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 I^sT O T I C E . 
 
 The Messrs. Beach, for the purpose of preventing anno3'ance and nu- 
 necessary expense to visitors, have established a line of Coaches between 
 Catskill Landing and the Mountain House, some of v/hich will always be 
 found in waiting at the Landing ui)on the arrival of the Day-boats and the 
 Trains of the Hudson River Rail-Road. * 
 
 The Messrs. Beach have also established a Steam FerrTj between Catskill 
 Landing and Oak Hill Station, running in connection with the Hudson 
 River Rail-Road. 
 
 Visitors coming bij the Hndson Eiver Ilail-Eoad luiU sfo]) at Oak Hill 
 Station, op2JOsitc Catslcill Landing. 
 
 Their Agent will be found at all times, at the Steamboat Landing, and 
 at the Hudson River Rail-Road Station, Oak Hill, to assist passengers, take 
 charge of baggage, &c. 
 
C N T K N T 8 
 
 Kxiivu-l Iron! Cooper's P:o)i-ers, ......... 
 
 Uip Van Winkle — a i)osthumous writing of Diedrich Knickerbocker, 
 Kniirise upon the Catskills, .......... 
 
 Kxlract from the " Ollapodiana " papers of Willis Gaylord Clark, 
 
 Kxtract from "Impressions of America, during 1833-35," — by Tyrone Power, Esq. 
 
 The Catskill Mountains— by N. P. Willis, 
 
 Catskill Mountain House — by Park Benjamin, 
 
 Pinii Orchard House, from "Retrospect of Western Travel," — by Miss Martineau, 
 
 The Catterskill Falls^— by William C. Bryant, . 
 
 The Fourth at Pine Orchard— by Mrs. Ellett, 
 
 A September Trip to Catskill — from the American Monthly Magazine, 1737, 
 
 Catskill Mountain House, 
 
 Winter Scene on the Catskills, 
 
 The Fails of Kaaterskill in Winter— by Thomas Cole, .... 
 
 Rxtr:icts from " A Visit to the Catskills," — published in the Atlantic Souvenir/l828, 
 
 P«g<8 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 12 
 12 
 16 
 17 
 18 
 • 19 
 22 
 23 
 28 
 3] 
 34 
 36 
 38 
 
THE SCENERY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE CATSKILL MOUNTAINS 
 
 EXTRACT FROM COOPER'S "PIONEERS," 
 
 Vol. 2, pp. 105-109. 
 
 ■" 1 have travelled the woods for fifty-tliree 
 years," said Leather-Stocking, " and have made 
 thera my home for more than forty, and I can 
 say that I have met but one place that was 
 more to my liking ; and that was only to eye- 
 sight, and not for hunting or fishing." 
 
 "And where was that?" asked Edwards. 
 
 " Wliere ! why up on the Catskills. I used 
 often to go up into the mountains after wolves' 
 skins, and bears ; once tliey brought me to get 
 thera a stuffed painter; and so I often went. 
 There's a place in them hills that I used to 
 climb to when I wanted to see the carr3nngs on 
 of the world, that would well pay any man for 
 a barked shin or a torn moccasin. You know 
 the Catskills, lad, for you must have seen thera 
 or. your left, as you followed the river up from 
 York, looking as blue as a piece of clear sky, 
 and holding the clouds on their tops, as the 
 smoke curls over the head of an Indian chief at 
 a council iii'e. Well, there's the High-peak and 
 the Round-top, which lay back, like a father 
 nnd mother among their children, seeing they 
 are far above all the other hills. But the place 
 1 mean is next to the river, where one of the 
 ridges juts out a little from the rest, and v/here 
 the rocks fall for the best part of a thousand 
 feet, so much up am. do\vn, that a man standing 
 on tiieir edges is fooi enough to think he can 
 jump from top to bottom." 
 
 I " What see you when you get there ?" ask- 
 ed Edwards. 
 
 " Creation !" s^d Natty, dropping the end of 
 his rod into the water, and sweeping one hand 
 around him in a circle, " all creation, lad. I was 
 oil that hill when Vaughan burnt Sopus, in the 
 isst war, and I seen the vessels come out 
 ^" the Highlands as plainly as I can see that 
 
 lime-scow rowing mto the Susquehanna, though 
 one was twenty times further from me than the 
 other. The river was in sight for seventy miles 
 under my feet, looking like a curled shaving, 
 though it was eight long miles to its banl^s. I 
 saw the hills in the Hampshire gi-ants, the high 
 lands of the river, and all that God had done or 
 man could do, as far as the eye could reach — 
 you know that the Indians named me for my 
 sight, lad — and from the flat on the top of that 
 mountain, I have often found the place where 
 Albany stands ; and as for Sopus ! the day the 
 royal troops burnt the town, the smoke seemed 
 so nigh that I thought I could hear the screeches 
 of the women." , 
 
 " It must have been worth the toil to meet 
 with such a glorious view.'-' 
 
 " If being the best part of a mile in the air, 
 and having men s f;irms and houses at your feet, 
 with rivers looking like ribands, and mountains 
 bigger than the ' Vision ' seeming to be hay- 
 stacks of green grass under you, gives any 
 satislaction to a man, I can recommend the spot. 
 When I first came into the woods to live, I used 
 to have weak spells, and I felt lonesome ; and 
 then I would go into the Catskills and spend a 
 few days on that liill, to look at the ways of 
 man ; but it's now many a year since I felt any 
 such longings, and I'm getting too old for these 
 rugged rocks. But tliere's a place, a short two 
 miles back of that very liill, that in late times 
 I relished better than the mountains; for it was 
 more kivered by the trees, and more nateral." 
 
 "!ftnd where was that?" inquired Edwards, 
 whose curiosity was strongly excited by the 
 simple description of the hunter. 
 
 " Why, there's a fall in the hills, where the 
 water ol' two little oonds t^at lie neai each 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 otner breaks out of their bounds, and runs over 
 the rocks into the valley. The stream is. may- 
 be, such a one as would turn a mill, if so useless 
 a thing was wanted in the wlderness. But the 
 hand that made thai ' Leap ' never made a mill ! 
 There the water comes crooking and winding 
 among the rocks, first so slow that a trout 
 could swim m it, and then starting and running- 
 just like any creater that wanted to make a far 
 spring, till it gets to where the mountain divides 
 like the cleft hoof of a deer, leaving a deep hol- 
 low for the brook to tumble into. The first 
 pitch is nigh two hundred feet, and the water 
 looks like flakes of driven snow afore it touches 
 the bottom; and there the stream gathers itself 
 together again for a new start, and may be flut- 
 ters over fifty feet of flat rock, before it falls 
 for another hundred, when it jumps about from 
 shelf to shelf, first turning this-a-way and then 
 turning that-a-way, striving to get out of tlie hol- 
 low, till it finally comes to the plain." 
 
 " I have never heard of this spot before !" ex- 
 claimed Edwards ; " it is not mentioned in the 
 books." 
 
 " I never read a book in my life,"' said Leather- 
 Stocking ; and how should man who has lived 
 in towns and schools know any tiling about the 
 wonders of the woods ! No, no, lad ; there has 
 that little strea>n of water been playing among 
 them hills since He made the world, and not a 
 dozen white men have ever laid eyes upon it 
 The rock sweeps \^e mason-work, in a half- 
 
 round, on both sides of the fail, and shelves 
 ever the bottom for fifty feet; so that when I've 
 been sitting at the foot of the first picch, and my 
 hounds have run into the caverns behind the 
 sheet of water, tliey've looked no bigger than 
 so many rabbits. To my judgment, lad, it's the 
 best piece of work that Tve met with in the 
 woods ; and none know how often the hand of 
 God is seen in a wilderness, hut them that rove 
 it for a man's life." 
 
 " What becomes of the water 1 in which direc- 
 tion does it run? is it a tributary of the Delaware?" 
 
 " Anan !" said Natty. 
 
 " Does the water run into the Delaware ?" 
 
 " No, no it's a drop for the old Hudson : and 
 a merry time it has till it gets down off the 
 mountain. I've sat on the shelving rock many 
 a long hour, boy, and watched the bubbles as 
 they shot by me, and thought how long it 
 would be before that very water which seemed 
 made for the wilderness, would be under the 
 bottom of a vessel, and tossing in the salt sea. 
 It is a spot to make a man solemnise. You 
 can see right down into the valley that lies to 
 the east of tlie High-peak, where, in the fall of 
 tlie year, thousands of acres of woods are before 
 your eyes, in tiie deep hollow, and along tlie side 
 of tlie mountain, painted like ten thousand rain- 
 bows, by no hand of man, though not without 
 the ordering of God's providence." 
 
 " Why you are eloquent, Leatlier-Stocking * 
 exclaimed the youth. 
 
 From Irvmg's Sketch Book, Vol. 1. p. 45. 
 
 RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER. 
 
 By Woden, God of Saxons, 
 
 From whence comes Wensday, that Is Wodeii?diiy 
 
 Tnith is a thing that ever I will keep 
 
 Unto ihyllce day in which I creep into 
 
 My sepulchre — Caniori^,-;. 
 
 Whoever has made a voyage up the H'-dson 
 must remember the Kajitskill mountains. They 
 are a dismembered branch of the great Appala- 
 chian family, and are seen away to the west of 
 the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lord- 
 ing it over the surrounding country. Every 
 change of season, every change of weather, in- 
 
 deed, every hour of the day, produces some 
 change in the magic hues and shapes of these 
 mountains ; and they are regarded by all the 
 good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. 
 When the \\'eather is fair and settled, they are 
 clothed in blue and purple, and prmt their bold 
 outlines on the clear evening sky; but some- 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 times, wlien tlie rest of tlie landscape is cloud- 
 less, they will gather a hood of gra}^ vapors 
 about their summits, wliicli, in tlie last rays of 
 the setting sun will glow and light up like a, 
 crown of glory. ' 
 
 At the foot of these fairy mountains the < 
 voyager may have descried the light smoke i 
 curling up from a village, whose shingle roofs j 
 gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints \ 
 of the upland melt away into the fresh green 
 of the nearer landscape. It is a little village of 
 great antiquity, having been founded by some 
 of the Dutch colonists in the early times of the 
 province, j^st about the begimiing of the go- 
 vernment of the good Peter Stuy\'esant, (may 
 he rest in peace !) and there were some of the 
 houses of the original settlers standing within a 
 few years, built of small yellow bricks brought 
 from Holland, having latticed windows and ga- 
 ble fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. 
 
 In that same village, and in one of these 
 very houses, (which, to tell the precise truth, 
 was sadly time-worn and weatlier-beaten.) there 
 lived many years since, while the country was 
 yet a province of Great Britain, a simple good- 
 natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. 
 He was a descendant of the Van Winkles 
 who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days 
 of Peter StuyvesSnt, and accompanied him to 
 the siege of Christina. He inherited, however, 
 but little of the martial character of his ances- 
 tors. I have observed that he was a simple 
 good-natured man ; he was moreover a kind 
 neighbor, and an obedient hen-pecked husband. 
 Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be 
 owing that meekness of spirit which gained him 
 such universal popularity; for those men are 
 most apt to be obsequious -and conciliating 
 abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews 
 at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are render- 
 ed pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of 
 domestic tribulation, and a curtain lecture is 
 worth all the sermons in the world for teaching 
 the virtues of patience and long-suffering. A 
 termag'ant wife may, therefore, in some respects 
 be considered a tolerable blessing; and if so, 
 Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. 
 
 Certain it is, that he was a great favorite 
 among all the good wives of tlie village, who, as 
 usual with the amiable sex, took his part in all 
 family squabbles, and never failed, whenever 
 Jhey talked those matters over in their evening 
 gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van 
 Winkle. The childi-en of the village, too, would 
 shout with joy whesieve* he approached. He 
 
 assisted at their sports, )nade their playthings, 
 taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and 
 told them long stories of ghosts, witches, and 
 Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the 
 village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, 
 hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, 
 and playing a thousand tricks on him with impu- 
 nity ; and not a dog would bark at him through- 
 out the neighborhood. 
 
 The great error in Rip's composition was an 
 insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable 
 labor. It could not be from want of assiduity 
 or perseverance ; for he would set on a wet rock 
 with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's 
 lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even 
 though he should not be encouraged by a single 
 nibble. He would carry a fowling-piece on his 
 shoulder for hours together, trudging through 
 woods and swamps, and up hill and down dale, 
 to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He 
 would never refuse to assist a neighbor even 
 in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at 
 all country frolics for husking Indian corn, or 
 building stone fences. The women of the vil- 
 lage, too, used to employ him to run their er- 
 rands, and to do such little odd jobs as their less 
 obliging husbands wou'.d not do for them ; — in 
 a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody's 
 business but his own;' tut as to doing family 
 duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it 
 impossible. 
 
 In fiict he declared it was of no use to work 
 on his farm; it w^as the most pe.stilent little 
 piece of ground in the whole country; every 
 thing about it went wrong, and would go wrong 
 in spite of him. His fences were continually 
 falling to pieces ; his cow would either go astray 
 or get among the cabbages ; weeds were sure 
 to grow quicker in his fields than any where 
 else ; ihe rain always made a point of setting in 
 just as he had some out-door work to do ; so 
 that his patrimonial estate had dwindled away 
 under his management, acre by acre, until there 
 was little more left than a mere patch of Indian 
 corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst condi- 
 tioned farm in the neighborhood. 
 
 His children, too, were as ragged and wild 
 as if they belonged to nobody. His son Rip, 
 an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promis- 
 ed to inherit the habits, with the old clothes of 
 his father. He was generally seen trooping 
 like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a 
 pair of his father's cast-off galligaskins, which 
 he had much ado to hold up with one hand, as a 
 fine lady does her train in bad weather. 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 Rip Van Wiakle, however, was one of those 
 happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, 
 who take the world easy, eat wliite bread or 
 brown, whichever can be got with least thought 
 or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny 
 than work for a pound. If left to himself, he 
 would have whistled life away in perfect con- 
 tentment ; but his wife kept continually dinning 
 in his ears about liis idleness, his carelessness, 
 and the ruin he was bringing on his family. 
 
 Morning, noon and night, her tongue was 
 incessantly going, and every thing he said or 
 did was sure to produce a torrent of household 
 eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying 
 to all lectures of the kind, and that, by frequent 
 use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his 
 shoulders, sliook his head, cast up his eyes, but 
 said nothing. This, however, always provoked 
 a fresh volley from his wife, so that he was fain 
 to draw ofl" his forces, and take to the outside 
 of the house — ^the only side which, in truth, 
 belongs to a henpecked husband. 
 
 Rip's sole domestic adherent was liis dog 
 Wolf, who was as much henpecked as his mas- 
 ter ; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as 
 companions in idleness, and even looked upon 
 Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his mas- 
 ter's going so often astray. True it is, in all points 
 of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he v/as as 
 courageous an animal as ever scoured the 
 woods — ^but what courage can withstand the 
 everduring and all-besetting terrors of a wo- 
 man's tongue ? The moment Wolf entered 
 the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the 
 ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked 
 about with a gallows air, casting many a side- 
 long glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the 
 least flourish of a broomstick or ladle he would 
 fly to the door with yelping precipitation. 
 
 Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van 
 Winkle, as years of matrimony rolled on : a 
 tart temper ne^'er mellows with age, and a sharp 
 tongue is the only edge tool that grows keener 
 with constant use. ' For a long while he used 
 to console himself, when driven from home, by 
 frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the 
 sages, philosophers, and other idle personages 
 of the village, which held its sessions on a 
 bench before a small inn, designated by a rubi- 
 cund portrait of his majesty George the Third. 
 Here they used to sit in tlie shade, of a long 
 lazy summer's day, talking listlessly over village 
 gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about 
 nothing. But it would have been worth any 
 statesman's money to have heard the profound 
 
 discussions whicf'i sometimes took place, when 
 by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands 
 from some passmg traveller. How solemnly 
 they would Hsteu to the contents, as drawled by 
 Derrick Van Bucimel, the schoolmaster, a dap- 
 per learned little man, who was not to be 
 daunted by the n ost gigantic word in the dic- 
 tionary ; and hovr sagely they would deliberate 
 upon pubhc events some months after they had 
 taken place. 
 
 The opinions .if this junto were completely 
 controlled by Nii holas Vedder, a patriarch of 
 the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door 
 of which he took his seat from morning till 
 night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun, 
 and keep in the sh.'ide of a large tree ; so that 
 the neighbors coul i tell the hour by his move- 
 ments ajj accurately as by a sun-dial. It is true, 
 he was rarely heta-d to speak, but smoked his 
 pipe incessantly. His adherants, liowever, (for 
 every great man has his adherents,) perfectly 
 understood him, and knew how to gather his 
 opinions. Wlien any thing that was read or 
 related displeased him, he was observed to 
 smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth 
 short, frequent ',nd angry pufts ; but when 
 pleaded, he wo'.> d inhale the smoke slowly and 
 tranquilly, an^ emit it in light and placid clouds, 
 and sometin.'.s taking the pipe from his mouth, 
 and letting the fragrant v«jpor curl about his 
 nose, would gravely nod his head in token of 
 perfect approbation. 
 
 From even this strong hold the unlucky Rip 
 was at length routed by his termagant wife, who 
 would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity 
 of the assemblage, and call the members all to 
 nought; nor was tliat august personage, Ni- 
 cholas Vedder hirjiself, sacred from the daring 
 tongue of this terrible virago, who cliarged him 
 outright with encouraging her husband in habits 
 of idleness. 
 
 Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to dis. 
 pair, and his only alternative to escape from the 
 labor of the farm and the clamor of his wife, 
 was to take gun in hand, and stroll away into 
 the woods. Here he would sometimes seat 
 himself at the foot of a tree, and share the con- 
 tents of his wallet with Wolf, with wliom he 
 sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in persecu- 
 tion. " Poor Wolf," he would say, " thy unstress 
 leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, 
 my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a 
 friend to stand by thee!" Wolf would wag 
 his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, 
 and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 reciprocated tlie sentiment with all his heart. 
 In a long ramble of the kind, on a fine au- 
 tumnal day, Rip had unconsciously scrambled 
 to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill 
 mountains. He was after his favorite sport of 
 equirrel-shooting, and the still solitudes had 
 echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his 
 gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late 
 in the afternoon, on a green knoll covered with 
 mount^nin herbage, that cro-vvned the brow of a 
 precipice. From an opening between the trees 
 he could overlook all the lower country for 
 many a mile of rich woodland. Ho saw at a 
 distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, 
 moving on its silent but majestic course, with 
 the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a 
 lagging bark here and there sleeping on its 
 glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the 
 blue highlands. 
 
