here we had a view of
Table Mountain to the east and the nearer giant Blacks. The elevation of
Burnsville gives it a delightful summer climate, the gentle undulations
of the country are agreeable, the views noble, the air is good, and
it is altogether a "livable" and attractive place. With facilities of
communication, it would be a favorite summer resort. Its nearness to the
great mountains (the whole Black range is in Yancey County), its fine
pure air, its opportunity for fishing and hunting, commend it to those
in search of an interesting and restful retreat in summer.

But it should be said that before the country can attract and retain
travelers, its inhabitants must learn something about the preparation of
food. If, for instance, the landlord's wife at Burnsville had traveled
with her husband, her table would probably have been more on a level
with his knowledge of the world, and it would have contained something
that the wayfaring man, though a Northerner, could eat. We have been on
the point several times in this journey of making the observation, but
have been restrained by a reluctance to touch upon politics, that it was
no wonder that a people with such a cuisine should have rebelled. The
travelers were in a rebellious mood most of the time.

The evidences of enterprise in this region were pleasant to see, but
the observers could not but regret, after all, the intrusion of the
money-making spirit, which is certain to destroy much of the present
simplicity. It is as yet, to a degree, tempered by a philosophic spirit.
The other guest of the house was a sedate, long-bearded traveler for
some Philadelphia house, and in the evening he and the landlord fell
into a conversation upon what Socrates calls the disadvantage of the
pursuit of wealth to the exclusion of all noble objects, and they let
their fancy play about Vanderbilt, who was agreed to be the richest man
in the world, or that ever lived.

"All I want," said the long-bearded man, "is enough to be comfortable. I
would n't have Vanderbilt's wealth if he'd give it to me."

"Nor I," said the landlord. "Give me just enough to be comfortable."
[The tourist couldn't but note that his ideas of enough to be
comfortable had changed a good deal since he had left his little farm
and gone into the mica business, and visited New York, and enlarged and
painted his tavern.] "I should like to know what more Vanderbilt gets
out of his money than I get out of mine. I heard