History of Western Maryland. J. Thomas Scharf
rock and tree clad, stands in silent majesty in the foreground; the Point of Rocks rises as a rocky bluff upon which to rest the eyes; the opposite shore waves away in vast, rounded swells of upland; the mighty river rolls in silvery brightness, losing itself in the mist-softened verdure of the far-off landscape, while all the features of hill, valley, woodland, and plain blend into the tender blue of the scarce bounded distance. Still gradually widening as it runs, and preserving a southeast direction, the river receives the Monocacy at the outlet of the delightful Frederick Valley. A wide, open tract enlarges the view of a luxuriant and picturesque region. The splendid viaduct for the canal over the Monocacy, the highly-cultivated hills on the borders of Montgomery County, and the triple crown of white sandstone of the Sugar-Loaf Mountain stand out as if sculptured monumental objects in the midst of the soft-toned landscape. The river now makes a wide bend in passing the hard-slate rocks, and then enters the brown hills of the new red sandstone formation. From this point the slopes gradually increase in steepness, and for a distance of eighteen miles rise and fall in long serpentine waves. About four miles from the beginning of this sandstone its extreme altitude is reached in rocks which rise abruptly to an altitude of more than one hundred feet above the river. A new surprise now bursts upon the senses. The summits of the ridge are made of uplifted crags and chimney-rocks, reaching far above the tops of the tallest trees, resting upon long lines of natural brownstone masonry, and decorated at every turn by tufts, plumes, and festoons of lovely plants, ferns, and creepers. Long wall-like ridges of this picturesque rook, set in a background of far-reaching foliage, appear at frequent intervals along both shores of the river, and here its waters are interrupted at three or four stages by islands which have settled in its path. After passing the new red sandstone a region in strong contrast with the former is reached. The uniform wall-like structure of the hills gives place to the bent, twisted, and upturned ridges of silvery gray or blackish rock. Tremendous forces have been at work here on a grand scale. For a distance of two miles the whole bed and surface of the country has been pressed together with such violent force that the former body of a huge mountain has been shattered into jointed fragments, in part carried away, and only its broken base left in the trough of the river. Throughout this distance rapids succeed each other in such quick succession that the bed of the stream is gradually lowered to a depth of eighty feet.
The Great Falls of the Potomac now appear at the lower end of this scene of ruin. A fall, thirty-five feet in height, now precipitates an enormous volume of water; this is divided into three principal cascades of uncommon grandeur, which, after boiling and chafing amidst the terrible rocks of the deep basin beneath, dash with uncontrollable violence through canons of their own digging, and sweep out in a broad torrent through the channel below.
On either shore of this great scene of desolation piles of shining rock thrown on end project high into the sky, and send off craggy ledges from the base of every towering peak. The jointed rock fills the whole region as far as the eye can reach, and the prospect is rendered still more wild and impressive by the thinly spread-out forests which straggle over the broken ledges. Nowhere else in the State, if indeed anywhere on the eastern side of the continent, can a more sublime and awe-inspiring spectacle be seen. It is of such an unusual type in this part of the United States, and so remarkable, that the mind is directed first to the region of the Rocky Mountains to find its counterpart in structure and sublimity. The remainder of this division of the river keeps on for fourteen miles, which take it to Georgetown. In this part of its course it has steadily forced its way through the granitic rocks, spread out into a deep channel nearly three-quarters of a mile wide, until, after gathering into a series of cascades at its lower falls, and gliding along over bowlders and broken stones, it finally becomes lost in the waters of the alluvial basin at the head of tide-water.
