LETTER XV.

DEAR FRANK,

WE E are now at the warm spring, feeding most sumptuously on venison and mutton, and passing our time in an agreeable variety of eating, drinking, and sleeping-sleeping, eating, and drinking-and drinking, eating, and sleeping. The spring is in the bottom of a little valley, shut in by high mountains, and looking like the abode of the sylvan gods, the Oreades, and all the flat-footed nymphs of the mountains. The bath here is the most luxurious in the world; its temperature about that of the body, its purity almost equal to that of the circumambient air: and the fixed air plays against the skin in a manner that tickles the fancy wonderfully. About five miles farther on, are springs of still higher temperature, being from one hundred and two to one hundred and eight degrees. They are resorted to by people who have tried the warm spring in vain, for rheumatic and other complaints.

Oliver has already discovered, to a positive certainty, that this valley has been neither more nor less than the crater of a volcano; which is doubtless the reason why the waters of it are so warm. He has picked up several substances, that have evidently undergone the action of fire, whether from a vol

cano, some neighbouring forge, or lime-kiln, I leave it to my masters, the philosophers, to discuss. For my part, I wish them success, in their praiseworthy attempts to find out how the world was made; for as knowledge is power, we shall then doubtless have several new worlds created by these wise people, free from all the faults and deficiences of the old one. I am sure if a volcano, or a comet, is necessary to enable them to come at the truth, I am the last man in the world to deny them a trifling matter of this sort. A carpenter requires axes, saws, hammers, and chisels, for building a house; and certainly a philosopher is entitled to tools corresponding to the prodigious magnitude of his undertaking. If they wanted fifty volcanoes, and a hundred comets, they might have them and welcome for all me; provided the volcanoes were fairly burnt out, and the comets would pledge their word of honour not to return till the time foretold by Newton.

The warm spring is principally used as a bath, although people occasionally drink, and cattle are, in a little time, very fond of it. Indeed, the instinct of animals has led us to some of the best remedies in the world; and I understand all the salt licks, and many of the medicinal springs, in the western country, were originally indicated by the concourse of wild beasts to those places. I drank of this water, but it created an unpleasant sensation of fulness in my head and eyes. The bath is about thirty feet in diameter, forming an octagon, walled two or three feet above the water's edge; the bottom covered

with pebbles, and the water so pure, that if it were only deeper, one's head would turn in looking down into it.

I shall keep my remarks on the amusements, or rather want of amusements, modes of killing time, and habits of living at this place, until I have seen the other springs, which I purpose to visit; when I will lump them all together, and much good may they do you, my honest friend. All I shall tell you at present is, that I killed a rattlesnake this morning, and despoiled him of fourteen rattles, which I shall keep as trophies. These fellows are by no means common; though they tell stories of places in the mountains, where nobody but hunters ever go, where there are thousands. They are formidable dogs; and certainly, bating their being serpents, are pretty decent reptiles; for they never retreat, are never the first to attack, and always give the enemy fair notice before they commence the war. You know it is fair to give even the d-l his due; and why not a rattlesnake, which always puts one in mind of him?

I hear all the dogs of the establishment in an uproar, and have no doubt but Oliver's pet is at his old tricks.

LETTER XVI.

DEAR FRANK,

My last letter* came to an untimely end, for reasons I therein gave, and which I hope proved satisfactory. I was always of opinion, that a man that had nothing to say, had better say nothing; and that when he has written himself out, he had better lay up the stump of his pen, and make verses to it, as Cid Hamet Benengeli did, when he had finished the renowned history of Don Quixotte de la Mancha. I hope these opinions are to your liking; but if they are not, it is all the same to me; for I am one of those people, whose opinions are settled the more firmly, like sand-bars, by the opposition of the currents.

We left the warm springs for divers good reasons. First, the venison began to run short:-secondly, there were no pretty ladies; and Oliver cannot live without them-and, thirdly, we were tired; for there is a desperate monotony in all watering-places, that I should suppose would render them intolerable to every body, except invalids and bachelors, who don't know when they are well off, and want to get married -young ladies in the qui vive—and married people tired of home and happiness. For my part, I think a man who goes to a watering-place to get a wife,

YOL. I-M 2

* Omitted-ED.

deserves to be-married; a crime which, as Sir Peter Teazle says, "always brings with it its own punishment.” I must, however, do the people of Virginia the justice to say, that they have better reasons for visiting the springs than most folks, since they do it to avoid the climate of the low country, which, in the months of August and September, is often unhealthy.

We left the warm spring late in the afternoon, intending to sleep at the hot springs, about five miles distant, but were not able to procure lodgings as we expected. We therefore pushed on for a house about ten miles off, where we were told we might be accommodated. It was sunset, in the depth of these valleys, when we passed the hot springs; and, long before we got to the place of destination, night overtook us. But it was bright moonlight, and we jogged on without difficulty, between two high mountains, approaching close to each other, and only separated by a narrow verdant bottom, through which a little brook meandered quietly along. The scene was worth a description; but, as we were both tired and hungry, you must excuse my being particular.

After "travelling, and travelling, and travelling," as the story-books say, we came at last to a stately two-story house, which we could see by the moonlight, was magnificently bedecked with old petticoats stuck in the window panes. It stood on an eminence, by the road-side, at the foot of which ran a little brawling river, whose murmuring we had heard at a distance. We alighted and knocked at the door of this castle of desolation; when out came, not a