WITH SOME WANDERINGS IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF WASHINGTON, BRADDOCK, AND THE EARLY PIONEERS. BY BRANTZ MAYER. WHEN Madame de Sevigné exclaimed, in memory lingers, when we cross the Atlantic to the joy of her heart, "A journey to make, and Paris at the end of it!" she uttered the sentiment of a thorough-paced woman of the world, tired to death of those dreary old chateaus, which, like so many architectural poplars, break the monotonous levels of France, with their circular towers and sugar-loaf spires. Dull and uniform landscapes drive people to towns for the entertainment of society, and Man, with his manifold diversions, becomes tenfold more attractive than Nature with her homely russet and step-dame aspect. It is in this respect that rural life in the United States presents so much more beauty in its diversified forms; for if we reject the historical associations connected with most parts of the Old World, we shall reduce the number of spots upon which our American homes. Lakes and mountains, plain and upland, rock and river, exist in picturesque variety in Europe; but long use and over-population have deprived the country of that luxuriant forest-land and virginal freshness which give Nature most of her charms, release her from dependence on art, and constitute the peculiar features of our native scenery. In former times, when we traveled on horseback or in lumbering coaches, it mattered little if we went over hills or around them, and, of course, our early engineers were rather careless whether they ran their roads across meadows or struck into the mountains. Their main mathematical idea was, that "a straight line is the shortest between two points." Since the introduction of railways, the object has always been to avoid elevations, and keep along the lowlands; to follow river banks on a level with the sea, and to reduce a journey, if possible, to the tameness of a canal through the marshes of Holland. It has only been of late that bolder minds have ventured to restore romance to travel by scaling the Alleghanies with steam-engines, and making a jaunt through our upland dells and forests as great a delight as it was to those who first penetrated our wilderness. But, with all this improvement, there has been one drawback. The daring that ventured to disregard mountains has added to the speed with which their scenery is passed, so that, with increased rapidity, little time is allowed to observe the added objects of interest. "Going by rail," says Ruskin, in his last volume, "I do not consider to be traveling at all; it is merely being sent' to a place, and very little different from being a parcel. A man who really loves traveling would as soon consent to pack a day of such happiness into an hour of railroad, as one who loved eating would agree to concentrate his dinner into a pill." Yet, it is quite possible, if we are willing to forego our proverbial hurry, to enjoy fully the scenery through the highlands of our interior; for, although we can be transported at the rate of thirty or forty miles an hour, there is not a company in the Union that compels a wayfarer to transform himself into a package, or does not afford resting-places along its route, where travelers may linger as long as they please, to be taken up by fresh trains and forwarded to new spots of interest or beauty. In this way rapidity has its advantages. It skips us over the dull, and stops us at the interesting. Fine scenery, like pâté de foie gras, could never be enjoyed if we devoured it constantly, so that while steam is slurring us over the tame, it is whetting our appetites for fresh enjoyments at the ensuing pause. A party which was made up in Baltimore last spring to go from that city by rail to the Ohio, along much of the route which was pursued by the early pioneers with their pack-horses and caravans, enjoyed this mode of travel about as perfectly as it is possible. We were ten in number; and the officers of the Baltimore and Ohio Railway, knowing our desire to examine several points of historical interest in that region, were kind enough to invite us to join a special train, which was to make a patient reconnoissance, of the road. It is difficult to imagine any thing better contrived for the purpose than the equipment which was prepared to secure comfort and risk from accident. The engine was one of the best on the line, and the engineers and conductors were selected for their experienced skill. After the engine followed a car, fitted up partly as kitchen and partly as dining-room, where fifteen or twenty could take their meals as comfortably as in the cabin of a packet; then came two cars with reading-rooms, writing-tables, books, instruments, and every thing requisite for the reconnoitring party, while portions were fitted up with state rooms for accommodation at night; and, last of all, followed a car with convenient seats and abundant room for observation. In the forward part of this train, in charge of the "Commissary Department," were several excellent waiters, of high repute in their useful sphere; so that I doubt whether a party started this summer in any quarter of our country, III. WASHINGTON JUNOTION VIADUCT. in quest of health or diversion, better fortified against the "ills that flesh is heir to." The 24th of June was a fresh, bracing day, when we assembled at half-past six in the morning at the spacious dépôt, which is near completion, and were speedily off over the lowlands to the Relay House, where we breakfasted on the Maryland luxuries of "softcrabs" and "spring-chickens"-two delicacies which the unenlightened may get an idea of if they can imagine the luscious flavor of solidified cream browned over a hickory fire in clover-scented butter. The Relay House is the first spot where one observes the broken country through which so much of this road lies, for it is situated on the rise of the hills, near the place known as Elk Ridge Landing, to which vessels of considerable tonnage came, in the early days of Maryland, to load with tobacco for European markets. In consequence of diminished water, it has lost its ancient bustle and importance as a port of entry, and the Patapsco breaks through its picturesque gorge, with greatly shrunken volume, to find its way to the Chesapeake. Here the railway branches to the West and to Washington; the latter track crossing the ravine on a tall viaduct of granite, and the former pursuing a beautiful and broken ledge of the stream toward its head-waters in the hills. The imposing structure which spans the river with eight arches of sixty feet chord, at a height of sixty feet above the Patapsco, was one of the early designs of that distinguished engineer Benjamin H. Latrobe, under whose direction the road has been completed across the Alleghanies to the Ohio. In order to obtain a better view of this massive structure, which harmonizes so completely in color and di mensions with the scenery, we descended to the water's edge, where, framed like a picture in the granite arches, the valley opened westward, with its sloping hills, villa-studded groves, and placid river, and the Avalon Works relieved against the sky in the remote gap. The road turns around a bluff on quitting the Relay House for the West. It leaves the viaduct on the left, passes the Avalon Iron Works, V. THE POINT OF ROCKS. and skirting the river for six miles, reaches the village of Ellicott's Mills. Throughout this transit there is charming variety of hill, rock, and river scenery, interspersed with continual evidences of agricultural and manufacturing industry, the whole overshadowed at this season by fresh foliage among the granite which abounds in this district. From the Relay House to Ellicott's Mills, and thence onward to Elysville, the Patapsco gradually narrows and brawls over a rocky bed, affording valuable water-power which has been prosperously employed. We halted at Elysville for a short time to examine the peculiarities of an iron bridge invented by Mr. Wendel Bollman, of Baltimore, spanning the Patapsco with a double track of three hundred and forty feet. There are so many valuable elements of strength, security, and permanence in this invention, that I I would be glad to describe it minutely; but towers, chords, cores, tenons, rivets, sockets, suspension rods, and their scientific combinations, afford but dull entertainment for general readers, and, accordingly, I must refer the more curious to the ingenious artist himself, whenever they desire to promote the safety of railways by counteracting the evil effects of expansion and contraction, which have been so disastrous to many of the iron bridges of our country. We wound westwardly from Elysville five miles till we struck the fork of the Patapsco, when we turned its western branch, passed the Mariottsville quarries, crossed the river on an iron bridge of fifty feet, ran through a tunnel four hundred feet long, and hurrying across meadowlands, followed a crooked gorge to Sykesville in the heart of a region abounding in minerals. For a considerable distance beyond this settlement we traversed a rough, level country-our road, for the most part, cut from the solid rock-till, leaving the region of granite, it shortly struck Parr's Ridge, which divides the Val |