The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1878-07-25
Old Times at White Sulphur Springs.
John Esten Cooke. in Harper's Magazine for


..- August
The owners of thousands of acres of
rice and cotton land and hundreds of
dusky Africans, from South Carolina,
Louisiana, and the whole range of
States touched by the heat of the tropics
the wealthy old nabobs'' of James
River and the shores of the Chesapeake,
the elegant pleasure-loving country gen.
tlemen of Maryland, and cilizens of
Baltimore all came to the 'White to
spend the summer months and indulge
in social intercourse. For at that time,
as at present, very considerable pro-
portion (perhaps large majority of
the visitors to the springs consisted Of
pleasure-see of ample
means and active employment for the
greater part of the year, who gave them
selves this summer holiday in the charm
ing mountain resort where the most
agreeable people from one whole section
of the country assembled yearly for en-
joyment. The days of railroads were
still in the future. Even the era of
stage coaches had not begun. The
planters from the skirts of the Gulf,
from the rice fields of South Carolina,
or the low grounds of James River,
made the long journey over the almost
impossible mountain roads in their
private carriages. These ancient vehi-
cles numbered along, drawn by six
horses, and driven by their portly black
Jehus, as important in their bearing as
their masters, while the trunks contain
ing the wardrobes of the ladies-heavy
and capacious, if not so monstrous as the
Saratoga trunk" of our own times
followed in wagons. Led horses for re-
lays or the pleasure of riding at the
watering-place came on under charge of
servants, of whom many accompanied
the march; for the planters we've per-
sons of large means, and stinted them
selves in nsthing. And so the little
cavalcade struggled along, wound over
the mountain, pierced the forest, and
came to the desired haven after jour
ney like that of emigrants across the
Western plains. What the old planters
| toiled thus to reach seemed quite I'M
worthy of so much time and trouble.
1t was a little valley lost like bird S
nest in the foliage of the western slope
of the Aileghanies, with spring bub-
| bling up under some oaks and maples,
blue mountains around, fresh stream
near, and a cluster of log cabins, suita-
BILE, one might have said, for the nm
kempt rustics and huntsmen of the
region, but quite absurd if regarded as
the dwelling place for months of some
of the most refined and luxurious society
of the South. And yet, these men and
women, accustomed to every comfort
and living lives Tapped in down, were
quite 'ntented with the "split-bot
toned" chairs, the plain beds, the pine
tables, and the rustic routine of the spot
1t offered them. indeed-much more
than their fine home mansions coulo
supply-health, high spirits, and al
atmosphere so delightfully."- cool anc
bracing even in the " dog days" that j
made life luxury. The tradition o
these honest old times is well preserved
The visitors were single family, ever,
body knowing every body else. Th
days were speLt in hunting, riding
whist, reading. and gay talk, the nighl
in sweet sleep. There was no stiffness
!, or ceremony whatever. The week
passed in round of enjoyment, and s
, strong a hold did this annual visit t
$ the White Sulphur take on the oil,
/. planter class, that to have been com
! PEELED to forego it for single seaso
would have been regarded by them as
$ real misfortune.