If to any of those who have such remembrances, as well as those who
have not, my story gives an hour of pleasure I shall be rewarded.



PROLOGUE


On June 16, 1716, Alexander Spotswood, Governor of the Colony of
Virginia, and a gallant soldier who had served under Marlborough in
the English wars, rode, at the head of a dauntless band of
cavaliers, down the quiet street of quaint old Williamsburg.

The adventurous spirits of this party of men urged them toward the
land of the setting sun, that unknown west far beyond the blue
crested mountains rising so grandly before them.

Months afterward they stood on the western range of the Great North
mountains towering above the picturesque Shenandoah Valley, and from
the summit of one of the loftiest peaks, where, until then, the foot
of a white man had never trod, they viewed the vast expanse of plain
and forest with glistening eyes. Returning to Williamsburg they told
of the wonderful richness of the newly discovered country and thus
opened the way for the venturesome pioneer who was destined to
overcome all difficulties and make a home in the western world.

But fifty years and more passed before a white man penetrated far
beyond the purple spires of those majestic mountains.