Somewhere About Midnight, Along The Banks Of The Potomac, And, If I
Remember Right, Near The Town Of Hancock, The Cars Were Detained For
Three Hours.
A collision had occurred twelve hours before, causing an
extensive destruction of cars and freight, and heavy fragments of both
lay scattered over the track.
Had it not been for the skilful use of a
steam-engine in dragging off the ruins, we must have waited till the
sun was up. Two or three large fires were kindled with the ruins, so
that the scene of the disaster was entirely visible. And the light
shining in the midst of the thick darkness, near the river, with the
crowd of people standing around, was not very romantic, perhaps not
picturesque but it was quite novel; and the novelty of the scene
enabled us to bear with greater patience the gloomy delay.
The mountain scenery in plain sight of the traveller over the
Baltimore and Ohio road is more extensive and protracted, and I think
as beautiful, as on any road in the United States. There are as wild
places seen on the road across Tennessee from Nashville, and as
picturesque scenes on the Pennsylvania Central road perhaps the
White Mountains as seen from the Atlantic and St. Lawrence road
present a more sublime view but I think on the road I speak of,
there is more gorgeous mountain scenery than on any other. On such
routes one passes through a rude civilization. The settlements are
small and scattered, exhibiting here and there instances of thrift and
contentment, but generally the fields are small and the houses in
proportion.
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