in and again they disappeared and came to view,
now on one side and now on the other, until our train seemed to be
bewitched, making frantic efforts by dodgings and turnings, now through
tunnels and now over high pieces of trestle, to escape the inevitable
attraction that was gravitating it down to the hospitable lights at the
bottom of the well. When we climbed back up the road in the morning, we
had an opportunity to see the marvelous engineering, but there is little
else to see, the view being nearly always very limited.

The hotel at the bottom of the ravine, on the side of Round Nob, offers
little in the way of prospect, but it is a picturesque place, and we
could understand why it was full of visitors when we came to the table.
It was probably the best-kept house of entertainment in the State,
and being in the midst of the Black Hills, it offers good chances for
fishing and mountain climbing.

In the morning the fountain, which is, of course, artificial, refused
to play, the rain in the night having washed in debris which clogged the
conduit. But it soon freed itself and sent up for a long time, like
a sulky geyser, mud and foul water. When it got freedom and tolerable
clearness, we noted that the water went up in pulsations, which were
marked at short distances by the water falling off, giving the column
the appearance of a spine. The summit, always beating the air in efforts
to rise higher, fell over in a veil of mist.

There are certain excursions that the sojourner at Asheville must make.
He must ride forty-five miles south through Henderson and Transylvania
to Caesar's Head, on the South Carolina border, where the mountain
system abruptly breaks down into the vast southern plain; where the
observer, standing on the edge of the precipice, has behind him and
before him the greatest contrast that nature can offer. He must also
take the rail to Waynesville, and visit the much-frequented White
Sulphur Springs, among the Balsam Mountains, and penetrate the Great
Smoky range by way of Quallatown, and make the acquaintance of the
remnant of Cherokee Indians living on the north slope of Cheoah
Mountain. The Professor could have made it a matter of personal merit
that he escaped all these encounters with wild and picturesque nature,
if his horse had not been too disabled for such long jaunts. It is only
necessary, however, to explain to the public that the travelers are not
gormandizers of scenery, and were willing t