An earlier interest, yet intimately connected with the rebellion,
belongs to Harper's Ferry. From the car window you see the old
engine-house where John Brown fortified himself, and was wounded and
captured, while these wooded hills were bathed with October red in
1859. The breaches in the walls where he stood his siege are still
apparent, filled in with new brickwork. No single life could have been
so effectually paid out as his was, for he cemented in the cause of
the North the whole abolition sentiment of the civilized world, and
gained our army unnumbered recruits. Truly said the slaves when he
died, "Massa Brown is not buried: he is planted."

Of the site of all these storied ruins we can only say again and again
that it is beautiful. The rocky steeps that enclose the town have
a Scottish air, and traveled visitors, beholding them, are fain
to allude to the Trosachs; but the river that rolls through the
mountains, and has whirled them into a hollow as the potter turns
a vase, is continental in its character, and plunges through the
landscape with a swell of eddy and a breadth of muscle that are like
nothing amid the basking Scottish waters.

On an eminence immediately overlooking Harper's Ferry, and some four
hundred feet thereabove, is the enormous turtle-shaped rock, curiously
blocked up over a fissure, on which Jefferson once inscribed his
name. Chimney Rock, a detached column on the Shenandoah near by, is a
sixty-foot high natural tower, described by Jefferson in his _Notes on
Virginia_. Upon the precipice across the river, on the Maryland side,
the fancy of the tourist has discovered a figure of Napoleon: it forms
a bas-relief of stupendous proportions, having the broad cliff for
background, and clearly defining the hair, the Corsican profile and