 On the other side he looked down into a 
 deep mountain glen, wild, lonely and shagged, 
 the bottom filled with fragments from the im- 
 pending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflect- 
 ed rays of the setting sun.* For some time Rip 
 lay musing on this scene ; evening was gradu- 
 ally advancing ; the mountains began to throw 
 iheir long blue shadows over the valleys; he 
 sav/ that it would be dark long before he could 
 reach the village ; and he heaved a heavy sigh 
 when he thought of encountering the terrors of 
 Dame Van Winkle. 
 
 As he was about to descend he heard a 
 voice from a distance, hallooing, " Rip Van 
 Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle !" He looked around 
 but could see nothing but a crow winging its 
 solitary flight across the mountain. He thought 
 his fancy must have deceived him, and turned 
 again to descend, when he heard the same cry 
 ring through the still evening air ; " Rip Van 
 Winkle ! Rip Van Winlcle I" — at the same time 
 Wolf bristled up his back, and giving a low 
 growl, skulked to his master's side, looking 
 fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a 
 vague apprehension stealing over him : he look- 
 ed an.xiously in the same direction, and perceived 
 a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, 
 and bending under the weight of something he 
 carried on his back. He was surprised to see 
 any human being in this lonely and unfrequent- 
 ed place, but supposing it to be some one of the 
 neighborhood in need of his assistance, he has. 
 tened down to yield it. 
 
 * The glen here described is passed by the visitor to the 
 Mountain House during the first mile of ascent in climbing 
 the mountain. It begins near the gate and ends at the 
 " Shanty." 
 
 On nearer approach, he was still more sur- 
 prised at the singularity of the stranger's appear- 
 ance. He was a short square-built old fellow, 
 with thick brushy hair, and a grizzled beard. 
 His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion — a 
 cloth jerkin strapped round the waist — several 
 pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, 
 decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, 
 and bunches at the knees. He bore on his 
 shoulders a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, 
 and made signs for Rip to approach and assisi 
 him with the load. Though rather shy and 
 distrustful of this new acquaintance. Rip com- 
 plied with his usual alacrity, and mutually re- 
 lieving each other, they clambered up a narrow 
 gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain 
 torrent. As they ascended Rip every now and 
 then heard long rolling peals, like distant thun- 
 der, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, 
 or rather cleft between lofty rocks, toward 
 which their rugged path conducted. He paused 
 for an instant, but supposing it to be the mutter- 
 ing of one of those transient thunder-showers 
 which often take place in mountain heights, he 
 proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they 
 came to a hollow, like a small amphitheatre, 
 surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over 
 the banks of which impending trees shot their 
 branches, so that you only caught glimpses of 
 the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. 
 During the whole time, Rip and his companion 
 had labored on in silence ; for though the for- 
 mer marvelled greatly what could be the object 
 of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild moun- 
 tain, yet there was something strange and in- 
 comprehensible about the unknovv^n, that inspir- 
 ed awe, and checked familiarity. 
 
 On entering the amphitheatre new objects 
 of wonder presented themselves. On a level 
 spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking 
 personages playing at nine-pins. They were 
 dressed in a quaint outlandish fashion : some 
 wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long 
 knives m their belts, and most of them had 
 enormous breeches, of similar style with that of 
 the guide's. Their visages, too, were peculiar ; 
 one had a large head, broad ftice, and small pig- 
 gish eyes ; the face of another seemed to con- 
 sist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a 
 white sugar-loaf hat, set ofl" with a little red 
 cock's tail. They all had beards, of various 
 shapes and colors. There was one who seem- 
 ed to be the commander. He was a stout old 
 gentleman, with a weather-beaten countenance ; 
 he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, 
 
8 
 
 RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 hlgh-crowned hat and featlier, rtd stockings, 
 and liigh-heeled shoes with roses in them. The 
 whole group remindod Rip of the figures in an 
 old Flemish painting, in the parlor of Dominie 
 Van Schaick, the village parson, and which had 
 been brought over from Holland at the time of 
 the settlement. 
 
 What seemed particularly odd to Rip, was, 
 that thougli these folks were evidently amusing 
 themselves, yet they maintained the gravest 
 faces, the most mysterious silence, and were 
 withal the most melanclioly party of pleasure 
 he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted 
 the stillness of the scene but the noise of the 
 balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed 
 along the mountains like rumbling peals of 
 thunder. 
 
 As Rip and his companion approached them 
 they suddenly desisted from their play, and star- 
 ed at him with such a fixed statue-like gaze, 
 and such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre counte- 
 nances, that his heart turned within him, and 
 his knees smote together. His companion now 
 emptied the contents of the keg into large fla- 
 gons, and made signs to him to wait upon tlie 
 company. He obeyed with fear and trembling ; 
 they quaffed the liquor in profound silence, and 
 then returned to their game. 
 
 By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension sub- 
 sided. He even ventured, when no eye was 
 fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he 
 found had much of the flavor of excellent Hol- 
 lands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and 
 was soon temjited to repeat the draught. One 
 taste provoked another, and he reiterated his 
 visits to the llagon so often, that at length his 
 senses were overpowered, liis eyes swam in his 
 head, his iiead gradually declined, and he fell 
 into a deep sleep. 
 
 On waking he found himself on the green 
 knoll from whence he had first seen the old man 
 of the glen. He rubbed his eyes — it was a 
 bright sunny morning. The birds were hopping 
 and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle 
 was wheeling aloft and breasting the pure 
 mountain breeze. " Surely," thought Kip, " I 
 have not slept here all night." He recalled the 
 occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange 
 man with the keg of liquor — the mountain ravine 
 . — the wild retreat among the rocks — the wo-be- 
 gone party at nine-pins — the flagon — " Oh ! that 
 wicked flagon !" thought Rip, " what excuse 
 shall I make to Dame Van Winkle V 
 
 He looked round for his gun, but in place of 
 nhe clean well-oiled fowling piece, he found an 
 
 old fire-lock Jying by him, the barrel encruste<i 
 with rust, the lock falling ofi", and the stock 
 worm eaten. He now suspected that the grave 
 roysters of the mountain had put a trick upon 
 him, and having dosed him with liquor, had 
 robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disap- 
 peared, but he might have strayed away after a 
 squirrel or partridge. He whistled after liim. 
 and shouted his name, but all in vain ; the echoes 
 repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog waa 
 to be seen. 
 
 He determined to revisit the scene of the 
 last evening's gambol, and if he met with any 
 of the party, to demand his dog and gun. A3 
 he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the 
 joints, and wanting in his usual activity. " The'Je 
 mountain beds do not agree with me," thought 
 Rip, " and if this frolic sliould lay me up with a 
 fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time 
 with Dame Van Winkle." With some difficulty 
 he got down into the glen ; he found the gully 
 up which he and his companion had ascended 
 the preceding evening ; but to his astonishment 
 a mountain stream was now foaming down it, 
 leaping from rock to rock, and filling the glen 
 with babbling murmurs. He, however, made 
 shift to scramble up its sides, working his toil- 
 some way through thickets of birch, sassafras, 
 and v.'itcu-hazel ; and sometimes tripped up o.' 
 entangled by the wild grape vines that twisteo 
 their coils and tendrils from tree to tree, and 
 spread a kind of network in his path. 
 
 At length he reached to where the ravine 
 had opened through the cliflTs to the amphithea- 
 tre ; but no traces of such opening remained 
 The rocks presented a high impenetrable wall 
 over which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet 
 of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep 
 basin, black from the shadows of the surround- 
 ing forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought 
 to a stand. He again called and whistled after 
 his dog : he was only answered by the cawing 
 of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in air 
 about a dry tree that overhung a sunny preci- 
 pice ; and who, secure in their elevation, seem- 
 ed to look down and scoff at the poor man's 
 perplexities. What was to be done ? The 
 morning was passing away, and Rip felt famish- 
 ed for want of his breakfast. He grieved to 
 give up his dog and gun ; he dreaded to meet 
 his wife ; but it would not do to starve among 
 the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered 
 the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trou- 
 ble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward. 
 
 As he approached the village he met a num- 
 
RIP VAN WIXKLE. 
 
 9 
 
 oer of people, but none whom he knew, which 
 somewhat surprised him, for be had thought him- 
 self acquainted with every one in the country 
 round. Their dress, too, was of a dilferent 
 fashion from that to which he was accustom- 
 ed. They all stared at him with equal marks of 
 surprise, and whenever they cast eyes upon 
 him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant 
 recurrence of this gesture induced Rip, involun- 
 tarily, to do the same, when, to his astonishment, 
 he found his beard iiad grown a foot long ! 
 
 He had now entered the skirts of the village. 
 A troop of strange children ran at his heels, 
 hooting after him, and pointing at his grey beard. 
 The dogs, too, not one of which he recognised 
 for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he 
 passed. The very village was altered: it was 
 larger and more populous. There were rows of 
 houses which he Iiad never seen before, and thoie 
 which ]-\i been his t^imiliar haunts had disap- 
 peared. Strange names were over the doors — 
 strange taces at the windows — every tiling was 
 strange. His mind now misgave him ; he began 
 to doubt whether both he and the world around 
 him were not bewitched. Surely this was his 
 native village, which he had left but a day before. 
 There stood the Kaatskill mountains — there ran 
 the silver Hudson at a distance — there was every 
 hill and dale precisely as it had always been — 
 Rip was sorely perplexed ; " That flagon last night," 
 thought he, '• has addled my poor head sadly ! 
 
 It was with some ditiiculty that he found tlie 
 way to his own house, whicli he approached with 
 silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the 
 shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the 
 house gone to decay — ^the roof fallen in, the win- 
 dows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A 
 half-starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was 
 skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but 
 the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. 
 This was an unkind cut indeed. — '• My very dog," 
 sighed poor Rip, '• has forgotten me !" 
 
 He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, 
 Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. 
 It was empty, forlorn, and apparently abandon- 
 ed. This desolateness overcame all his connubial 
 fears — he called loudly for his wife and children 
 —the lonely chambers rang for a moment with his 
 oice, and then all again was silence. 
 
 He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old 
 esort, the village inn — but it too was gone. A 
 large rickety wooden building stood in its place, 
 with great gaping windows, some of them broken, 
 and mended v/ith old hats and petticoats, and 
 ov^er the door was painted, " The Union Hotel, by 
 
 J<)nathan Doolittle." Instead of the great tree 
 that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of 
 yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, 
 with something on the top that looked lil^ a red 
 nigiit-cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, oa 
 which was a singular assemblage of stars and 
 stripes — all this was strange and incomprehensi- 
 ble. He recognised on the sign, however, the 
 ruby face of King George, under which he had 
 smoked so many a peaceful pipe, but even this 
 was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat 
 was changed for one of blue and buft", a sword 
 was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the 
 iiead was decorated with a cocked hat, and un- 
 derneath was painted in large characters, Gejje- 
 
 KAL WASfflNGTON. 
 
 There was, as tisual, a crowd of folk about 
 the door, but none that Rip recollected. The 
 very ciiaracter of the people seemed changed. 
 There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone 
 about it, instead of the accustomed phlem and 
 drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the 
 sage Nicholas Veddcr, with his broad face, double 
 chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of to- 
 bacco smoke, instead of idle speeches; or Van 
 Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the con- 
 tents of an ancient newspaper. In place of these, 
 a lean bilious-looking fellow, vrith his pockets 
 full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently 
 about rights of citizens — election — members of 
 Congress — libert}' — Bunker's hill — heroes of se- 
 venty-six — and other words that "^vere a perfect 
 Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. 
 
 The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled 
 beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, 
 and the army of women and children that had 
 gathered at his heels, soon attracted the atten- 
 tion of the tavern politicians. The)'' crowded 
 round him, eyeing iiim from head to foot, with 
 great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, 
 and drawing him partly aside, inquired, " on 
 which side he voted ?" Rip stared in vacant stu- 
 pidity. Another short but busy little fellow pul- 
 led him by the arm, and rising on tiptoe, inquir- 
 ed in his ear, " whether he was Federal or Demo- 
 crat." Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend 
 the question ; when a knowing, self-important old 
 gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way 
 through the crowd, putting them to the right and 
 left with his elbows as he passed, and planting 
 himself before Van Winkle, with one arm a-kim- 
 bo, the other lesting on his cane, his keen eyes 
 and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very 
 soul, demanded in austere tone, " what broughl 
 him to the election with a gun on his shoulder 
 
10 
 
 RIP VAN WIXKLK 
 
 and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to 
 breed a riot in the village ?" 
 
 " Alas ! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dis- 
 mayed " 1 am a poor quiet man, a native of the 
 place, and a loyal subject of the King, God bless 
 him!" 
 
 Here a general shout burst from the bystand- 
 ers — " A tory ! a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle 
 nim! away with him!" It was with great difficul- 
 ty that the self-important man in tlie cocked hat 
 restored order; and having assumed a tenfold 
 austerity of brow, demanded again of the un- 
 known culprit, what he came there for, and whom 
 he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured 
 him that he meant no harm, but merely came 
 there in search of some of his neighbors, who 
 used to keep about tlie tavern. 
 
 " Well — who are they ? — name them," 
 
 Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquir- 
 ed, " Wliere's Nicholas Vedder ?" 
 
 There was a silence for a little while, when 
 an old man replied, in a thin piping voice, " Ni- 
 cholas Vedder? why he is dead and gone these 
 eighteen years ! There was a wooden tomb-stone 
 in the cliurch-yard that used to tell all about him, 
 but tliat's rotten and gone too." 
 
 " Where's Brom Butcher?" 
 
 " Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning 
 of the war; some say he was killed at the storm- 
 ing of Stoney-Point — others say he was drowned 
 in the squall, at the foot of Antony's Nose. I 
 don't know — h» never came back again." 
 
 "Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?" 
 
 " He went off to the wars too, Was a great 
 militia general, and is now in CongTess." 
 
 Rip's iieart died away at hearing of these sad 
 changes in his home and friends, and finding hinv 
 self thus alone in the world. Every answer puz- 
 zled him, too, by treating of such enormous 
 lapses of time, and of matters which he could 
 not understand ; war — Congress — Stoney-Point ! 
 — he bad no courage to ask after any more 
 friends, but cried out in despair, "Does nobody 
 here know Rip Van Winkle ?" 
 
 "Oil, Rip Van Winkle!" exclaimed two or 
 ■three, " Oh, to be sure ! that's Rip Van Winkle 
 S'onder, leaning against the tree." 
 
 Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart 
 of himself as he went up the mountain; appa- 
 rently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor 
 felloAv was now completely confounded. He 
 doubted his own identity, and whether he was 
 himself or another man. In the midst of his be- 
 wilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded 
 who he was, and what was his name ? 
 
 " God knows," exclaimed he at his wit's end 
 " Tni not myself— I'm somebody else — that's me 
 yonder — no — that's somebody else, got into my 
 shoes— I was myself last night, but I fell asleejp 
 on the mountain, and they've changed my o-un, 
 and every thing's changed, and I'm changed, and 
 I can't tell what's my name, or who I am !" 
 
 The by-standers began now to look at each 
 other, nod, wink significantly, and tap their fin- 
 gers against their foreheads. There was a whisper, 
 also, about securing the gun, and keeping the 
 old fellow from doing mischief; at the very sug- 
 gestion of which, the self-important man with the 
 cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At 
 this critical moment a fresh comely woman pass- 
 ed through the throng to get a peep at the gray- 
 bearded man. She had a chubby child in her 
 arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to 
 cry. " Hush, Rip," cried she, " hush, you little 
 fool ; the old man won't hurt you." The name of 
 the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her 
 voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his 
 mind. " What is your name, my good woman 1" 
 asked he. 
 
 " Judith Gardenier." 
 
 " And your father's name ?" 
 
 " Ah, poor man, his name was Rip Van Winlde ; 
 it's twenty years since he went away from home 
 with his gun, and never has been heard of since 
 — his dog came home without hun ; but whether 
 he shot himself, or was carried away by the In- 
 dians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little 
 girl." 
 
 Rip had but one question more to ask ; but 
 he put it with a faltering voice : 
 
 " Where's your mother?" 
 
 Oh, she too had died but a short tince since : 
 she broke a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a 
 New-England pedlar. 
 
 There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this 
 intelligence. The honest man could contain him- 
 self no longer. He caught his daughter and her 
 
 child in his arms. " I am your father !" cried he 
 
 "Young Rip Van Winkle once — old Rip Van 
 Winkle now! — Does nobody know poor Rip 
 Van Winkle !" 
 
 All stood amazed, until an old woman, tot- 
 tering out from among the crowd, put her hand 
 to her brow, and peering under it in his face for 
 a moment, exclaimed, "Sure enough! it is Rip 
 Van Winkle — it is himself. Welcome home again, 
 old neighbor — Why, v/here have you been these 
 twenty long years ?" 
 
 Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twen. 
 ty years had been to liim but as one night. Th(r 
 
RIP VAX WIMCLE. 
 
 11 
 
 'leiglibors shired whi/ii they he;ira it; some were 
 seen to wink at each other, ami put tlieir tongues 
 in their cheeks; and tlie self-important man in 
 the cocked hat, who, wlien the ahirm was over, 
 had returned to the tield, screwed down tlie cor- 
 ners of his mouth, and shook his head — upon 
 which there was a ger^eral shaking of the liead 
 throughout the assemblage. 
 
 It was determined, liowever, to take tlie opi- 
 nion of old Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen 
 slowly advancing up the road. He ^vas a descen- 
 dant of the historian of that name, who wrote 
 one of the earliest accounts of the province. Peter 
 was the most ancient inhabitant of the village, 
 and well versed m all the wonderful events and 
 traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected 
 Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the 
 most satisfactory manner. He assured the com- 
 pany that it was a fact, handed down from his 
 ancestor tlie historian, that the Kaatskill moun- 
 tains had always been haunted by strange beings. 
 Tlmt it was affirmed that the great Hendrick 
 Hudson, the first discoverer of the river and 
 country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty 
 years, with his crew of the Half-moon, being per- 
 mitted in this way to revisit the scenes of his en- 
 terprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river 
 and the great city called by his name. That his 
 father had once seen them in their old Dutch 
 dresses playing at nine-pins in a hollow of the 
 mountain; and that he himself had heard, one 
 summer afternoon, the sound of their balls, like 
 distant peals of thunder. 
 
