“Let them enjoy their freedom,” said the other, yet more mildly, and with half a sigh; “it is now their time—life will tame them soon enough!”
But would it not, after all, be better if young girls were educated to meet the hand of the tamer with another spirit than the colt meets the bridle? The combat would then be less severe and more noble than after this freedom of the young colt.
The following morning I found myself at Baltimore, and set off thence immediately by railway to Harper's Ferry. I had heard so much of the beautiful scenery of this part of Virginia, that I determined to go there to enjoy the effect of “the most sublime scenery of Virginia,” as it was called.
The railway-train flew onward, making innumerable windings and turnings along the wooded and romantic banks of a little river, with such abruptness and irregularity, as to remind me of a terrified cow, and to make me fear every moment lest it should be swung into the river. But we arrived, without let or hindrance, at the little hamlet at Harper's Ferry.
Here I remained for three days alone and unknown, enjoying greatly my solitary rambles over the hills, and in that romantic region. It reminded me of certain hilly districts of Dalecarlia, and still more of Münden Valley in Germany, where the rivers Fulda and Verra meet, because the rock formation and the vegetation are similar in these two cases. Here it is that the lively, sportive Schenandoah and the grave Potomac meet and unite to form the great Potomac river. Schenandoah is a gay and good young maiden, dancing carelessly along between verdant banks—laughing, leaping in the innocent enjoyment of life. Potomac is a gentleman of much older years, who advances onward solemnly and silently from the forests of the west, with slow movement and shallow water. He meets the gay Schenandoah, and draws
