mountain stream beside him was the same, the very fountain and
feeder of the inland sea spreading below.
It was now dry, fine weather; no rain had fallen for some time; and the
stream, pent within narrow limits, cowered beneath the wooded heights of
the Virginia shore: but the condition of every unprotected level on our
side spoke awfully of its force, when, backed by supplies from the
mountains, it extends itself abroad, overthrowing trees and banks, and
leaving their huge ruins to mark in undoubted characters the true limit
of its sovereignty.
At this time it was in its most peaceful mood, and went on, now
expanding placidly over an even bed, and now divided before some
stubborn rock-founded islet, chafing as it were at being compelled to
yield to an obstruction it had as yet failed to overcome.
Viewed at all points, the stream conducted by Nature outfaced, in my
eyes, the neighbour work of her children; coursing onward, as it went,
defying the hand of man, and rejoicing in its rude freedom.
About the most savage part of our ride, where the path was a wide
rampart of stone without any parapet, bounded on one hand by the canal
and the overhanging rocks through which it was cut, and on the other, at
a precipitous depth of eighty feet, by the rocky bed of the river, we
were threatened with a hurricane, or other outbreak of the elements, of
the wildest kind.
It had become on a sudden unnaturally sultry: before us a cloud fell
like a huge black curtain, until resting upon the lofty bluffs between
which the river now ran, it was draped in folds down to the water; over
this curtain broke a lurid silvery sort of light, making all things
hideous; a heavy moaning sound as of wind was heard throughout the
forest; the leaves shook rattling upon the surrounding shrubs, yet no
air was perceptible even whilst going at a gallop. For a moment this
strange sound would cease wholly, and then roar forth again, as though
the pent tempest was striving close at hand for space and freedom of
action.
Occasionally a vivid flash of lightning would stream from the impending
cloud downward upon the river; and, in momentary expectation of a
regular tornado, on we spurred to reach some shelter.
But after all, our fears were fruitless, or let me rather say our
hopes, since we agreed that a hurricane chancing here would be a
consummation singularly happy. It is certain no fitter scene could well
have been selected for such an event, and indeed this was all that was
needed to make the savage grandeur of the picture perfect.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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