 To make a long story short, the company 
 broke up, and returned to the more important 
 concerns of the election. Rip's daughter took 
 liim home to live with her : she had a snug, well- 
 furnished house, and a stout ciieery farmer for a 
 husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the 
 urchins tliat used to climb upon his back. As to 
 Rip's son and heir, who was tlie ditto of himself, 
 seen leaning against the tree, he was employed 
 to work on the f\irm : but evinced a hereditary 
 disposition to attend to any thing else but his 
 business. 
 
 Rap now resumed his old walks and habits; 
 he soon found many of his former cronies, 
 thcugh all ratlier the vvorse for the wear and tear 
 of time: and preferred making friends among the 
 
 rising generation, witli wiiom he soon grew into 
 great favor. 
 
 Having notliing to do at home, and being 
 arrived at tiiat happy age wlien a man can do 
 nothing with impunity, he took his place once 
 more on the bench, at the inn door, and was re- 
 verenced as one of the patriarclis of the village, 
 and a chronicle of the old times " before the war." 
 It was some time before he could get into the 
 regular track of gossip, or could be made to com- 
 prehend the strange events that had taken place 
 during his torpor. How that there had been a 
 revolutionary war — that tlie country had throwj 
 off" the yoke of old England — and that, instead of 
 being a subject of his majesty George the Third, 
 he was now a free citizen of the United States. 
 Rip, in fact, was no pofitician; the changes of 
 states and empires made but little impression on 
 him ; but there was one species of despotism un- 
 der which he had long groaned, and that was — ■ 
 petticoat government. Happily, that was at an 
 end ; he had got his neck out of the yoke of ma- 
 trimony, and could go in and out whenever he 
 pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame 
 Van Winkle. Whenever her name was mention- 
 ed, however, he shook his head, shrugged his 
 shoulders, and cast up his eyes ; which might pas?, 
 either for an expression of resignation to his fate, 
 or joy at his deliverance. 
 
 He used to tell his story to every stranger 
 that arrived at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was ob- 
 served, at first, to vary on some points every time 
 he told it, which was doubtless owing to his hav- 
 ing so recently awaked. It at last settled down 
 precisely to the tale I have related, and not a 
 man, woman, or child in the neighborhood, but 
 knew it by heart. Some always pretended to 
 doubt the reality of it, and insisted that Rip had 
 been out of his head, and that this was one point 
 on which he always remained flighty. The old 
 Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally 
 gave it full credit. Even to this day, they never 
 hear a thunder-storm of a summer afternoon 
 about the Kaatsldll, but they say Hendrick Hud- 
 son and his crew are at their game of nine-pins ; 
 and it is a common wish of all henpecked hus 
 blinds in the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy 
 on their hands, that they might have a quieting 
 di-aught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon. 
 
From ihe Knickerbocker, September Number, 1839. 
 
 SUNRISE UPON THE CAT SKILLS 
 
 ITie sultry air lies listless o'er the plain, 
 
 Nor longer cools the city's burning walls ; 
 All things that live, upon the land and main, 
 Pant for the breeze, to life and joy that calls ; 
 While I, impatient of its fervid sleep 
 Ai lowly vale, seek for its stirring breath on mountain steep. 
 
 For there it dies not ever; but on wings 
 
 Of the soft fleecy cloud it loves to bear, 
 From pure blue depths of heaven, ft-om vi-hich it spring 
 Coolness to brows, oppressed ^vith heat and care, 
 Mii music to the woods, making the nooks 
 Of leaves to join the concert of the mountain brooks. 
 
 Then rouse ye up, its kind approach to greet. 
 
 With sunrise on ibe mountain tops, and staj", 
 To mark how all that's glorioits, fair and sweet, 
 Comes fortli revealed by the bright god of day ; 
 And as upon the magic scene you gaze, 
 It seems his own creation strikes you with amaze. 
 
 Long ere he deigns to gild the proudest heads 
 
 Of eartli's bold mountains, he removes the pall 
 Of night from his high course in heaven, and spreads 
 Gay, gorgeous hues on clouds, that seem not all 
 In joy at his bright presence, but to mourn 
 In saddened livery, toward the moon's pale hour. 
 
 Behold he cotnes ! — majestic, calm, serene. 
 From his glad visit to vast empires, where 
 He poured his genial warmth, and glorious shone. 
 Unsullied by the deeds of darkness there ; 
 The battle-strife has knitted not his brow. 
 Nor stained his chaniot wheels, that roll on clouds of snow ! 
 
 As we from this proud height, the earth behcM 
 
 Ushered into his presence ; and the Hash 
 Of his first beams, reveals, in outline bold, 
 The distant hills imprinted at one dash, 
 In dark relief, upon the glowing sky, 
 To fade there through each shade of blue, till evening diet 
 
 We see the very motion of the world. 
 
 That seems to bow in solemn awe profound. 
 Before its God ; with clouds for incense hurled. 
 And for an altar, boundless space around ; 
 While silver streams a holy vestment make. 
 And hoUow winds through forests wild the organ peal nwake 
 
 Just worship ! — for behold the glory spread 
 
 Around his throne, as he ascends in heaven ! 
 Rich, gorgeous clouds for canopy o'er head, 
 And deep blue boundless skies for pathway giren; 
 While, like a carpet o'er the plain, his rays 
 Pellucid, shed around a soft vermillion haze. 
 
 The solemn stiUness calms my restless mind. 
 
 As it goes forth ; I see the swelling sail, 
 But hear no dash of waters, and I find 
 No sound from steeple gleaming in the vale ; 
 E'en the green tree-tops, stirred beneath my feet. 
 By winds, mine ears with their low murmurs scarcely greel 
 
 S. D. D. 
 
 Cntskill Mountain House. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM 
 
 THE • OLLAPODIANA " PAPERS OF WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK 
 
 Commencing at page 207 of his " Literary Remains."' 
 
 You would scarcely tiiink, arrived at Kaats- 
 kill Landing, on the Hudson, that just before 
 you enter the coach which convoys you to the 
 mountain, that any extraordinar} prospect was 
 about to open upon your vision. True, as when 
 on the water, the great cloud Presence looms 
 aftu" , yet there is a long level country between 
 it ana yoii : and it is too early in the day to 
 drink in the grandeur of the scene. You are 
 content with watching the complex operations of 
 that aquatic and equestrian mystery, a horse- 
 boat, which plies from the humble tavern at the 
 water's edge to the other shore of the Hudson. 
 The animals give a consumptive wheeze, as they 
 start, stretching out their long necks, indulging 
 in faint recollections of that luippy juvenescenoe, 
 
 wlien they wasted the hours of their coUhood n 
 pastures of clover and moving with a kind oi 
 unambitious sprawl, as if they cared but little 
 whether they stood or fell ; a turn of mind which 
 induces them to stir their forward legs more 
 glibly than those in the opposite quarter, quick- 
 ening the former from pride, and " contracting 
 the latter from motives of decency." This is 
 said to be their philosophy ; and they act upon it 
 with a religious devotion, " worthy a better 
 cause." 
 
 As you move along from the landing, by 
 pleasant and quiet waters, and through scenes 
 of pastoral tranquillity, you seem to be tJireading 
 a road which leads througli a peaceful and varie- 
 gated plain. You lose the memory of the high- 
 
OLIAPODIAXA PAPERS 
 
 13 
 
 lands and the river, in the thought that yiu ;ire 
 taking a journey into a country as lovel ad the 
 lowHest hind in Jersey. Sometimes the moun- 
 tains, as you turn a point of the road, appear 
 afar; but "are they clouds, or are they not?" 
 By the mass, you shall hardly tell. Meantime, 
 you are a ;pZain-traveller, a quiet man. All at 
 once you are wheeled upon a vernal theatre, 
 some five or six miles in width, at whose ex- 
 tremity the bases of the Kaatskills 'gin to rise. 
 How impressive the westering sunsliine, sifting 
 itself down the mi-Iity ravines and hollows, and 
 tinting the far-oft' summits with aerial light! 
 How majestic yet soft the gradations from the 
 ponderous grandeur of the formation; up, up to 
 the giddy and delic;ite shadowings, which dimly 
 veil and sanctify their tops, as " sacristies of na- 
 ture," where the cedar rocks to the wind, and the 
 screaming eagle snaps his mandibles, as he 
 sweeps a circuit of miles with one full impulse 
 .>f his glorious wing! Contrastuig the rough- 
 ness of the basis with the printed beauty of the 
 iris-hued and skiey ultimatum, I could not but 
 deem that the bard of " Thanatopsis " had well 
 applied to the Kaatskills those happy lines 
 wherein he apostrophizes the famous heights of 
 Europe : 
 
 " Your peaks are beautiful, ye Appenines, 
 " la the soft light of your serepest skies ; 
 
 " From the broad highland region, dark with pines, 
 " Fair as the hills of paradise, ye rise !" 
 
 Be not to eager, as you take the first stage 
 of the mountain, to look about you ; especially, 
 be not anxious to look afar. Now and then, it 
 is true, as the coach turns, you cannot choose 
 but see a landscape to the south and east,/ar- 
 ther o^than you evei saw one before, broken up 
 into a thousand vistas but look you at them 
 with a sleepy, sidelong eye, to the end that you 
 may finally receive from the Platform the fiill 
 glory of the final view. In the meantime, there 
 is enough directly about you to employ all your 
 eyes, if you had the ocular endowments of an 
 Argus. Huge rocks, that might have been sent 
 from warring Titans, decked with moss, over- 
 hung with rugged shrubbery, and cooling the 
 springs that trickle from beneath them, gloom 
 beside the. way; vast chasms, which your coach 
 shall sometimes seem to overhang, yawn on the 
 left.; the pine and cedar-scented air comes freely 
 and sweetly from the brown bosom of the 
 woods ; until, one high ascent attained, a level 
 for a while succeeds, and your smoking horses 
 rest, while, with expanding nostril, you drink in 
 the rarer and yet rarer air • a stillness like the 
 
 peace of Eden, (broken oaly by the whisper ol 
 leaves, the faint chant of embowered birds, or 
 the distant notes that come " mellowed and min- 
 gling from the vale below,") hangs at tho portal 
 of your ear. It. is a time to be still, to be con- 
 templative ; to hear no voice but your own 
 ejaculations, or those of one who will share and 
 heighten your enjoyment, by partaking it »n 
 peace, and as one with you, yet alone. 
 
 Passing the ravine, where the immortal Rip 
 Van Winkle played his game of nine-pins with 
 the wizards of that neighborhood, and quaffed 
 huge draughts of those bewildering flagons 
 which made liim sleep for years, I flung myself 
 impatiently from the " quarter-deck " of the pos- 
 tillion whose place I had shared ; I grasped that 
 goodly globe of gold and ivory which heads my 
 customary cane — the present of" My Hon. friend" 
 
 S , and which once di-ew into itself the 
 
 sustenance of life from that hallowed mound 
 which guards the dust of Washington, and 
 pushed gaily on, determined to pause not until 
 my weary feet stood on the Platform. Tlie road 
 was smooth and good; the air refreshing and 
 pure, beyond description. The lungs play there 
 without an effort; it is a luxury to breathe. 
 How holy was the stillness! Not a sound in- 
 vaded the solemn air ; it was like inhaling the 
 sanctity of the empyrean. The forest tops soon 
 began to stir as with a mighty wind. I looked, 
 and on both sides of the road there were trees 
 whose branches had been broken, as if by the 
 wings of some nishing tempest. It was the 
 havoc of winter snows. 
 
 There is a wonderful deception in the approach 
 to the Mountain House, which, when disco- 
 vered, will strike the traveller with amazement. 
 At one point of the road, where the mansion 
 which is to terminate your pilgrimage heaves its 
 wliite form in view, (you have seen it from the 
 river for nearly half a day,) it seems not farther 
 than a hundred rods, and hangs apparently on 
 tJie verge of a stupendous crag over your head , 
 the road turns again, it is out of sight, and the 
 summits, near its locus in quo, are nearly three 
 miles oflT. The eflTect is wonderful. The moun- 
 tain is growing upon you. 
 
 I continued to ascend, slowly, but witli pa- 
 tient steps, and with a flow of spirit which I can 
 not describe. Looking occasionally to the east, 
 I saw a line of such parti-colored clouds, (as then 
 I deemed them,) yellow, green and purple, sil- 
 
14 
 
 OF WILLIS GAYLORD ULARK 
 
 ver-]aced afivdviolet-bordortd, that it meseemed 
 I never viewed the like kaleidoscopic present- 
 ments. All this time, I wondered that I had 
 teen no land for many a weary mile. 
 
 Hill after liill, mere ridges "of the mountain, 
 was attained ; summit after summit surmounted : 
 and yet it seemed to me that the house was as 
 far off as e\-er. Finally it appeared, and a-nigh ; 
 to me the " earth's one sanctuary." I reached it ; 
 my name was on the book; the queries of the 
 publican, as to "how many coach-loads were 
 beliind,"' (symptoms of a yearning for the al- 
 miglity dollar, even in tliis holy of nature's ho- 
 lies,) Avere answered, and I stood on the Platform. 
 
 Good Reader ! expect me not to describe tiie 
 indescribable. I feel now, while memory is busy 
 in my brain, in the silence of my library, calling 
 up thai vision to my mind, much as I did when 1 
 leaned upon my stuff before that omnipotent pic- 
 ture, and looked abroad upon its Gon-written 
 magnitude. It was a vast and changeful, a ma- 
 jestic, an hilermmahle landscape ; a fairy, gi-and, 
 and delicately-colored scene, with rivers for its 
 lines of reflections ; witli Iiighlands and the vales 
 of Stales for its si adowings, and far-off" moun- 
 tains for its frame. Tiiose parti-colored and va- 
 rying clouds I fancied I had seen as I ascended, 
 were but portions of the scene. AH colors of 
 the niinljow ; all softness of harvest-field, and 
 forest, and distant cities, and the towns that sim- 
 ply dotted the Hudson; and far beyond where 
 that noble river, diminished to a brooklet, rolled 
 its waters, titere opened mountain after moun- 
 Viin, vale after vale. State after State, heaved 
 against the horizon, to the north-east and south, 
 in impressive and sublime confusion ; wliile siill 
 beyond, in undulating ridges, filled with all hues 
 of light and shade, coquetting with the cloud, 
 rolled the rock-ribbed and ancient frame of this i 
 dim diorama ! As the sun went down, the houses 
 and cities diminislied to dots : the evening gims 
 of the national anniversary came booming up from 
 the valley of the Hudson; the bonfires blazed 
 along the peaks of distant mountains, and from 
 the suburbs of countless villages along the river; 
 while in the dim twilight, 
 
 " From coast to coast, and fi-om toivn to town, 
 
 " You could see all the white sails gleaming down." 
 
 The steam-boats, liastening to and fro, vomited 
 their fires upon the air, and the circuit of unnum- 
 bered miles sent up its sights and sounds, from 
 the region below, over which the vast shadows 
 of the mountains were stealino-. 
 
 Just before the sun dropped behind the west, 
 
 Ills slant beams p^itired over the south mountain 
 and fell upon a wide sea of feathery clouds, 
 which were sweeping midway along its form, 
 obscuring the vale below. I sought an eminence 
 in the neigliborliood, and with the sun at my 
 back, saw a giant form depicted in a misty halo 
 on the clouds below. He was identified, insub- 
 stantial but extensive Shape ! I stretched forth 
 my hand, and the giant spectre waved his sha- 
 dowy arm over the whole county of Dutchess, 
 through the misty atmosphere; while just at his 
 supernatural coat-tail, a shower of light played 
 upon tlie highlands, verging toward West Point, 
 on the river, which are to the eye, from the 
 Mountain House, level slips of shore, that seeD* 
 scarce so gross as knolls of the smallest size. 
 
 Of the grandeur of the Kaatskills at sunrise'; 
 of the patriotic blazon which our bonfire made 
 on the Fourth, at evening; of the Falls, and cer- 
 tain pecuniary trickeries connected with their 
 grim majesty, and a general digest of the stu- 
 pendous scene, shall these not be discoursed 
 hereafter, and in truthful wise? Yea, reader, 
 verily, and from tlie note-book of thine, faithful 
 to the end, Ollapod. 
 
 . November, 1837. 
 
 We parted, my good reader, last at the 
 Kaatskills — no? "It was a summers evening;" 
 and with my shadow on the mountain mist, 1 
 ween, vanislied in your thouglits the memory of 
 me. Well, that was natural. A hazy, dream- 
 like idea of my whereabout may have haunted 
 you for a moment — ^but it passed. I can not 
 allow you to escape so easily. " Lend us tiie 
 loan" of your eye, for some twenty minutes: 
 and if you are a home-bred and untravelled per- 
 son, 'tis likely, as the valet says in Cinderella, 
 that " I may chance to make you stare !" 
 
 In discoursing of the territorial wonderments 
 in question, wliich have been moulded by the 
 hand of the x^lmighty, I cannot suppose that 
 you who read my reveries will look with a com- 
 pact, imaginative eye upon that whicli has forced 
 its huge radius upon my own extended vision. 
 I ask you, howbeit, to take my arm, and step 
 forth with me from the piazza of the Mountain 
 House. It is night. A few stars are peeruig 
 from a dim azure field of western sky ; the high- 
 soaring breeze, the breath of heaven, makes a 
 stilly music in the neighboring pines ; the meek 
 crest of Dian rolls along- tlie blue depths of ether 
 
OLr.ArODIANA PAPERS. 
 
 15 
 
 tiniiiig \\itii silver lines the half dun, half fleecy 
 ilouds; they who are in the parlors make "con- 
 siderable " noi&c ; there is an individual at the 
 end of the portico discussing his quadruple julep, 
 and another devotedly sucking the end of a cane, 
 as if it were full of mother's milk ; he hummeth 
 also an air from // Ptra/.a, and wonders, in the 
 simplicity of his heart, " why the devil that there 
 steam-boat from Albany does n't begin to show 
 its lights down on the Hudson." His companion 
 of the glass, however, is intent on the renewal 
 thereof. Calling to him the chief " help " of the 
 place, lie says. " Is that other antifogmatic 
 ready ?" 
 
