After leaving the small mining village of Frostburg, which is about 1500 feet above the level of the sea, we continued to ascend and descend a succession of steep ridges till we came to the summit level, where the climate was sensibly colder, and the oaks and other trees still leafless. At Smithfield we crossed a river flowing westward, or towards the Monongahela and Gulf of Mexico, and soon afterwards passed the grave of General Braddock, and followed the line of his disastrous march towards Fort Duquesne, now Pittsburg.

At length we reached Laurel Hill, so called from its rhododendrons, the last of the great parallel ridges of the Alleghanies. From this height we looked down upon a splendid prospect, the low undulating country to the west, appearing spread out far and wide before us, and glowing with the rays of the setting sun. At our feet lay the small town of Union, its site being marked by a thin cloud of smoke, which pleased us by recalling to our minds a familiar feature in the English landscape, not seen in our tour through the regions where they burn anthracite, to the east of the Alleghanies.

After enjoying the view for some time we began to descend rapidly, and at every step saw the forest, so leafless and wintry a few hours before, recover its foliage, till the trees and the climate spoke again of spring.