The most characteristic expressions of this river are in the freshness, vigor, and variety which it everywhere displays. It crosses the Appalachian region in a direction which brings it in direct contact with every geological formation that belongs to the eastern slope of the continent. It winds its way through them all, or only yields where harmony is indispensable, in conformity with unalterable physical conditions. As a continental force its career seems but of yesterday. The ages had been steadily preparing for its advent. Cool morn of a long geological day, succeeded by the glowing heat of an equally protracted noontide, had been followed by the long evening twilight of the carboniferous era. Heavy mists and long periods of rainfall had saturated the low hills and set rivulets to running in the ravines and bottoms. But now the mighty mountains are upfolded, an axis separating the basins of the east from those of the west is built high into the air, and cracks have opened in its flanks to let loose the imprisoned waters of the subterranean cavities. From the end of one of these the young giant arose and burst forth with all the energy of a new life. Pushing aside the deep soil which rested around, and forcing apart the bits of rock that stood in the way, it soon worked a deep path out and along the dark mountain-side. Plunging, butting, and leaping against the ridges standing in its path, a narrow trough was cut away up in the midst of the highest uplands, and then gradually working, forced its way down to the lower levels, until the sea was reached beyond the lower hills. As the ages have rolled on it has pursued its onward course in nearly the same direction, ever deepening its channel and spreading so wide that it has been at one time a roaring flood of more than two miles in breadth.
From the time of Washington to the present it has been recognized as the great avenue leading to the West, and its great usefulness in the future will depend upon the skill and judgment with which it is employed to facilitate commercial relations between the two sides of a continent.
CHAPTER II. THE ABORIGINES.
The Indians anciently occupying the vast expanse of country lying between the Atlantic and the Mississippi, and reaching from the St. Lawrence to the Gulf, have been classified by ethnologists, according to the affinities of language, into three great stocks. The first was the Algonquin stock, the most numerous and wide-spread of all, whose territories extended north as far as Hudson's Bay, and south to Pimlico Sound, and from the coast to the Mississippi, and in the northwest as far as Lake Winnipeg. The tribes of this stock were numerous. Among the most important were the great nation of Lenni Lenape, or Delawares, the Chippewas, Ottawas, Pottawatomies, Mohegans, and Shawnees. To them also belonged all the New England tribes, and most of those of Maryland and Virginia. South of the Algonquins, occupying part of North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and the Gulf region, was the Muscogee stock, comprising the Natchez, Uchees, and Creeks, forming the Muscogee Confederacy, and the Yamassees, Cherokees, Choctaws, Chickasaws, and Seminoles. In the midst of the Algonquin territories, thrust in like a wedge, its base resting on the St. Lawrence and Lake Huron, and its apex reaching North Carolina, was the powerful Iroquois stock, comprising the famous confederacy of the Five Nations, the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagoes, Cayugas, and Senecas. To the same stock, though not confederate with them, belonged the Hurons, the Susquehannoughs, and the Tuscaroras, which last tribe in 1712 joined the confederacy, which was thenceforth known as the Six Nations.
The Iroquois, though less numerous, were the bravest, the fiercest, and the most intelligent of all, and were the terror of the surrounding tribes. It is these who have furnished the typical Indian of romance; grave, taciturn, patient in suffering, untiring in action, defiant in death; faithful to friends, remorseless to foes; adroit in all the arts of the chase; cunning in strategy, surprises, and ambuscades; fierce and vindictively cruel in war. They possessed a higher degree of political and military genius than the rest; and their famous league or confederacy of the Five Nations was far more firmly organized than the loose Algonquin federations, and carried dismay as far west as Lake Superior, and as far south as North Carolina. The Iroquois were of a nobler and more martial appearance than their neighbors, and all early travelers were struck with the tall, sinewy forms, stern but commanding features, and majestic demeanor of their warriors. Those whose personal knowledge of the Indian is confined to the degraded remnants still lingering in the North, or the wretched savages of the far West, can form no idea of a Mohawk or Cayuga chief as he was seen two hundred years ago. Native tradition assigns the origin of this people to the far Northwest, whence they removed to the upper waters of the St. Lawrence and the mountainous region about the Saranac Lakes. As they increased in numbers they spread over the high forest country in Northern and Middle New York, where game was