 "No, sir."' 
 
 "Well, now, person, what's the reason? 
 \Vliat was my last observation 1 Says I to you, 
 says I, 'Make me a fourth of them beverages;' 
 and moreover, I added. Just you keep doing so ; 
 be conslanthj making them, till the order is coun- 
 termanded.' Give us another : go I vanish I — 
 ' diappear and appear.' " 
 
 The obsequious servant went ; and returning 
 with the desired draught, observed probably for 
 the thousandth time : " Tliere ! that's what I call 
 the true currency; them's the ginooyiie mint 
 drops; ha — ha — ha!" — these separate divisions 
 of his laughter coming out of his mouth at inter- 
 vals of about half a minute each. 
 
 There is a bench near the verge of the Plat- 
 form where, when you sit at evening, the hollow- 
 souuding air comes up from the vast vale below, 
 like the restless murmurs of the ocean. Anchor 
 yourself here for a wiiile, reader, with me. It 
 being the evening of the national anniversary, a 
 few patriotic individuals are extremely busy in 
 piling up a huge pyramid of dried pine branches, 
 barrels covered with tar, and kegs of spirits, to a 
 height of some fifteen or twenty feet — perhaps 
 higher. A bonfire is premeditated. You shall 
 see anon how the flames will rise. The prepa/- 
 rations are completed ; the fire is applied. Hear 
 how it crackles and hisses ! Slowly but spite- 
 fully it mounts from limb to limb, and from one 
 combustible to another, until the whole welkin 1 
 is a-blaze, and shaking as witli thunder ! It is a i 
 beautiful sight. The gush of unwonted radiance 
 rolls in efiulgent surges adown the vale. How 
 the owl hoots with surprise at the interrupting 
 light! Bird of wisdom, it is the Fourth! and 
 you may well add }i!ur voice to swell the choral 
 honors of the time. How the tall old pines, 
 withered by the biting scathe of Eld, rise to the 
 view> afar and near; white shafts, bottomed . in 
 
 darkness and standing like the sen-ied spears of 
 an innumerable army ! Tlie groups around the 
 beacon are gathered together, but are forced to 
 enlarge the circle of their acquaintance, by the 
 growing intensity of the increasing blaze. Some 
 of them, being ladies, their white robes waving 
 in the mountain breeze, and the light sliining full 
 upon them, present, you observe, a beautiful ap- 
 pearance. The pale pillars of the portico flash 
 fitfully into view, now seen and gone, like co- 
 lumns of mist. The swarthy African who kin- 
 dled the fire, regards it Avith perspiring face and 
 grinning ivories ; and lo ! the man who hath 
 mastered the quintupled glass of metamorphosed 
 eau-de-vie, standing by the towering pile of flame, 
 and, reaching hi^ hand on high, he smiteth there- 
 with his sinister pap, with a most hollow sound; 
 the knell, as it were of his departing reason. In 
 -nort, he is making an oration! 
 
 Listen to those voiceful currents of air, tra- 
 \ersing the vast profound below the Platform I 
 What a mighty circumference do they sweep! 
 Over how many towns, and dwellings, and 
 streams, and inconmmnicable woods ! Murmurs 
 of the dark, sources and awakeners of sublime 
 imagination, swell from afar. You have thoughts 
 of eternity and power here, which shall haunt 
 you evermore. But we must be early stirrers in 
 the morning. L«t us to bed. 
 
 You can lie on your pillow at the KaatsRill 
 House, and see the god of day look upon you 
 from behind the pinnacles of the White Moun- 
 tains in New Hampshire, hundreds of miles away. 
 Noble prospect! As the great orb heaves up in 
 inef^xble grandeur, he seems rising from beneath 
 you, and you fancy that you have attained an 
 elevation where may be seen the motion of the 
 world. No intervening land to limit the \'iew, 
 you seem suspended in mid-air, without one ob- 
 stacle to check the eye. The scene is indfjscrib- 
 able. The chequered and interminable vale, 
 sprinkled with groves, and lakes, and towns, and 
 streams ; the mountains afar oft', swelling tumul- 
 tuously heavenward, like waves of the ocean, 
 some incarnadined with radiance, others purpled 
 in shade ; all these, to use the language of an 
 auctioneer's advertisement, " are too tedious to 
 mention, but may be seen on the premises." I 
 know of but one picture which will give the 
 reader an idea of this ethereal spot. It was the 
 view which the angel Michael was polite enough, 
 one summer morning, to point out to Adam, from 
 the highest hill of Paradise • 
 
16 
 
 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 
 
 'His eye might there command wherever stood 
 
 Oity of old or modern fame, the seat 
 
 Of mightiest empire, from the destined walla 
 
 Of Cfimbalu, seat of Cathalsn Can, 
 
 And Sarmachand by Oxus, Temir's throne, 
 
 To Paquin of Sinajan kings ; and thence 
 
 To Ac^a and Lahor of great Mogul 
 
 Down to the golden Chersonese ; or where 
 
 The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since 
 
 In Ilizpahan; or where the Russian Ksar 
 
 In Mosco : or the Sultan in Bizaiice, 
 
 Ttu'chestan bom ; nor could his eye not ken 
 
 The empire of Ne;jus, to his urmost port, 
 
 Erocco ; and the less maritime kings 
 
 Mombaza. and Quiloa, and Melind, 
 
 And SofaK thought Ophir. to the realm 
 
 Of Conge- and Angola, farthest *)Uth ; 
 
 Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas' mount, 
 
 The kingdoms of Almanzor, Fez, and Suz, 
 
 Morocc), and Algier, and Tremizen; 
 
 On Europe thence, and where Rome was to Bway 
 
 The world ; in spirit perhaps he also saw 
 
 Rich Mexico, the seat of Moutezume, 
 
 (And Texas too, great Houston's seat — who knows?) 
 
 And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat 
 
 OfAtabalipa; and yet unspoiled 
 
 Guiiina, whose great city Geyro'ns sons 
 
 Calls El Dorado." 
 
 It looks to be :i perilous enterprise to de- 
 ■icend the Kaatskills. You feel, as you com- 
 mfence the " facilis descensus," (what an unhack- 
 neyed phrase, to be sure !) very much the sort 
 of sensation probably experienced by Parachute 
 Cocking, whose end was so shocking. The 
 wheels of the coach are shod with the prepara- 
 tion of iron slippers, which are essential to a 
 hold up ; and as you bowl and grate along, with 
 with wilderness-chasms and a brawling stream 
 mayhap on one hand, and horrid masses of stone 
 seemingly ready to tumble upon you on the 
 (ilher; the far plain stretching like the sea be- 
 TK/atli you, in the mists of the morning; your 
 emotions are fidgettij. You are not afraid — not 
 vou, indeed! Catch you at such folly! No; 
 but you wish most devoutly that you were some 
 
 nine miles down, nolwitiisluniliiig, and are look- 
 ing eagerly for tjiat oonsuinniaLion. 
 
 We paused jimt long enough at Ine bnse of 
 the mountain to water the cattle, and hear a bit 
 of choice grammar from the hmdlorrl; a burly, 
 big individual, " careless of the objective case," 
 and studious of ease, in bags of tow-cluth, (trow- 
 sers by courtesy,) and a roundabout of the same 
 material ; the knees of the unmentionables ap- 
 parently greened by kneeling humbly at the lac- 
 tiferous udder of his only cow, day by day. He 
 addi'essed " the gentlemen that driv' us down • 
 
 " Well, Josh, I seen them rackets .'" 
 
 " Wa' n't they almighty bright ?" was the in 
 quisitive reply. 
 
 This short colloquy had reference to a train 
 of fire-works which were set off the evening 
 before at the Mounttiin House ; long snaky 
 trails of light, llasihing in their zigzag course 
 through the darkness. It was beautiful to see 
 those fiery sentences written fitfully on the sky, 
 fading one by one, like some Hebrew character, 
 some Nebuchadnezzar scroll, in the dark pro- 
 found, and showing, as the rocket fell and faded, 
 that beneath the lowest deep to which it des- 
 cended, there was one yet lower still, to which it 
 swept " plumb-down, a shower of fire." 
 
 We presently rolled away, and were soon 
 drawn up in front of the Hudson and. the horse- 
 boat, at the landing. The same unfortunate ani- 
 mals were peering forth from that aquatic ve- 
 hicle ; one of them dropping his hairy lip, with 
 a melancholy expression, and the other stre- 
 nuously endeavoring to remove a wisp of straw 
 which had found a lodgment on his nose. Tho 
 effort, however, was vain ; his physical energies 
 sank under the task ; he gave it up, and was 
 soon under way for the opposite shore, with his 
 four-legged fellow traTeller, and three bipeds, 
 who were smoking segars. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 "IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA, DURING 1833-35/' 
 
 BY TYRONE POWER, Esa. 
 
 " A stage was in waiting at the landing place, 
 \7-hich quickly took us to the town ; where we 
 took a carriage directly to the Mountain House, 
 which we had marked from the river as the morn- 
 ing sun lighted it up, looking like a white dove 
 cot raised against the dark hill side. 
 
 I will say nothing of our winding •ockv 
 
 road, or of the glimpses we now and then had of 
 the nether world, which "momentarily grew 
 less," as, whilst halting for breath, we curiously 
 peeped tlirough the leafy skreen, flying from the' j 
 faded leaf and drooping flower of scorching sum- 
 mer, and finding ourselves once more surround- 
 ed by all the lovely evidences of early sprmg. 1 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 
 
 » 
 
 walked more thiui half \v;iy, and never felt less 
 weary than Avhen I rested on the natural plat- 
 form, which, thrust from the hill-side, forms a 
 stand wlienco may be worshipped one of the 
 moat glorious prospects ever given by the crea- 
 tor to man's admiration. 
 
 In tlie cool shade we stood here, and from 
 this eyry looked upon the silver line drawn 
 through the vast rich valley far below, doubtful 
 of its being the broad Hudson, upon whose bo- 
 som we had so lately floated in a huge vessel 
 crowded with passengers; for this vessel we 
 searched in vain ; but, by the aid of a telescope, 
 made out one of the same kind, which appeared 
 to flit along like some fairy skiff on a pantomi- 
 mic lake made all radient with gold and pearl. 
 
 Ho^v' delightful were the sensations atten- 
 dant upon a first repose in this changed climate, 
 enhanced as these were by the remembrance of 
 the broiling we had so recently endured ! I never 
 remember to have risen with feelings more elas- 
 tic, or in higher spirits, than I did after my first 
 night's rest upon the mountain. 
 
 ******* 
 ****** 
 
 A ride of some three miles brought us as 
 close as might be to the spot, (the Falls,) and a 
 walk of as many hundred yards presented to 
 view a scene as well suited for a witch's festival 
 as any spot in the old world. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Witli two others, I decided upon walking 
 
 back, and pleasant it is to wa^k through these 
 quiet wild wood-paths, where tlie chirps of the 
 birds and the nestle of the leaves alone break in 
 upon the repose. These mountains are every- 
 where thickly clothed with wood, save only the 
 platform where the house is built ; dear abound 
 on tlic lov/er ridges, and the bear yet finds am- 
 ple cover here. A number of these animals are 
 killed every season by an indefatigable old Nim- 
 rod who lives in the valley beneath, and who 
 breeds some very fine dogs to this sport. 
 
 I did promise unto myself that during the 
 coming November I would return up here, for 
 the purpose of seeing Bruin baited in his proper 
 lair ; but regret to say my plan was frustrated. 
 It must be an e.xciting chase to rouse the lord of 
 this wild mountain forest on a sunny morning 
 with the first hoar frost yet crisping the feathery 
 pines ; and to hear the deep-mouthed hounds giv- 
 ing tongue where an hundred echoes wait to bay 
 the fierce challenge back, and to hear the sharp 
 crack of the rifle rattle through the thin air. 
 
 Or, whilst resting upon some crag under the 
 blue sunny sky, to watch the sea of cold clouds 
 tumbling about far below, and think that they 
 o'er canopy a region lower still, about which 
 one's fellows are at the moment creeping with 
 red noses and w^atery eyes, or rubbing their fro- 
 zen fingers over anthracite stoves, utterly uncon- 
 scious, poor devils ! that 
 
 « The sun, when obscured by the clouds yet above 
 " Shines uot the less bright, though unseen." 
 
 THE CATSKILL MOUNTAINS 
 
 BY N. P. WILLIS. 
 
 From the New Mirror, September 9, 1843. 
 
 At this elevation you may wear woollen and 
 sleep under blankets in midsummer ; and that is 
 a pleasant temperature where much hard work is 
 to be done in the way of pleasure-hunting. No 
 place so agreeable as Catskill, after one has been 
 par-boiled in the city. New-York is at the other 
 end of that long thread of a river, running away 
 south from the base of the mountain ; and you 
 may change vovlt climate in so brief a transit, 
 that the most enslaved broker in Wall-street 
 may have half his home on Catskill. The cool 
 woods, the small silver lakes, the falls, the moun- 
 tain-tops, are all delicious haunts for the idler- 
 away of th« hot months and, to the credit of 
 
 our taste, it may be said they are fully improved 
 —Catskill is a « resort." 
 
 From the Mountain House the busy and all- 
 glorious Hudson is seen winding half its silver 
 length— towns, villas, and white spires, sparkling 
 on the shores, and snowj' sails and gaily-painted 
 steamers specking its bosom. It is a constant 
 diorama of the most lively beauty ; and the tra- 
 veller, as he looks down upon it, sighs to make 
 it a home. Yet a smaller and less-frequented 
 stream would best fulfil desires born of a sigh. 
 There is either no seclusion on the Hudson, or 
 there is so much that the conveniences of life 
 are difficult to obtain. WTieie the steamers come 
 
CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE. 
 
 to shore (twenty a day, with each from one to 
 seven hundred passengers) it is certainly far 
 from secluded enough ; yet, away from the land- 
 ing-places, servants find your house too lonely, 
 ani: your table, without unreasonable expense 
 and trouble, is precarious and poor. These mean 
 and menus plaisirs reacli, after all, the very cita- 
 del of philosophy. Who can live without a cook 
 or a chambermaid, and dine seven days in a week 
 on veal, consoling himself with the beauties of 
 a river side ? 
 
 On the smaller rivers these evils are some- 
 what ameliorated; for in the rural and uncorrupt 
 villages of the interior you may lind servants 
 born on Ihe spot, and content to live in the neigh- 
 borhood. The market is better, too, and the so- 
 ciety less exposed to the evils that result from 
 too easy an access to the metropolis. No place 
 can be rural, in all the virtues of the phrase, 
 where a steamer will take the villager to the city 
 between noon and night, and bring him back be- 
 
 tween midnight and morning. There is a subur- 
 ban look and character about all the villages on 
 the Hudson which seems out of place among 
 such scenery. They are suburbs ; in fact, steam 
 has destroyed the distance between them and 
 the city. 
 
 The Mountain House on the Catskill, it 
 should be remarked, is a luxurious hotel. How 
 the proprietor can hav-e dragged up, and keeps 
 dragging up, so many superfluities from the river 
 level to the eagle's nest, excitefs your wonder. It 
 is the more strange, because in chmbing a moun- 
 tain the feeling is natural that you leave such en- 
 ervating indulgences below. 
 
 The mcuntain-top «is too Lear heaven. It 
 should be a monastery to lodge in so high — 
 a St. Gotliard, or a Vallambrosa. But here 
 you may choose between Hermitages, " white " 
 or " red " Burgundias, Madeiras, French dishes, 
 and French dances, as if you had de'je''i!<]''d un- 
 on Capua. ' 
 
 From the New World. 
 
 CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE. BY PARK BENJAMIN. 
 
 July, lSi\i. 
 
 'Tis pleasant, for a while to leave the heated 
 pavements and the garbaged atmosphere of our 
 ever-bustling noisy city ; to bid adieu to the con- 
 tinued rumbling and rattling of all the various 
 »-ehicles that the worried horses are destined to 
 drag in merciless labor to and fro tlie city's 
 length ; to shun the charco.11 vender's unearthly 
 liuttural: the cries of the newspaper urchins, 
 more varied in tone than the gamut's self; to flee 
 from patients, clients, patrons, and all the con- 
 stant never- varying avocations that tend to harass 
 and perplex the lives of toiling citizens; and 
 perch one's self upon some mountainous eleva- 
 tion, where nature's calmness changes the cur- 
 rent of our thoughts, and turns them from the 
 real and artificial miseries of humanity. On such 
 •i spot we can enjoy an inward elevation partak- 
 ing of the beauty and serenity of the scene, 
 a!id indulge the mind in instructive reflections 
 upon tlie past, the present, and the future. There 
 are those, however, to whom nature is alike in 
 wlmtever form presented, whose grovelling souls 
 are inaccessible to mspiration. Business, to such 
 an one, is his country, his ftimily, his friends, and 
 his religion ; in fact the very essence of his be- 
 
 ing and wealtli is his idol. In him the " accursed 
 thirst for gold " is a disease, a monomania, a soli- 
 tary idea that fills his brain to overflowing, like 
 the opium eater, who is ever restless until he 
 feels the inspirating drug ; this apology of a ra- 
 tional being is ever miserable when his mind is 
 not engaged upon calculations of profit and loss. 
 He sleeps beside his counting-room. His meals 
 are bolted in the cellar beneath. He never eats 
 or masticates, but like the anaconda, swallows 
 whole the food that he ]r.is not time to chew. 
 
 But enough of such a being. The spot where^ 
 on I write would be desecrated by his presence. 
 
 It would seem tliat the great Creator of the 
 universe had built up this mighty eminence, that 
 man might know His power, and feeling his own 
 insignificance, despise and shun the vanities and 
 hoUow-heartedness of life. Here the belief is 
 taught that there is but one religion and one 
 great family of mankind. Station yourself up- 
 on that projecting rock that hangs in such terrific 
 altitude over the immense space beneath, but at- 
 tempt not to give utterance to your feelings— 
 lancTuage could not express them. Have von 
 
PINE ORCHARD HOUSE. 
 
