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After riding about a mile and a quarter, we came to the point beyond which horses cannot be taken,
and dismounting our steeds, commenced ascending on foot. The way was very steep, and the day so
warm, that we had to halt often to take breath. As we approached the summit, the trees were all of a
dwarfish growth, and twisted and gnarled by the storms of that high region. There were, also, a few
blackberry bushes, bearing their fruit long after the season had passed below. A few minutes longer
brought us to where the trees ceased to grow; but a huge mass of rocks, piled wildly on the top of each
other, finished the termination of the peak. Our path lay for some distance around the base of it, and
under the overhanging battlements; and rather descending for awhile until it led to a part of the pile,
which could with some effort be scaled. There was no ladder, nor any artificial steps—and the only
means of ascent was by climbing over the successive rocks. We soon stood upon the wild platform of
one of nature's most magnificent observatories—isolated, and apparently above all things else terrestrial,
and looking down upon, and over, a beautiful, variegated, and at the same time grand, wild, wonderful,
and almost boundless panorama. Indeed, it was literally boundless; for there was a considerable
haze resting upon some parts of "the world below;" so that, in the distant horizon, the earth and sky
seemed insensibly to mingle with each other.

I had been there before. I remember when a boy of little more than ten years old, to have been
taken to that spot, and how my unpractised nerves forsook me at the awful sublimity of the scene. On
this day it was as new as ever; as wild, wonderful, and sublime, as if I had never before looked from
those isolated rocks, or stood on that lofty summit. On one side, towards eastern Virginia, lay a comparatively
level country, in the distance, bearing a strong resemblance to the ocean; on the other hand,

were ranges of high mountains, interspersed with cultivated spots, and then terminating in piles of
mountains, following in successive ranges, until they were lost also in the haze. Above and below, the Blue
Ridge and Alleghanies ran off in long lines; sometimes relieved by knolls and peaks, and in one place
above us making a graceful curve, and then again running off in a different line of direction. Very near us
stood the rounded top of the other peak, looking like a sullen sentinel for its neighbor. We paused in silence
for a time. We were there almost cut off from the world below, standing where it was fearful even to
look down. It was more hazy than at the time of my last visit, but not too much so to destroy the interest
of the scene.

There was almost a sense of pain, at the stillness which seemed to reign. We could hear the flapping
of the wings of the hawks and buzzards, as they seemed to be gathering a new impetus after sailing
through one of their circles in the air below us. North of us, and on the other side of the Valley of
Virginia, were the mountains near Lexington, just as seen from that beautiful village—the Jump, North,
and House Mountains succeeding each other; they were familiar with a thousand associations of our
childhood, seeming mysteriously, when away from the spot, to bring my early home before me—not in
imagination, such as had often haunted me when I first left it to find another in the world, but in substantial
reality. Further on down the valley, and at a great distance, was the top of a large mountain,
which was thought to be the great North Mountain, away down in Shenandoah county—I am afraid to
say how far off. Intermediate between these mountains, and extending opposite and far above us, was
the Valley of Virginia, with its numerous and highly cultivated farms. Across this valley, and in the
distance, lay the remotest ranges of the Alleghany and the mountains about; and I suppose beyond the
White Sulphur Springs. Nearer us, and separating eastern and western Virginia, was the Blue Ridge,
more than ever showing the propriety of its cognomen of the "backbone;" and on which we could
distinctly see two zigzag turnpikes, the one leading to Fincastle, and the other to Buchanan; and over
which latter we had travelled a few days before. With the spyglass we could distinguish the houses in
the village of Fincastle, some twenty-five or thirty miles off, and the road leading to the town.

Turning towards the direction of our morning's ride, we had beneath us Bedford county, with its
smaller mountains, farms and farm-houses—the beautiful village of Liberty, the county roads, and occasionally
a mill-pond, reflecting the sun like a sheet of polished silver. The houses on the hill at Lynchburg,
twenty-five or thirty miles distant, are distinctly visible on a clear day, and also Willis' Mountain
away down in Buckingham county.

I had often visited Bedford, and had been more or less familiar with it from childhood; but at our
elevation, distances were so annihilated, and appearances so changed, that we could scarcely recognise
the most familiar objects. After some difficulty, we at length made out the residence of Dr. M., we had
that morning left, and at that moment rendered more than usually interesting, by containing, in addition
to the other very dear relatives, two certain ladies, who sustained a very interesting connexion with the
doctor and myself, and one of whom had scarcely laid aside the blushes of her bridal hour.

A little beyond this, I recognised the former residence of a beloved sister, now living in a distant
southern state. It was the same steep hill ascending to the gate, the same grove around the house, as
when she lived there, and the same as when I played there in my boyhood. And it was the first time I
had seen it since the change of owners. I then saw it from the Peaks of Otter but it touched a thousand
tender cords; and I almost wept when I thought, that those I once there loved were far away,
and that the scenes of my youthful days could not return.

Myself and companions had, some time before, gotten on different rocks, that we might not interrupt
each other in our contemplations. I could not refrain, however, from saying to one of them, "What
little things we are! how factitious our ideas of what is extensive in territory and distance!" A splendid
estate was about the size I could step over; and I could stand and look at the very house whence I
used often to start in days gone by, and follow with my eye my day's journey to the spot where, wearied
and worn down, I dismounted with the setting sun. Yet I could look over what seemed so great a space,
with a single glance. I could also look away down the Valley of Virginia, and trace the country, and,
in imagination, the stage-coach, as it slowly wound its way, day and night for successive days, to reach
the termination of what I could throw my eye over in a moment. I was impressively reminded of the
extreme littleness with which these things of earth would all appear, when the tie of life which binds
us here is broken, and we shall be able to look back and down upon them from another world. The
scene and place are well calculated to excite such thoughts.

It is said that John Randolph once spent the night on these elevated rocks, attended by no one but his
servant; and that, when in the morning he had witnessed the sun rising over the majestic scene, he
turned to his servant, having no other to whom he could express his thoughts, and charged him, "never
from that time to believe any one who told him there was no God."

I confess, also, that my mind was most forcibly carried to the judgment-day; and I could but call the
attention of my companions to what would, probably, then be the sublime terror of the scene we now
beheld, when the mountains we saw and stood upon, should all be melted down like wax; when the
flames should be driving over the immense expanse before us; when the heavens over us should be
"passing away with a great noise," and when the air beneath and around us should be filled with the
very inhabitants now dwelling and busied in that would beneath us.