 19 
 
 ever stood upon a vessel's deck, lashed to her for 
 security, amid the howling tempest's rage, the 
 winds driving her into the sea's deep chasms, 
 and suspending her on the lofty pinnacle of the 
 waves, the lightning's flashes briglitening the 
 surrounding horrors, and showing by its vivid 
 glares the peril of your situation ? Have you 
 ever known the mightiness of the tempest's an- 
 <n-y mood at such a moment, and felt how ut- 
 terly inadequate is speech ? If so, then stand 
 upon this high-poised rock and learn, that it is 
 not the awfully sublime alone that seals the 
 lips, but that nature in her calmest mood can 
 subdue the mind to silence. 
 
 The checkered scene below lies Uke the 
 loveliest meadow, in variegated patchwork. Hills 
 have disappeared here and there, apparently 
 within a .narrow lane, a mite is seen. It is the 
 vehicle of some sturdy farmer, drawn by his 
 well fed span, measuring with rapid pace the 
 broad highway leading to the distaqt village, 
 whose diminished spires decorate the landscape. 
 Observe that quiet stream attenuated to a brook. 
 One bound would cany you to its opposite 
 bank — wei-c it what it seems — and by that bound 
 you would leap the noble Hudson. See that tiny 
 
 cloud — smaller tlian tlie put!" just issuing from 
 your Havanna — as it rises from the river's sur- 
 face. That speck beneath is speeding on its way 
 with a velocity that gladdens its living freight of 
 anxious travellers, and yet to the eye it moves 
 not. Those flir-off mountains, rising from the ho- 
 rizon in varied obscure shapes and heigiits, belong 
 to other states. The fleeting clouds in graceful 
 movement pass beneath you, dragging their 
 lengthened shadows over the colored plain, un- 
 til nature's curtain, being drawn, shuts out the 
 view. Arid now the whole becomes one vast fic- 
 titious sea, placing you in feeling near th« 
 ocean's level, and relieving for a moment the 
 nervous throbs the dizzy height occasioned. 
 Soon the clouds disperse, and separating in 
 clianging forms, the quiet region underneath lies 
 atrain before you in all its beautiful and glorious 
 sublimity. Such is nature's tableaux. Why was 
 creation formed with features so imposing, but 
 for man's great benefit, that he might learn the 
 power and majesty of the Omnipotent! 
 
 Come, then, ye multitudes of uneducated 
 mortals, and from this great book store your 
 minds with deep reflections, leading to v/isdom 
 and to happiness. 
 
 FROM "RETROSPECT OF WESTERN TRAVEL," BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. 
 
 Vol. 1. page 57, &c 
 
 PINE ORCHARD HOUSE. 
 
 " But the n>nv glory mixes witli the heaven 
 
 And earth. Man, once descried, imprints lor ever 
 
 His presence on all lifeless things ; the winds 
 
 Are henceforth voices, v>-ailing or a shout, 
 
 A querulous nnitter or a quick gay laugh ; 
 
 Never a senseless gust now man is bom. 
 
 Tlie herded pines commune, and have deep dioughts, 
 
 A secret they assemble to discuss 
 
 When the sua drops behind their trunks which glare 
 
 Lilse grates of hell ; the peerless cup afloat 
 
 Of the lake-lily is an urn some nymph 
 
 Swims bearing high above her head. 
 
 The morn has enterprise ; deep quiet droops 
 
 With evening ; triimiph when the sun takes rest ; 
 
 Voluptuous transport when the corn-fields ripen 
 
 Beneath a wanu moon, like a happy face : 
 
 And this to fill us with regard for man, 
 
 Deep apprehension of his passing worth." — Paracelsus, Part V- 
 
 However widely European travellers have I to agree in their love of the Hudson. The pens 
 differed about other things in America, aU seem 1 of all tourists dwell on its scenery, and tiei' 
 
2U 
 
 PINE OJtiCHAllD HOUSfc. 
 
 affections linger about it ILlve the magic lights j 
 which seem to have tills river in their peculiar 
 charge. Yet very few travellers have seen its 
 noblest wonder. I may be singular ; but I ov.^n 
 that I was more moved by what I saw from the 
 Mountain House than by Niagara itself. 
 
 What is this Mountiiin House ? this Pine 
 Orchard House? many will ask ; for its name is 
 not to be found in most books of x\nierican tra- 
 vels. " What is that white speck 1" I myself 
 asked, when staying at Tivoli, on the east bank 
 of the Hudson, oj^posite to the Catskills, whose 
 shadowy surface was perpetually tempting the 
 eye. That white speck, visible to most eyes 
 only wiien bright sunshine was upon it, was the 
 Mountain House; a hotel built for the accom- 
 modation of hardy travellers who may desire to 
 obtain that complete viev/ of the valley of the 
 Hudson which can be had nowhere else. I 
 made up my mind to go ; and the next year I 
 went, on leaving Dr. Hosack's. I tliink I had 
 rather have n:iissed tiie Hawk's Nest, the Prairies, 
 the Mississippi, and even Niagara than this. 
 
 The steamboat in wliicli we left Hyde Park 
 landed us at Catskill (thuly-oue miles) at a little 
 after three in the afternoon. Stages were wait- 
 ing to convey passengers to the Mountain House, 
 and we were off in a few minutes, expecting to 
 perform the ascending journey of twelve miles 
 in a little more than four hours. We had the 
 same horses all the way, and therefore set off at 
 a moderate pace, though the road was for some 
 time level, intersecting rich bottoms, and passing 
 flourishing i'arm-houses, where the men were 
 milking, and the women looked up from their 
 work in the piazzas as we passed. Haymaldng 
 was going on in the fields, wliich appeared to 
 hang above us at first, bu* on which we after- 
 ward looked down from such a height that the 
 haycocks were scarcely distinguishable. It was 
 the 25th of July, and a very hot day for the sea- 
 son. The roads weie parched up, and every 
 exposed thing that ojie handled on board the 
 steamboat or in the stage made one flinch from 
 the bxuning sensation. The pantin^ horses, one 
 of tliem bleeding at tiie mouth, stopped to drink 
 at a house at the foot of the ascent; and we 
 wonedred how, exhausted as they seemed, they 
 would drag us up the mountain. We did not 
 calculate on the change of temperature which we 
 were soon to experience. 
 
 Tlie mountain laurel conveyed by association 
 the first impression of coolness. Sheep were 
 Drowsing among the shrubs, apparently enjoying 
 the shelter of the covert. We scrambled through 
 
 deep shade for three or foijj' miles, lieavy show, 
 ers passing over us, and gusts of wind bowing 
 tire ti'ee-tops, and sending a shiver through us. 
 partly from the sudden chiilness, and partly from 
 expectation and av/e of the breezy solitude. On 
 turning a sharp angle of the steep road, at a 
 great elevation, we stopped in a damp gTeen 
 nook, where there was an arrangement of hollow 
 trees to serve for water-troughs. Wliile the 
 horses were drinking the gusts parted the trees 
 to the left, and exposed to me a vast extent of 
 country lying below, checkered with light and 
 shadow. This was the moment in wliich a lady 
 in the stage said, with a yawn, " I hope we shall 
 find something at the top to pay us for all this.'' 
 Truly the philosophy of recompense seems to be 
 little understood. In moral affairs people seem 
 to expect recompense for privileges, as when 
 children, grown and uugrown, are told that they 
 will be revvarded for doing their duty ; and here 
 was a lady hoping for recompense for being car- 
 ried up a glorious mountain-side, in ease, cool- 
 ness, leisure and society all at once. If it was 
 recompense for the evil of inborn ennui that she 
 wanted, she was not likely to find it where she 
 was going to look for it. 
 
 After another level reach of road and an- 
 other scrambhng ascent I saw something on the 
 rocky platform above our heads, like (to compare 
 great things with small) an illumined fairy palace 
 perched among the clouds in opera scenery ; a' 
 large building, whose numerous window-lighta 
 marked out its figure from amid the thunder- 
 clouds and black twilight which overshadowed 
 it. It was now half-past eight o'clock, and a 
 stormy evening. Everything was chill, and w« 
 were glad of lights and tea in the first place. 
 
 After tea I went out* upon the platform in 
 front of the house, having been warned not to 
 go too near the edge, so as to ' fall an unmeasur- 
 ed deptlr into the forest below. I sat upon the 
 edge as a security against stepping over una- 
 wares. The stars were bright overhead, and 
 had conquered half the sky, giving promise of 
 what we ardently desired, a fine morrow. Over 
 the other half the mass of thunder-clouds was. I 
 supposed, heaped together, for I could at first 
 discern nothing of the campaign which I knew 
 must be stretched below. Suddenly and from 
 that moment incessantly, gushes of red lightning 
 poured out from the cloudy canopy, revealing 
 not merely the horizon, but the course of the 
 river, in all its windings through the valley. 
 This thread of river, thus illumhiated, looked 
 like a flash of lightning caught by some strong 
 
PIN'E ORCHARD HOUSE. 
 
 21 
 
 land and laid along in tlie valley. Al. the princi- 
 )al features of the landscape might, no doubt, 
 leave been discerned by this sulphurous light; 
 )ut my whole attention was .ibsorbed by the 
 iver, which seemed to come out of the darkness 
 ike an apparition at the summons of my impa- 
 ient will. It could be borne only for a short 
 ime ; this dazzling, bewildering alteration of 
 rlare and blackness, of vast reality and nothing- 
 less. I was soon glad to draw back from th<! 
 )recipice and seek the candlelight within. 
 
 The next day was Sunday. I shall never 
 brget, if I live to a hundred, how the world lay 
 it my feet one Sunday morning, i rose very 
 jarly, and looked abroad from my window, two 
 itories above the platform. A dense fog, exact- 
 y level with my eyes, as it appeared, roofed in 
 he whole plain of the earth; a dusky firmament 
 n which the stars had hidden themselves for the 
 lay. Such is the account which an antediluvian 
 spectator would probably have given of it. This 
 5olid firmament had spaces in it, however, through 
 r\'hich gushes of sunlight were poured, lighting 
 ip the spires of white churches, and clusters of 
 iarm buildings, too small to be otherwise distin- 
 iaiished ; and especially the river, with its sloops 
 ioating like motes in the sunbeam. The firma- 
 ment rose and melted, or parted otf into the 
 likeness of snowy sky mountains, and left the 
 :ool Sabbath to brood brightly over the land. 
 What human interest sanctifies a bird's-eye 
 view! I suppose this is its peculiar charm, for 
 its charm is found to deepen in proportion to the 
 growth of mind. To an infant, a campaign of 
 a hundred miles is not so much as a yard square 
 of gay carpet. To the rustic it is less bewitch- 
 ing than a paddock with two cows. To the phi- 
 losopher, what is it not ? As he casts his eye 
 over its glittering 'towns, its scattered hamlets, 
 its secluded homes, its mountain ranges, church 
 spires and untrodden forests, it is a picture of 
 life ; an epitome of the human universe ; the 
 complete volume of moral philosophy, for which 
 he has sought in vain in all libraries. On the left 
 horizon are the Green Mountains of Vermont, and 
 at the riglit extremity sparkles the Atlantic. Be- 
 neath lies the forest where the deer are hiding and 
 the birds rejoicing in song. Beyond the river he 
 sees spread the rich plains of Connecticut; there 
 where a blue expanse lies beyond the triple 
 range of hills, are the churches of religious Mas- 
 sachusetts sending up their Sabbath psalms • 
 praise which he is too high to hear, while God is 
 not. The fields and waters seem to him to-day 
 DO more truly property than the skies which 
 
 shine down upon them ; and to tliink how some 
 below are busying their thoughts this Sabbath- 
 day about how they shall hedge in another field, 
 or multiply thier flocks on yonder meadows, gives 
 him a taste of the same pity which Jesus felt in 
 his solitude when his followers were contending 
 about which should be the greatest. It seems 
 strange to him now that man siiould call any- 
 ♦.hing his but the power which is in him, and 
 which can create somewhat more vast and beau- 
 tiful than all that this horizon encloses. Here 
 he gains the conviction, to be never again shaken, 
 that all tliat is real is ideal ; that the joys and 
 sorrows of men do not spring up out of the 
 ground, or fly abroad on the wings of the wind, 
 or come showered down from the sky ; that 
 good cannot be hedged in, nor evil barred out , 
 even that light does not reach the spirit through 
 the eye alone, nor wisdom through tlie medium 
 of sound or silence only. He becomes of one 
 mind with the spiritual Berkeley, that the face 
 of Rjiture itself, the very picture of woods, and! 
 streams, and meadows, is a hieroglyphic writing 
 in the spirit itself, of which the retina is no inter- 
 preter. The proof is just below hinr, (at least it 
 came under my eye,) in the lady (not American) 
 who, after glancing over the landscape, brings 
 her chair into the piazza, and, turning her back 
 to the campaign, and her face to the wooden 
 walls of the hotel, begins the study, this Sunday 
 morning, of her lapfal of newspapers. What a 
 sermon is thus preached to him at tiiis moment 
 from a very hackneyed text ! To him Uiat hath 
 much ; that hath the eye, and ear, and wealth of 
 the spirit, shall more be given ; even a replenish- 
 ing of this spiritual life from tiiat vv^hich to others 
 is formless and dumb ; while from him that hath 
 little, who trusts in that which lies about Kim 
 rather than in that which lives within him, shall 
 be taken away, by natural decline, the power of 
 perceiving and enjoying what is within his own 
 domain. To him who is already enriched with 
 large divme and human revelations this scene is, 
 for all its stillness, musical with divine and hu- 
 man speech ; while one who has been deafened 
 by the din of worldly affairs can hear nothing in 
 this mountain solitude. 
 
 The march of the day over tlie valley was 
 glorious, and I was giieved to have to leave my 
 window for an expedition a few miles off". How- 
 ever, the expedition was a good preparation for 
 the return to my window. The little nooks of 
 the road, crowded with bilbOTries, cherries, and 
 Alpine plants, and the quiet tarn, studded with 
 golden Vvater-lilies, were a wholesome eontrasl 
 
22 
 
 THE CATTERSKILL FALLS. 
 
 to the grandeur of what we had left behind us. 
 On returnmg, we found dinner awaiting us, 
 and also a party of friends out of Massachusetts, 
 with whom we passed the afternoon, climbing 
 higher and higher among the pines, ferns, and 
 blue-berries of the mountain, to get wider and 
 wider viewj. . They told me that I saw Albany, 
 but I was by no means sure of it. This large 
 city lay in the landscape like an ant-hill in a mea- 
 dow. Long before sunset I was at my window 
 again, watching the gradual lengthening of the 
 sliadows and purpling of the landscape. It was 
 more beautiful than the sunrise of this morning, 
 and less so than that of the morrow. Of this 
 last I shall give no description, for I would not 
 weary otliers with what is most sacred to me. 
 Suffice it that it gave me a vivid idea of the pro- 
 cess of creation, from the moment wlien all was 
 without form and void, to that when hght was 
 commanded, and there was light. Here, again, 
 I was humbled by seeing what such things are 
 to some who watch in vain for what they are 
 not made to see. A gentleman and lady in the 
 hotel intended to liave left the place on Sunday. 
 Having overslept that morning's sunrise, and 
 arrived too late for that on Saturday, they were 
 persuaded to stay till Monday noon ; and I Avas 
 pleased, on rising at four on Monday morning, 
 to see that they were in the piazza below, with 
 a telescope. We met at breakfast, all faint with 
 hunger, of course. 
 
 "Well, Miss M." s.'iid the gentleman, discon/' 
 tentedly, " I suppose you were disappointed iv 
 the sunrise." 
 
 " No, I was not." 
 
 "Why, do you think tiie sun was any hand-- 
 somer here than at New-York ■?" 
 
 I made no answer; for what could one say 1 
 But he drove me by questions to tell what I ex- 
 pected to see in the sun. 
 
 " I did not expect to .see the sun green or 
 blue." 
 
 " What did you expect, then ?" 
 
 I was obliged to explain that it was the effect' 
 of the sun on the landscape that I had been 
 looking for. 
 
 " Upon the landscape ! Oh ! but we saw that 
 yesterday." ,_! 
 
 The gentleman was perfectly serious ; quitef' 
 earnest in all this. When we were departing, a ' 
 foreign tourist was heard to complain of the 
 high charges ! High charges ! As if we were 
 to be supplied for nothing on a perch where the 
 wonder is if any but the young ravens get fed !-r 
 When I considered what a drawback it is in visit- 
 ing mountain-tops that one is driven down again 
 almost innnediately by one's bodily wants, I was 
 ready to thank the people devoutly for harboring 
 us on any terms, so that we might think out our 
 thoughts, and compose our emotions, and take 
 our fill of that portion of our universal and eter- 
 nal inheritance. 
 
 THE CATTERSKILL FALLS, 
 
 BY WILLIAM C. BRYANT. 
 
 Midst greens and shades the Catterskill leaps 
 From cliirs where the wood-flower clings ; 
 
 All suniuiei- he moistens his venlant steeps 
 
 With the sweet light sprr>y of the mountaui springs; 
 
 And he sliakes the woods on the mountain side, 
 
 When ihey drip whh the rains of autumn tide. 
 
 Ijut when, in the forest bare and old, 
 
 The blast of December calls. 
 He builds, in the starlight clear and cold, 
 
 A place of ice where his toiTent falls, 
 With tun-et, and arch, and fi-etwork tair, 
 And pillars blue as the summer air. 
 
 For whom are those glorious chambers wrought. 
 
 In the cold imd cloudless night? 
 is there neither spirit nor motion of thought 
 
 In forms so lovely and hues so bright? 
 Hear what the grey-haired woodmen tell 
 Of this wild stream and its rocky dell. 
 
 'Twas here a youth of dreamy mood, 
 
 A hundred winters ago, 
 Had wandered over the mighty wood. 
 
 Where the panther's track was fiesh on the snow, 
 And keen were the winds that came to stir 
 The long dark boughs of the hemlock fir. 
 
 Too gentle of mien he seemed, and fair, 
 
 For a child of those rugged steeps; 
 His home lay low in the valley, where 
 
 The kingly Hudson rolls to the deeps; 
 But he wore the hunter's frock that day, 
 And a slender gim on his shoulder lay. 
 
 And here he paused, and against the trunk 
 
 Of a tall grey linden leai.t. 
 When the broad clear orb of the sun had suni 
 
 From his path in the frosty tirmament. 
 And over the round dark edge of the hill 
 A cold green light was quivering still. 
 
THK FOURTH AT PINE ORCHARD. 
 
 S3 
 
 And the creaccat uioon, hiyh over the jjieen, 
 
 From a sky of crimson shone, 
 On that icv paliico, where towers were seen 
 
 To sparkle ns if with stars of their own ; 
 While the water fell with a hollow sound 
 Twixt the glistming pillars ranged around. 
 
 Is that a being of life that moves 
 
 Where tho cr>-slal battlements rise ? 
 V maiden, watching the moon she loves, 
 
 At the twilight hour, with pensive eyes t 
 Wis that a garment which seemed to gleam 
 Bet vixt the eye and the falling stream 1 
 
 Tis o:ily the torrent tumbling o'er, 
 
 In the midst of those glassy walls, 
 •Pushing, and plunging, and beating the floor 
 
 Of the rocky basin in which it falls: 
 Tis only the torrent— but why that start ? 
 Why gazea the youth with a throbbing heart ? 
 
 He, thinks no more of his home afar, 
 
 Where hi? piro and sister wait ; 
 He heeds no longer how star after star 
 
 Looks forth on the night, as the hour grows late, 
 Ue heeds not the snow-wreath, lifted and cast 
 From a thousand boughs by the rising blast. 
 
 His thoughts are alone of those who dwell 
 
 In the halls of frost and snow. 
 Who pass where the crystal domes upswcll 
 
 From the nlabnster floors below. 
 Where the frost-trees bourgeon with leaf and spray, 
 And frost gems scatter a silvery day. 
 
 And oh that those glorious haunts were mine ! 
 
 Re speaks, and throughout the glen 
 lliet- shado^vs swim in tlie faint moonshine, 
 
 And take a ghastly likeness of men, 
 As if t\e slain by the wintry storms 
 Came fonh to the air in their earthly forms. 
 
 There pasothe chasers of seal and whale, 
 
 V/ith theii weapons quaint and grim. 
 And bands ol warriors in glimmering mail. 
 
 And herdsmen and hunters hiige of limb- 
 There are naked arms, with bow and spear. 
 And furry gauntlets the carbine rear. 
 
 '.'here are mothers— and oh, how sadly their eje« 
 
 On their children's white brows rest! 
 There ai-e youthful lovers — the maiden lies 
 
 In a seeming; sleep on the chosen breast ; 
 There are fair wan women with moon struck air, 
 The snow-stars flecking their long loose hair. 
 
 They eye him not as they pass along. 
 
 But his hair stands up with dread 
 When he feels that he moves with that phantom throng 
 
 Till those icy turrets are over his head, 
 And the torrent's roar, as they enter, seems 
 Like a drowsy murmur heard in dreams. 
 
 The glittering threshold is scarcely passed 
 When there gathers and wraps him round 
 
 A thick white twilight, sullen and vast, 
 In which there is neiher form nor sound ; 
 
 The phantoms, the glory, vanish all, 
 
 With the dying voice of the waterfall. 
 
 Slow passes the darkness of that trance, 
 
 And the youth now faintly sees 
 Huge shadows and gushes of light that dance 
 
 On a rugged ceiling of unhewn trees, * 
 And -walls where the skins of beasts are hung. 
 And rifles glitter, on antlers strung. 
 
 On a couch of shaggy skins he lies : 
 
 A.'i he strives to raise his head 
 Haid featured woodmen, with kitidly eyes 
 
 Come round him and smooth his furry bed, 
 And bid him rest, for the evening star 
 Is scarcely set, and the day is far. 
 
 They had found at eve the dreaming one 
 
 By the base of that icy steep. 
 When over his stiffening limbs begun 
 
 The deadly slumber of frost to creep ; 
 And they cherished the pale and breathless fana 
 Till the stagnant blood ran free and wann. 
 
 THB FOURTH AT PINE ORCHARD 
 
 BY MRS. ELLETT. 
 CATS KILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE. 
 
 How shall we escape the fourth of July? 
 How shall we fly from tie clamors of indepen- 
 dence — doubly horrible in he crowded city — the 
 crackers, torpedoes and guis ; the firing of can- 
 non and ringing of bells ; thtthrongings and yel- 
 ling and huzzas ; the flags aid processions and 
 exhibitions; the blazing fire-works that scare 
 \iight from her gentle office? There are hun- 
 dreds of places in the vicinity of New-York, 
 whither hundreds flock every da^, and the steam- 
 
 boats and rail-cars offer means of transportation 
 every hour; but they are within ear, alas! of the 
 booming and ringing ; and there will be no dark- 
 ness within sight of the illuminations ! Where 
 can we go " beyond Independence"' — we asked— 
 as earnestly as the wicked backwoodsman wish- 
 ed he could fly " beyond the Sabbath !" In good 
 truth, it were to be wished that our patriotic 
 fathers had been considerate enough not to se- 
 lect the very hottest day of the year for theii im- 
 
24 
 
 THE FOURTH AT PINE ORCHARD. 
 
 mortal declanation ! but then one of the greatest 
 philosophers I ever knew, said, men have no 
 energy or resolution but when the thermometer 
 is at ninety degrees. 
 
 But how to escape — for every village and 
 town in the Union is smitten with the like na- 
 tional enthusiasm. " Have you teen at the Cats- 
 kill Mountain House?" asked a friend inciden- 
 tally ; " our party is going to-morrow " — and the 
 important question was decided. The morning 
 of the third we set off in the Empire steamer. 
 This is the largest boat in the world, being a 
 .sixteenth of a mile in length — and has engines 
 of six hundred horse power. Its cabins are mag- 
 nificent, and it has a noble range of state-rooms 
 on the upper deck, where travellers can be as 
 quiet as in a drawing-room. After dinner we 
 landed at Catskill, at three in the afternoon. 
 Stages were ready to receive the passengers; 
 and besto\'\ing ourselves therein, we turned from 
 the village, crossed a fine wide stream called the 
 Catskill, and CTitered upon a country enchanting 
 enough to fill with rapture one long unaccustom- 
 ed to such varieties of scenery. Here were rich 
 valleys sprinkled with cottages and watered by 
 winding streams, whose course could be traced 
 far off by the luxuriance of the slirubbery on 
 their banks; there were cultivated fields, and 
 green meadows, and impervious woods; and 
 land now gently undulatir.g, now broken into 
 steep ascents and startling declivities. Occasion- 
 ally the road wound along a precipice, just steep 
 and high enough to be perilous and pleasant. 
 The vivid green of the foUage every where, and 
 the verdure of the meadows was most refreshing 
 to an eye accustomed of late to the barren 
 wastes of southern pine-lands. Here and there 
 you pass a picturesque dell ; one of them is filled 
 with the sound of a dist.ant Avaterfall, doubtless 
 worth a pilgrimage to see ; and frequently you 
 are arrested by the tiny voice of some adventu- 
 rous rill, flinging itself impetuously down the hill- 
 side, and hastening to its burial in the valley's 
 depths. Therange of mountains now rises high 
 and misty before you ; anon you skirt a gloomy 
 and fathomless valley, perfectly dark with ver- 
 dure. This is the Sleepy Hollow, commemorat- 
 ed by Irving. I looked to see a Rip Van Win- 
 kle emerge from its shades. It is said that one 
 of the oldest settlers in the region actually re- 
 members a strange person of that name ; doubt- 
 leas an inveterate sleeper, whose habits suggest- 
 ed a legend. Rolling on with the merciless ve- 
 locity of st.tge-coaches, we came to the spot 
 where th^ steep nscent commences; and here I 
 
 was fain, ^vitli many others, to alight and walk—, 
 dreading that in the climbing process No. 1 mighl 
 chance to f;xll back on No. 2 — No. 2 on No. 3 — 
 and so on. However, none but an habitual cow- 
 ard like myself need fear such a catastrophe ; ai 
 the vehicles are strongly built, and provided each 
 with a pointed bar of iron that would effectually 
 prevent any retrogi-ade motion. The winding 
 road, closely embowered with foliage, is here pic- 
 turesque in the extreme. Almost every town 
 brings some new beauty to view ; and the woods 
 are white with the blossoms of the Mountain 
 laurel, of which our party bore away numerous 
 trophies. The precipice on the right overhangs 
 the road, but the rocks are concealed by a bright 
 mantle of green. The mountain towers into still 
 grander elevation as you ascend it, and is fast 
 darkening with the shadows of evening, though 
 the plain still lies in sunshine. Suddenly a turn 
 places you in sight of the house, which is the 
 termination of your journey. It is seen directly 
 overhead, perched on the very brink of the 
 frowning precipice, like the eagle's or the lam- 
 mergeyer's nest, or some feudal castle on its foe- 
 defying height. This, indeed, it would resemble, 
 were it of gray stone, instead of being built oi 
 wood, and painted white. Nevertheless, its 
 snowy whiteness contrasts perhaps the more 
 beautifully with the green woods from the 
 bosom of which it seems to rise, and A'ith the 
 mountainous back ground. The road by which 
 that elevation is gained is very tortucu'^, so that 
 a considerable space must be passed ov<5r before 
 you come to the plateau on whi«h th^ house 
 stands. This plain lies in an an;phithe^tre be- 
 tween two mountains. It is calltxl Pine Or'hard, 
 because it was formerly covered with a g*owth 
 of small pines, which are nov removed, h.'>»'ing 
 been sacrificed to enhance .'he beauty of ^le 
 spot, and encoura;q^e the gi6wth of clover a-^d 
 grass, that fills the open spjce between the be^ 
 of solid rock. The "Mountain House" is a 
 large and in-egular buildijg, having been built in 
 different parts at differeit times. The more re- 
 cent portion was erected in 1824. It is spacious 
 enough to accommodaV a very large number of 
 guests; having double and triple rows of goodly 
 dormitories, all of a /)etter size, and more com- 
 fortably furnished, tltm the sleeping rooms usu- 
 ally appropriated to.ira^-ellers at the fashionable 
 watering places. 7'he drawing-rooms are spa- 
 cious; the principal one consisting of three large 
 saloons opening ifrto each other, or rather form- 
 ino- one. The diAing-room is large enough for a 
 feudal banquettilg hall, its effect being increased 
 
THK FOUKTH AT ri.VK OKCIIARD. 
 
 25 
 
 by a raflfje of pillars lor the whole length down 
 the centre ; and these pillars lire wreathed with 
 evergreens, while between the numerous win- j 
 dows stand lieinlock or cedar trees during the ' 
 season, quite in baronial taste. As fiir as I know, 
 this style of embellishment is unique ; it is cer- 
 tainly very picturesque. 
 
 The evening shadows now stretch over the 
 entire plain, and the quiet of the scene, after the 
 day's bustle, invites to sweet repose, which the 
 guests are fain to seek, after the good appetites 
 created by the drive of twelve miles, and the 
 fresh mountain ;ur, have been satisfied by the ex- 
 cellent supper provided by Mr. Beach, the enter- 
 prising landlord. Here is an almost wasteful 
 profusion of strawberries, and the other fruits of 
 the season, freshly picked by the mountaineers, 
 with cream and butter that does ample justice to 
 the rich pasturage of this region. 
 
 In llic morning, go to the front, and what a 
 scene presents itself! The " House " stands on 
 the table rock, a few yards from the sheer verge 
 — an elevation of eighteen hundred feet above 
 the apparent plain, and twenty-seven hundred 
 above the level of the river. There is a narrow 
 strip of green just in front, under the long and 
 capacious piazza, beautifully ornamented with 
 young fir and cedar trees, and a variety of shrubs. 
 Then comes a strip of bare rock, overlooking the 
 awful abyss. 
 
 A sea of woods is at your feet, but so far 
 below, that the large hills seem but slight heav- 
 ings of the green billowy mass ; before you lies 
 a vast landscape, stretching far as the eye can 
 take in the picture; a map of earth with its 
 fields, its meadows, its forests, and its villages 
 and cities scattered in the distance ; its streams 
 and lakes diminished, like the dwellings of man, 
 into insignificance. Through the midst winds 
 the sweeping river, the mighty Hudson, lessened 
 to a rill ; or it might be likened to a riband laid 
 over a ground of gi'oen. Still further on are the 
 swelling uplands, and then far along the horizon, 
 mountains piled on mountains, melting into the 
 distance, rising range above range till the last 
 and loftiest fades into the blue of the sky. Over 
 this magnificent panorama the morning sun 
 pours a, misty radiance, half veiling, yet adding 
 to its beauty, and tinting the Hudson with silver. 
 Here and tliere the bright river is dotted w^ith 
 sails, and sometimes a steamboat could be seen 
 winding itr? apparently slow way along. The 
 f'louds that flir^ their fitful shadows over the 
 country below are oh a level with us dwellers 
 of the air ; the golden patches that occupy the 
 
 higher regions of atmosphere seem tiul a fe« 
 feet above us, and we beyond iheir .sphere, 
 st^inding in mid air, looking down on so uiirival- 
 led a picture, to tiiank Heaven for the glory and 
 beauty of earth — even the birds seldom soar 
 higher than our feet; the resting-place of the 
 songster, whose flight can no longer be traced 
 from the plain, is still far below us. We seem 
 like the bell immortalized by Schiller — 
 
 " In Heaven's pa%-iUon hung on higti, 
 " The neighbors of the rolling thunder, 
 "The limits of the star-world nigh " 
 
 After contemplating this gorgeous scene, this 
 still life of the busy world till lost in admiration, 
 and listening to the ceaseless but faint roar sent 
 up fi'ora the forest, like the chime of the eternal 
 ocean, the next thing yon will do will be to take 
 a carriage to the Catskill Falls, distant abou' 
 tiv.ee miles. The road is rough, 'wild and rocky; 
 but beautifully picturesque. The niouutains 
 forming the buck-ground of this scene are half- 
 covered with shadows from the clouds, which 
 present the appearance of gorges on their sides, 
 and are continually changing their form, and 
 shifting as the breezes blow. The highest peak 
 is said to be four thousand three hundred feet 
 above the level of the river. They are distin- 
 guished by various names, such as R.mnd Top, 
 Indian's Head, &;c. On the road, which is wind- 
 ing, and embowered by close woods, you cross 
 a small mountain stream that soon expands into 
 a perfect gem of a lake, quite embosomed in the 
 circling hills, covered with a growth of straight, 
 giant-like pines, rising range above range to the 
 summits, where the tallest stand in relief against 
 the sky. At a distance of more than a quarter 
 of a mile from the Falls, you alight from the 
 carriages, and walk along the romantic road, ad- 
 miring at every step, or stopping to gather the 
 abundant variety of wild flowers. Tiie beauty 
 of this woodland path bafl^es all description. It 
 conducts to the Pavilion, situated at the top of 
 the fall, and directly overhanging the abj^ss. On 
 the end of the platform you are close upon the 
 water, hastening to precipitate itself over the 
 rock on which you stand, and tumbling into the 
 wildest ra%'ine ever poet dreamed of The height 
 of this fall is one hundred and c-'git'.y feet; a 
 second just below is eighty feet, but from the 
 height it seems a mere step the playful stream is 
 taking, to dash itself in rapids a little farther on, 
 and then be lost to sight in the thick foliage 
 overgrowing the bottom of the gorge. Three 
 mountains here intersecV each other; and the 
 overlapping of their sides conceal the bed of the 
 
26 
 
 THE FOURTH AT PINE ORCHARD. 
 
 Stream, so buried thiit a ^;e« of woods alone is 
 visible. You descend by h path in the woods, 
 and by staircases fi.xed in the " precipitous, black 
 jagged rocks." The vicv; lVo(n difterent points 
 of the ravine, find the perpendicular wall forming 
 its sides, is borh splendid and sublime. When 
 about lialf-way from tlie bottom of the lirst fidl, 
 the path tnrns aside, and enters a spacious ca- 
 vern, wholly behind the falling sheet. 'J'he sides 
 and roof nre of solid gray rock, and the roof pro- 
 jects seventy feet, though in some phices it is so 
 low that it cannot be passed under without 
 stooping. The path is consequently sheltered, 
 thougii but a foot in width — a mere shelf on the 
 veroe of a precipice, so narrow as to be quite in- 
 visible to those without. It is somewhat " on 
 tlie plan" of that to Termination Rock behind 
 the falling ocean at Niagara, and really gives an 
 idea of that stupendous place, barring the thun- 
 ders and the world of waters. A fine view is 
 here obtained of the falling sheet, which appears 
 mucii larger and broader; while the sides of the 
 ravine, and the dense forest seen through the 
 showery curtain, present a scene beautiful be- 
 yond description. Having emerged on the other 
 side, you descend quite to the bottom, and cross 
 the chafed stream by stepping on fragments of 
 rock. Here is a noble view ; and the quantity 
 of water is suddenly increased by opening the 
 dam above, so that its roar fills the gorge. Again 
 you descend by the steep path, and a succession 
 of staircases, fifty feet below the foot of fall se- 
 cond, and cross near a small but furious rapid. 
 From the large flat rock liere [it is maintained 
 to be the very rock on which Rip Van Winkle 
 slept his long sleep — but there are different opi- 
 nions as to the fact, and doubtless as many 
 claimants exist for the sleeping-place of that 
 worthy, as for the birth-pkice of Homer] you 
 obtain the finest view of all. It is three hundred 
 and ten feet below the Pavilion. The whole 
 castt Hated amphitheatre is before you; and a 
 succession of falls, with a wall of foliage and 
 rocks on either side, ascending fiir upward, so as 
 to shut out all but a narrow strip of blue sky, 
 seen overhead, and just above the top of fall 
 first. Over this opening golden patches of 
 clouds are sailing, and seem almost to rest upon 
 It. Once more the quantity of water is increas- 
 ed; the tuUs swell to larger volume, and the 
 clouds of sunny spray rise and fill the amphi- 
 theatre ; then melt away as before, while the faP 
 assumes its former thread-like ai^pearance. Th( 
 people walking within the cavern, just visibli 
 through the spray, look spectral enougJi, espe 
 
 cially as they seem t(, have some secret of theii 
 own for clinging to the rocky wall, no path being 
 apparent. It would require but little stretch of 
 imagination to suppose them children of the 
 mist, or genii of tlie waterfall, particularly that 
 light, fragile figure, whose floating white robe 
 contrasts so wildly with tlie dark mass behind 
 her. What a scene for deeds of romance and 
 heroism ! I warrant me many a declaration has 
 been made in that thrilling spot; and would ad- 
 vise any fair lady who would bring a hesitating 
 lover to confession, to lead him hither for the in- 
 spiration he needs. Some instances of success 
 on both sides, I could mention ; and could relate 
 one or two romantic tales, but they must be 
 postponed to another occasion. Below, for a 
 little way, the eye can follow the stream; and 
 our guide told us that a qmirter of a mile further 
 were other small falls. The path is wild and 
 rough along the stream, but would doubtless 
 well reward the exploration. You ascend by 
 the same way, winding through the cavern to the 
 •Pavilion, where the American flag, and the re- 
 ports of a gun or two reverberating among the 
 mountains, somewiiat startlingly reminded us of 
 the Fourth ; not so keenly, however, as to de- 
 stroy the enchantment of this "spirit-stirring 
 nook." The sound of a bugle in the distant 
 forest restored the poetry of the scene at once, 
 notwithstanding the presence of numbers of 
 country people in their holiday attire — shirts 
 sleeves — the costume of the American peasan- 
 try. To add a little incident in character, one of 
 our party hooked up with an umbrella from the 
 bu.shes a maimscript, illustrating the beauties of 
 the scene in very blank verse. 
 
 Returning by the carriages over the same 
 road, the gorgeous still-life view from the table- 
 rock awaited us ; the ocean landscape ; the dis- 
 tant river silvered by the sunshine ; the moun- 
 tains melting into ether. 
 
 Visiters at Catskill mountain do not usually 
 give themselves time to see even what they do 
 see to the best advantage. Many of them remain 
 but a single day ; paying only a hurried visit to, 
 the falls, and neglecting many other scenes, 
 almost equal in interest. There are numerous 
 lovely walks in the vicinity, chief among which 
 are those upon the South and North mountain;- 
 and the beautiful lake in the immediate neigh- 
 borhood of the House is said to abound in fish, 
 affording amusement to those fond of the sport, 
 with boats for rowing or sailing-parties. There 
 is said also to be an ice-glen some miles distant, 
 into the depths of which the sun never penot. 
 
THK FOUKTH AT iM .\ K OUCHAllD. 
 
 27 
 
 tniles, ;tnil where k-e iiuiy be found deposited by 
 nil the winters since tlie creution. 
 
 The wiilk upon North mountain I found par- 
 ticularly interesting. For some distance you 
 follow the winding road, tiu'ough woods certain- 
 ly richer than ever grew on siicli a height before, 
 with a great deal of impervious underwood, em- 
 bellished with wild l].)wers. The moss grows 
 here in sucli abundance as every whereto attract 
 attention. At the falls it jjartially covers the 
 rock beside the cavr-rn, and is of the most vivid 
 green. Near the foot of the lake is a mass of 
 rock, twelve or fifteen feet in iieight, perfectly 
 covered with gray lichen. The boulders on the 
 mountain are almost hidden by the ancient-look- 
 ing shroud ; and the various growths might form 
 a study for the naturalist. Leaving the road for 
 the mountain path, you begin the ascent, and 
 skirt the frowning precipice, where a single false 
 step would be destruction. Far, far below is the 
 same extensive, billowy verdure — the primitive 
 forest. Now you climb" a rude staircase of piled 
 stones, tlien wind through the deep woods, 
 vv^here wanderers would inf;illibly be lost without 
 a guide, and where the guide himself finds it 
 hard to thread the tangled maze. Several points 
 where a fine view may be seen claim your atten- 
 tion, as now and then you come forth on the 
 rocky verge ; but the cry is still " onward," and, 
 like all others of the human race who never 
 weary of pursuing a promised good, you perse- 
 vere till the actual summit, by toil and trouble, 
 is reaclved at last. And splendid is. the reward ! 
 So vast is the height on which you stand, that 
 the "Mountain House," with its lakes, itself ap- 
 pears upon a plain. In clear weather the view 
 is almost boundless, including Albany on one 
 hand, the Highlands on the other ; but jnst then 
 I witnessed a still grander phenomenon, realizirg 
 the beauty of Hallcck's lines descriptive of Wee- 
 hawk — 
 
 "Clouils slumbering at hi.-i foet, and the clear blue 
 '■ Of summer'a sky in beauty bendiiig o'er him." 
 
 The clouds were not exactly slumbering, but 
 rolling' in heavy masses below ' us, shrouding 
 completely the more distant portions of the land- 
 scape, while a thick mist rendered indistinct the 
 scene immediately beneath. I cannot say we were 
 altogether in the enjoyment of " the clear blue of 
 summer's sky;" for the top of the mountain just 
 behind- us was enveloped in clouds, and only here 
 and there narrow strips of the sky could be dis- 
 cerned ; but we were " mickle better aff " than the 
 seeming plain, on which a fierce rain was evi- 
 dently pouring. Ere long, however, and while 
 
 storm and darkness yet brooded on tiie region;* 
 ! below, the mists rolled away from the sunmiii 
 ! and melted at tlie presence of tlie sun, the hea- 
 '' vens looked fortii blue and clear as ever, and the 
 i rain-drops on tlie trees glanced in the pure sun- 
 ! siiine. Then the vapory veil beneatli us was 
 rent and rolled ])ack ; part of the landscape re- 
 joiced once more in the living light! The sun 
 pierced the dark curtain beyond; it was lifted, 
 and gradually withdrawn ; the glancing river and 
 the distant mountains came into bright view 
 once more ; and ere long no tniee of the storm 
 could be I'ound, save in the dense masses of 
 cloud that mingled with the mountains on the 
 farthest verge of the horizon. 
 
 I would not have missed this spectacle, new 
 and surpassingly glorious as it was, for the 
 world. But one even more sti-iking can be seen, 
 I am told, during a sudden thunder-shower. The 
 clouds then fill the lower regions of the atmos- 
 piiere, and roll dense and dark beneath, like 
 ocean-waves tossed by the blast; the lightning 
 leaps from space to space, and the thunder peals 
 wildly around, while "the dwellty- in air" sees 
 naught above him but a blue sunbright sky. 
 The clearing up of a storm seen under these 
 circumstances must be sublime beyond imagina- 
 tion, and well worth a journey to the Mountain 
 House expressly to see. 
 
 Some of our party regretted that the house 
 had not been built on the table-rock of North 
 mountain ; but tlie ditficulty of access, and the 
 impossibility of coming up with stages, would, 
 in such a case, have limited the number of visi 
 ters to a few. The present location is the most 
 eligible in every respect. 
 
 After the descent our guide directed us to a 
 rocky footpath, instead of the winding road to 
 the house. It required some toil and climbing, 
 but well repaid the exertion. 
 
 The ascent to the South mountain is equally 
 beautiful. The path leads fium the plateau to 
 the left up tlie steep acclivity, through a wild 
 forest, less tangled, however, than the other, 
 where huge boulders, gray with moss, are piled 
 fantastically around; some poised on a single 
 edge, and looking as if the slightest force would 
 precipitate them downward to crush the woods 
 in their patli ; some without apparent founda- 
 tion, resting on points unseen, and presenting 
 shallow but extensive caverns, the probable 
 abode of reptiles, and green with rank moisture. 
 Trees grow on their sides and in the clefts, and 
 you wonder whence their nourishment is deriv- 
 ed ; they seem, in truth, to have a partiality fci 
 
2t' 
 
 A SEPTEMBER TRIP TO CATSKILL. 
 
 the rugged soil, and frequently send their roots 
 far down the rock to seek the humid earth. The 
 fir, the cedar, and silver pine, so much more 
 beautiful than the southern pine, abound here, 
 with a vast variety of deciduous trees. The in- 
 numerable crevices are filled with green moss. 
 The ascent becomes yet more steep, and pre- 
 sently you enter a narrow rift, from which the 
 party, one by one, emerge above, and seem as if 
 ascending out of the eartli. The shadow of the 
 overhanging cliffs renders this spot ever cool and 
 fresli, even in the hottest part of the summer-day. 
 On the summit are three points usually visited 
 by travellers, from which a gorgeous view may 
 be obtained. On one the huge fraginent of rock 
 is, to all appearance, entirely separated from the 
 mountiiin ; it is really, however, fast united be- 
 low, or it would, long ere this, have plunged from 
 its place into the abyss. I must not forget to 
 mention that there is a plateau on both these 
 mountains covered with short pines which has 
 obtained the name of Pine Orchard. The pio- 
 neer who erected the first building ou the moun- 
 tain pointed oi^t to us the spot where he slept, 
 wrapt in his great coat, under a rocky shelter, 
 the first niglit he passed in this neigliborhood. 
 
 From the tliird and highest point the view is 
 the best. Here, besides tlie dark ridge of forest 
 and the ocean landscape, a new range of moun- 
 tains can be discerned fir southward, and several 
 towns on the Hudson. 
 
 There is a beautiful drive in the vicinity, en- 
 joyed by few among the visiters to the Mountain 
 House, which, however, should be neglected by 
 none. It is on what is called the Clove road, 
 leading through a cleft in the mountain south- 
 ward. Descending by the travelled road three 
 or four miles, passing the weird valley of Sleepy 
 Hollov/, where, in a dreamy nook, under the 
 
 towering mountains, you will find the picture of 
 old Rip at his waking, hung up as a sign to a 
 rude-looking house of refreshment ; and pursu- 
 ing the road a little beyond the toll-gate, you 
 turn aside to the right, and follow the road along 
 the foot of tlie precipice on which the house 
 stands. Ere long you turn again to the right, 
 and presently find yourself in a mountain defile, 
 where surprise and delight at the wondrous scene 
 accompany you on every step onward. The 
 mountains rise abruptly on either side almost to 
 the clouds ; the primeval forest is around you ; 
 and the depths of the gorge, which is sometimes 
 narrow and cavernous, are filled by a bawling- 
 mountain stream, the same Cauterskille that takes 
 the leap down the f;\lls above. For two or three 
 miles this scene of beauty and grandeur, varying 
 every moment, meets your e3-e ; now the stream 
 ! runs over its bed of rocks, now dashes wildly in 
 rapids, now runs smootWy for a space ; while the 
 road winds on its verge, sometimes far above it, 
 sometimes descending nearly to its level. After 
 passing through the cleft you ascend the moun- 
 tain and return to the house, having made a cir- 
 cuit of twelve miles. 
 
 To those who have leisure for enjoyment of 
 country air and scenery, and for exploring the 
 wild and numerous beauties of this region, I 
 would recommend a residence of weeks at Pine 
 Orchard. The mountain is fresh and invigor- 
 ating, and always cool in the sultriest season. 
 Tlie rapid succession of visiters, presenting new 
 faces every day, is rather an objection to those 
 who have a taste for the society of watering- 
 places ; but I see no reason why the Castkill 
 Mountain-House slionld not, when its resources 
 are better known, be a place of fiishionable re- 
 sort, during all the hot season, for summer tr». 
 vellers. e. f. e. 
 
 A SEPTEMBER TRIP TO CATSKILL. 
 
 FROM THE AMERICAN MONTHLY MAGAZINE, 183' 
 
 Grand exceedingly are the hills of Catskill, 
 and noble supporters to tlie blue dome that sits 
 so lightly on their architrave. Absorbing be- 
 yond belief is an undisturbed contemplation of 
 the forests that cover tiieir valleys. You feel 
 as if the curtain of time was raised, and you 
 
 looked upon eternity. Sweet beyond parallel 
 is the map of the valley of the Hudson as you 
 look down from the table-rock in front of the 
 Mountain House, .md dally with the topmost 
 tendrils of the hemlock that finds root a hundred 
 and fifty feet below you. Fantastic beyond 
 
A SKl'XKMBKll TUIP TO CATSKILL. 
 
 29 
 
 tonooption aru tlivi goss^imer veils that wreath 
 and circle around the rugged brow of the hill at 
 yodr left, now chispiiig his old forehead with its 
 misty coroj.al, then lifting, with the sportive 
 grace of a lay. its vapory circlet far above the 
 discarded object of its late caresses, until weary 
 of its upward flight, it sinks drooping and deject- 
 ed into the valley beneath. 
 
 Started for the Mountain House, we made 
 our iirst halt at Van Bergen's, tlie spot where I 
 suppose the Royal George had once supplied 
 the wherewithal to moisten the husky effects of 
 the pipe of the immortal sleeper; and the old 
 pine tree, by the side of the spring, against 
 which Rip used to rest his gun as he scooped up 
 the clear waters, of his mountain well, was a 
 fluted column of the same dimensions of some 
 dozen otiiors that ranged on tlie side walk as 
 supporters to the piazzas of the rival hotels. 
 
 " Un tres petit chien celn," said the gentleman 
 opposite me to his foir companion, as he pointed 
 to a diminutive specimen of the canine genus 
 that was flying and yelping, tail couchant, from 
 the broom-stick attacks of an enraged woman in 
 the opposite shop door. That shop was built 
 upon the very spot that was pnce shaded by 
 " the Oak." May the Lord forgive the sacrile- 
 gious heedlessness of my countrymen ' 
 
 The sun had advanced somewhat in the Occi- 
 dent as we passed through the brickyards that 
 skirt the borders of the town, and after a half 
 hour's drive we alighted at Bait Bloom's hotel. 
 1 had never been far westward, but I imagined 
 the scene presented was worthy a soil a thou- 
 sand miles nearer the setting sun. 
 
 Two strapping youths were standing at the 
 entrance of the tavern in an animated discussion 
 about the " comin' election," and as the elder of 
 tlie two .dropped the butt of his gun upon the 
 broad tee of liis boot, and thrust both arms half 
 way to the elbow into the side pockets of his 
 velveteen hunting-coat, (his right arm forming a 
 circular rest for the ban-el,) I observed the 
 strong expression of vexation on his counte- 
 nance as he lamented " that the chap who could 
 fill a game bag hke that which hung by the side 
 of his companion, could vote for the Petticoat 
 caiv4idate," as he was pleased to style the Hero 
 
 of Tippicanoc. tie turned as he saw strangers 
 coming, and while one foot was resting upon 
 the primitive floor of the bar-room, he brought 
 his rifle to a sight, and with his left eye closed 
 as if ready fur aim, he turned his head around to 
 the bar when the other discovered the object ol 
 its search. 
 
 '• Bait Bloom," said the sportsman, " what'll 
 you take for a shot at that cock that's struttin' 
 yonder as big as any member of Congress I" 
 
 '• Three shillinV' sung out a shrill, sharp voice 
 from an inner apartment. It sounded like the 
 echo of one of Dame Van Winkle's highest 
 notes, that had been wandering among these 
 hills since tiie day its owner had been called to 
 torment the shades of poor Rip and his dog. 
 
 " Crack," answered the rifle almost as shnlly, 
 
 " He's as dead as Julius Ceesar," coolly re- 
 marked the sportsman, as he chased some coins 
 about his pocket to pay for this cheap gratifica- 
 tion of his vanjty as a shot at a hundred yards. 
 
 The wave-like sound of the gong floated up- 
 ward from hall to hall through the Mountain 
 House, and our party of three were all that 
 answered it (the season had closed) in doing 
 honor to the creature comforts that paid tribute 
 to the keen mountain air that had assailed our 
 appetites. 
 
 When the hist eg^ had disappeared I found 
 leisure to talce a peep at the appointments of the 
 place. 
 
 A solitary lamp glimmered on the table, and 
 its feeble rays made the gloora which hovered 
 around the columns that supported the immense 
 apartment but more shadowey. The couple 
 opposite me were one in every sense, save cor- 
 poreally ; therefore the darkness of Tartarus 
 would have been sunshine to them. For myself, 
 the leaden gloom was oppressive. The ebon 
 statue at the head of the table stood so motion- 
 less that I shuddered. A sense of loneliness — 
 a desolate retreat of the heart — the eye moistens 
 if you tliink of your hearthstone — an indeserib 
 able something we have all felt some time or' 
 other, crept over me. I courted the friendly 
 companionship of a fire that was blazing in the 
 drawing-room, but the wind moaned piteously 
 around the peaks of the pine orchard in their 
 attempts to keep off the dtjer from its coronal ; 
 but a return spark of the sensation was fanned 
 by the sighing breeze, and the solitude of the 
 immense apartment gave it a shrine to bum 
 upon. Who has not felt this at midnight, when 
 
30 
 
 A SEPTK.MBIiR TRIP TO CATSKILL. 
 
 the onh- iciuiiit of such ;i place as the Mountain. 
 House, a solitary eoiiimunicaiit with it^■. unbrok- 
 en stillness ? , 
 He imagines that he is th.e last represeiita- ! 
 tive of his race, and the sensation sweeps over 
 the cords of his heart like the faint breeze upon I 
 the loosened strings of an yEolean harp. It whis- 
 pers sadly ; one does i.ot feel this if he has the 
 fellowsliip of nature, though the throb of his 
 o\v)i bosom may have been the first that ever 
 broke upon the virgin silence of the place. He 
 feels that God is the architect, and lives liimself 
 a v.'orshipper in 
 
 " That Caihcdral boundless as our wonder, 
 
 •' Whose qu'i'nchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; 
 
 " Its cliou- the winds and waves, its organ, thunder, 
 " lis dome, the sl;y." 
 
 [The writer's description of the prospect is oinittcd.] 
 
 It was a breezy September day that smil- 
 ingly escorted us to the " Falls of the Kauters- 
 kDl." We stood upon the extremity of the 
 scaffolding that has been erected for the use of 
 tlie visiters and tlie profit of its owner, and 
 while listening to the lullaby of the Fall, which 
 sent its gentle music up from the pool hito which 
 the tiny brooklet fell, we looked down upon the 
 sea of foliage that waved before us. As far as 
 the eye could reach, until it blended with the 
 horizon, lay the interminable forest. The first 
 breath of autumn had whispered the warning of 
 its wintry monitor, and the golden dye of the 
 alchymist mingled with tlie gorgeous coloring 
 of an autumnal sun-set. It was an hour to 
 dream in, and the imagination of the young wife 
 who leaned upon the arm of her husband, settled 
 upon the wings of a golden vapor that slumber- 
 ed within ten feet of her, and, mounting in its 
 arial car, pursued its flight four thousand miles 
 from the spot where she stood. 
 
 The effect produced by every waterfall upon 
 
 the beholder varies witii tlie lime, season ana 
 attendant circumstances, more than one will 
 suppose when considering their distinctly mark- 
 ed character. With Niagara, though at all times 
 the spirit is bowed down with the awe which its 
 grandeur imposes, this is as true as with the 
 smallest cascade in the land ; and for years after, 
 even while the thunders from the eternal organ 
 of the former are sounding in our ears, a ludi- 
 crous scene at a breakfast-table may ever be as- 
 sociated \vith the memory of its sublimity. The 
 Kauterskill, upon that bright evening, (and the 
 comparison was not far-fetched,) I likened to a 
 stately queen, upon whose face sorrow had left 
 the traces of its visitation. I doffed my hat to 
 the waterfall in most respectful admiration ; but 
 the glen, the crimson and the orange leaf float- 
 ing in the pool, subdued me, and the first whis- 
 perings of the season breathed a melancholy 
 story of their fall. 
 
 From the table-rock we went under tho fcii. 
 sheltered by a rocky ceiling, upon whose dome 
 the moss of centuries had collected a verdant 
 livery ; and, while protected by this adamantine 
 roof, anotlier opportunity was offered for a sur- 
 vey of that unrivalled forest, with its foreground 
 guarded by a bow of rotary crystal, whose organ 
 \\Si& fitting music for this mountain cathedral. 
 Opposite our first position, we could look from 
 the first to the second fall, which throws itself- 
 eighty feet into the ravine below, and listen to 
 the deep murmurs of the river as it rolled away 
 in the secrecy of its leafy shield. A sunbeam 
 never danced upon its ripple, so sheltered is it. 
 
 Contemplative reader ! Go to Catskill in 
 September, when the mountain air will give you 
 an appetite for the creature comforts of the 
 Mountain House ; when you will not be jostled 
 by the unthinking crowd, who go there because 
 it is fashionable ; when the deep verdure of its 
 woods is relieved by a rainbow here and there ; 
 and when, if you will not complain of the com- 
 pany, I will greet you a welcome at the table, 
 rock. ^' ^ ^ 
 
CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE. 
 
 It £,1 not to be presumed tluit every thing has been described, connected with this interesting pla^i Phi 
 chance visiter only sees what arises while he is there. Tt requires many visits to see one half of the 
 natural wonders. The following, it /■•>■ snpposed are worthy of notice; though only a stray leaf from 
 a private journal. — Editor. 
 
 We arrivod at •• tlie House" in a most un- 
 favorable time for seeing any thing, and were 
 strongly tempted to return immediately. It was 
 just that kind of sky whieh below gives the 
 " blues." The dreary, dense mist that enveloped 
 the entire range, was mournful ; and, as the 
 wind blew from the northeast, there was no 
 prospect of the sky being cleared till the New- 
 foundland banks had exchanged these vapoury 
 sheets for a robe of sunshine. The cloud was 
 as damp as clouds are any where that I have 
 known. I have heard of Lapland fogs, and had 
 felt Scotch mists, but this was equal to any of 
 these for its penetrating quality. Starch and 
 gum shrunk into mom-nful, skin-like flaccidily ; 
 and to use the inelegant expression of a fellow 
 vieiiter, whose sobriquet was " Tom," " Kate's 
 ringlets were no more like seraph's loclcs than 
 ojd Bay's tail." 
 
 It was in vain that we tied from tiie outside 
 of the house to the inside, as the cloud went 
 with the air, and a perfect vacuum was impos- 
 sible. Chairs, tables, mantel-pieces, stood in 
 dewey beads, and even the beds had tiiat sticky 
 touch you feel at the " Ocean House " after two 
 days stormy weather. Though there was a con- 
 stant fire kept up in the parlor, it did not, to 
 us, the " new arrived," exhibit that bliss which a 
 kindled liearth presents to the youthful imagina- 
 tion anticipating the marriage-day. 
 
 Still, notwithstiinding those gloomy signs, 
 rJie group that was gathered round the fire was 
 a pleasant party. Tliero was first a middle-aged 
 man with an intelligent face, vv'ho looked quietly 
 up from his book at us ; and next him sat a lady 
 who was knitting ; and there was a young lady 
 with a clear glad eye, smiling at the frolics of a 
 young man who was teazing two children. I 
 found out that this was a party from Boston, im- 
 proving a " vacation." 
 
 A lugubrious looking man here stepped up, 
 and with the most rueful looking countenance 
 declared, that " Tliis was awful ! I came here," 
 said he, "a week ago, all the way from Cape 
 Cod, for the sole object of getting a look, and 
 here I have oeen nothing ; and to be laughed at 
 in the bargain." " I shall not back," said " Tom," 
 •' without my .story. I have seen something worth 
 telling." "And pray what shall you tell tliera 
 
 tnat you saw .'" said llie sad man;" exctpt across 
 the dinner-table; and scarcely that far, if I may 
 guess from your good judgment on cookery." 
 " Why," said " Tom," with perfect vonchalance, 
 " I shall tell them, I have seen the greatest fog 
 that I have ever seen in my life !" " And, ray 
 dear sir," said the gentleman with the book, 
 "you can now preach from that text, 'All bap- 
 tized in the cloud;'"'' '-Or that other one," said 
 the lady, " being compassed about with so great 
 a cloud of witnesses." 
 
 Now thought I, there may be more in thi.i 
 
 darkness than was dreamed of in my first pliilo- 
 
 j sophy. I will remain, and perhaps I may catch 
 
 some of the inspiration from this happy family 
 
 After dinner general contentment prevailed 
 even the gloomy man smiled ; and I found my 
 self trying to solve the question, whether the air 
 though tliick and misty, was not light at this 
 height, and consequently more congenial to 
 cheerfulness of mind. But I was disturbed in 
 my cogitations by a buzz among the guests near 
 the door ; and all I could hear was that the house 
 was " going past on the outside." A waiter was 
 quieting an old lady by telling her that all was 
 quite firm at the foundations, for it was built on 
 a rock. 
 
 We were all on the piazza in a few minutes, 
 and there, sure enough, was the perfect image 
 of the vast building, plainly impressed upon a 
 thicker cloud than the general envelope that had 
 covered us. It was a great mass of vapor, mov- 
 ing from north to south, directly in front, and 
 only about two hundred feet from us, which re- 
 flected the light of the sun, now beginning to 
 appear in the west, from its bosom, like a mirror, 
 in which the noble Corinthian pillars, which form 
 the front of the building, were expanded like 
 some palace built by the Titans for the enter- 
 tainment of their antediluvian guests. I had read 
 of Catherine of Russia's famous palace of ice, 
 all glittering with the gorgeousness that now 
 beautifies the ICremlin; and how frequently that 
 is produced, as emblematic of human glory ; but 
 here was something that more than recalled my 
 early impressions of Alladtn's Jiimp, or of the 
 magician's wand. 
 
 The visionary illusion was moving with the 
 cloud, and ere long we saw one pillar disappeai^ 
 
82 
 
 CASTSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE. 
 
 then nnotlier. We, ourselves, who were ex- 
 panded to Brobdignags in size, saw the gulf into 
 which we were to enter and be lost. I ulmost 
 sliivered wiien my turn came, but there was no 
 eluding my fate ; one side of my face was veiled, 
 and in a few moments the whole had passed like 
 a dream. An instant before, and we were the 
 inhabitants of a " gorgeous palace," but it was 
 the " baseless fabric of a vision," and now, there 
 was left " ;iot a wreck behind." 
 
 After tea, and tlie lamps lit, the different sets 
 were seen discussing the events of that day; and 
 it would fill a book to report the half of the real- 
 ly interesting conversations that were held. The 
 book man was lecturing upon optics, and show- 
 ing "Kate" how the law^s of light were to be 
 understood, on rcjlection and refraction; and how 
 these effects were produced this aficrnoon by 
 the rays striking a certain angle of incidence; 
 all of which was Greek to me. " But," said the 
 bright girl, " have not such sights as these for- 
 merly h;rd great effects upon the superstitious 
 mind ?" " O yes," said the fixther, " what the 
 Scotch call the second sight was no doubt occa- 
 sioned by some remarkable visions seen among 
 the hills of Caledonia; and battles have been 
 seen iu the air in ancient times. You remem- 
 ber something of this kind in our own revolu- 
 tion before ono engngenu'nt." "Yes, Monmouth. 
 But do you think, father, that all these appear- 
 ances in the air are produced by the same 
 causes?" "All by natural laws, my child, differ- 
 ently modified. The most interesting is that of 
 the Bracken, in the Hartz mountains ; and that 
 other in the Faro of Messina, where, when the 
 sun shines from a certain point at the back of the 
 city, his incident ray forms an angle towards the 
 sea of Riggio ; and above that, in the vapoury 
 air, may be seen the city, just as this house was 
 seen this afternoon." 
 
 " Uncle," said " Kate," " tell us what you were 
 thinking of during that wonderful vision." " O 
 yes," said the mother, " you have travelled, bro- 
 ther, in the old world, and can enlighten us." 
 " My story has a moral to it," said the clergj'-- 
 man, for I found he was one. " The mysterious- 
 ly grand temple we have beheld in the cloud 
 has brought to my mind the fleeting nature of 
 all earthly temples. When I first saw the Par- 
 thenon at Athens, looking out on the iEgean sea 
 from the highest point of the Acropolis, I said, 
 there is man's finest workmanship passing, after 
 it has stood 2000 years. Again, I saw on Calton 
 hill, Edinburgh, how the proud Scotchman at- 
 tempted to imitate their ancient models and 
 
 failed. Their r.irthenon is already like a min 
 And here on a higher eminence still, stand.s a 
 building that, at a distance, rivals both in appear- 
 ance, till you come near and find that it is but 
 wood, and shall pass away sooner than either of 
 those I have referred to. But to-day, as if in 
 mockery of all earthly greatness, we have seen 
 an airy Parthenon passing by us like a dream. 
 Truly • 
 
 •• 'J'his World is all a fleetiug show, 
 '•For man's illusion given." 
 
 "Time for bed," snid the quiet mother, and 
 the whole family ro^^e jnd I was left to muse 
 alone. 
 
 There was nothing to be seen next day; and 
 the greater part was spent in hope of conjuring 
 up something before it was done. A thousand 
 questions were put to the major domo about 
 the weather. How long this would last; and 
 what they might expect before night. He al- 
 ways put them off with pleasant words. 
 
 About 3 o'clock I heard the cry of a lairj- 
 bow! a rainbow! and on looking down towards 
 tlie river I perceived that the right limb cf a 
 large bow was already formed. It gradually 
 took its proper shape, imtil its colors came all 
 out in their completeness. The shower was fall- 
 ing on the river; and supposing that to be the 
 cord, the extent must have been twenty miles in 
 length, with a span in proportion. It was such a 
 token as Noah saw from Arrarat, rising on the 
 plain of Shinar. 
 
 It was interesting to listen to the remarks of 
 the spectators — moralizing — poetizing, and phi- 
 losophizing. A young wife and mother stood 
 next me, rapt in admiration, and asked of her 
 material husband, if he did not think "that would 
 make a noble gateway for the ' house made with- 
 out hands,' that w'e saw yesterday." "Umph!" 
 said the careful father, "pick up your riiisins 
 there, you little fool. What is that you said, 
 my dear, about gate posts" " Oh see," said the 
 really enraptured wife, "what a gem is there. 
 See! see! the sun is tinting that cloud with 
 gold, till it looks like a throne in the heavens." 
 The deep solemn voice of the grave man was 
 repeating in an under tone, " And there was a 
 rainbow round about the throne, in sight like 
 unto an emerald. And the city had twelve gates, 
 and every several gate was one pearl." " Tom'^ 
 was not behind the rest with his word. The idea 
 of that being an entrance to the palace of yester- 
 day, caught his fancy, and he was repeating with 
 variations — 
 
CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE. 
 
 BS 
 
 •• Still 3eeni as in my intant dnyt, 
 
 "A glorious ^o^fway given, 
 " For happy spirits to alight, 
 
 " Between the earth and heaven.* 
 
 The shower passed to the eastward, and the 
 trreat bow fell flat upon tlie black surface, and 
 did appear like a fallen arch, the remnant of 
 departed glory. 
 
 I must take for granted that the ride to the 
 falls and the gener.al features of the region are 
 known; but this day was remarkable for new 
 objects of interest to me. 
 
 Standing on the south-west point, after going 
 round heloio the cascade, I became drenched and 
 almost suffocated with the steam, which rose 
 through the air so thick that I could not see 
 across the boiling caldron, and was glad to stand 
 still and take breath. So much rain had fallen 
 for a week, the torrent was greater than I had 
 ever seen it before. It seemed that I was stand- 
 ing within the crater of a volcano, deep and fear- 
 ful. After steadying my feet and my head, my 
 eyes caught the iris of a rainbow of uncommon 
 brilliancy. At first I was inclined to believe ray- 
 self under some visual delusion, and that in my 
 eagerness to retain the im.age of what I had al- 
 ready seen that day, that this was but the spec- 
 trum of that other rainbow. But as I looked up 
 I saw the sun reflected from millions of prisms, 
 hung on every tree and blade of gi-ass around. 
 And from the point where I stood, round to the 
 opposite side of the gulf, there was one solid 
 mass of variegated glory. It seemed to be one 
 jewel, upon which I might have walked with 
 ease. After the first surprise, I discovered that 
 I stood within the rays of this brightness. Was 
 it presumption in me to feel enraptured, with the 
 bow of promise around my head, and the rock of 
 ages beneath my feet? Blessed emblem of hope 
 and immortality ! 
 
 The sun had now gained the full ascendancy 
 in tlie heavens, and his setting gave us the hope 
 of a bright morning, and we retired to rest to- 
 night, congratulating ourselves on the wonder- 
 ful tilings we had seen this day. 
 
 A low tap at the door next to mine, — and 
 the sweet voice of " Kate," — saying, " Be sure, 
 and waken me, uncle, to see the sun rise," caused 
 me to make haste to sleep, that I might also rise, 
 and " Hail the glorious king of day rejoicing in 
 the east." 
 
 In tlie dark of the morning I heard gentle 
 feet going through the long passages, and, afraid 
 of being late, I hastened to the east side of the 
 house, where tlic gi-eater part of the guests were 
 'oefore me ; and after looliing at the sky, and 
 
 then at the spectators, I thought of the Psalmist's 
 words, " I wait for thee, as they tiiat wait for the 
 eyelids of the morning." 
 
 E.xcept a few scattered clo'ids the dawn was 
 purer than the crystal, for it was unassociated 
 with any material thing. It brought all the beau- 
 tiful tilings of this world to remembrance. An 
 infant's eyes opening for the first time on a world 
 of sin. The cactus in full flower, with its purple 
 and azure mingling. 
 
 Two small clouds, half way up the sky, to- 
 wards the north-east, caught the earliest tints of 
 glory : then, higher up, another became so white 
 that it was at last painful to look at. In my 
 eagerness to see all and catch the first glance of 
 the sun himself, my eyes were dazzled so that I 
 was almost blinded. It was therefore a great re- 
 lief to hear a voice cry out from one of the win- 
 dows, Look below ! look below! 
 
 And we all looked, but the whole scene was 
 unutterably grand. The sea! the sea! many 
 voices said at once. From the verge of the cliffy 
 as far as the eye could reach, it was rolling va- 
 por; the waves rose and fell in hills and deep 
 valleys. Coming on like the tide and retiring; 
 and I caught myself involuntarily listening for 
 the dash of tlie surge. But the silence was 
 alarming. The sea so measureless ; so disturbed 
 to the eye ; so near, and yet so speechless to the 
 ear. It was not a dead sea, for it moved ; but it 
 was the movement of oblivion. How melancholy 
 to think on the thousands of buried homes, 
 wrapt in that cold cheerless sheet; and we up 
 here, basking in the beams of heaven's own 
 brightness. 
 
 I was begiYining to draw a contrast between 
 heaven and earth, when I heard "Tom" crying 
 out, "He is coming! he is coming!" "Hush!^* 
 said his uncle, and you would have heard a 
 whisper now. Even the mercurial " Tom " was 
 awed by the appearance. All was quiet but 
 one very egotist, who wished us to look and lis- 
 ten to hun, in preference to the rising sun. 
 
 The two clouds nearest the east had become 
 sohd gold, we thought nothing could be brighter, 
 till a moment after the king himself appeared. 
 It was as if the helmet of a conqueror had risen 
 on the top of a hill ; but there he was himself I 
 unexcelled. His actual presence produced a sud- 
 den tremor, and tears gushed plentifully at the 
 sight. 
 
 We nad now time to look beneath; and al- 
 ready there was an evident movement, as if some 
 great commotion was takin<^ place beneath, at 
 the centre. But it was the 8\in now making him- 
 
94 
 
 CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE 
 
 self felt, like the. Spirit of God moving on the 
 face of chaos, whsn he said " Let tiiere be light, 
 and there was light." We were waiting for the 
 "^(Iry land" to appear. 
 
 The vapory mass began to move more rapid- 
 ly, and assume every fantastic shape that the 
 imagination gave it. 
 
 Monstrous giants rose, ruled, and departed 
 like the despots of antiquity. Ossian, before his 
 blindness, must have beheld the like, ere he de- 
 .scribed Fingal's combat with tlie misty demon. 
 And so did Milton doubtless, while " holy light" 
 entered his early eye; when from the "Alpine 
 heights" he saw the celestial and infernal armies, 
 as here, deploying, then closing, then recoiling in 
 terrific fury. 
 
 " Uncle," said the sensitive girl, " tell me what 
 you see there." " O child, child, I see, I see what 
 is unspeakable. There is Tophet sending forth 
 its smoke ; look at tliat yawning gulf, was ever 
 any thing so capacious; and there beyond is 
 Mount Sinai hidden in awful darkness." " Yes, 
 
 brother," said the mother, " \u\ lo( k up higher, 
 and tell me what you think of thos t clouds that 
 have become separated from the rest, and that 
 are now already tinged with heaven's gold." " O, 
 it was in such a chariot as that my master as- 
 cended, when a cloud received him out of their 
 sight;" and the solemn man wept like a child. 
 In about an houi: from sunrise the several fleeces 
 had been lifted up from the earth, till the hills 
 with which I was familiar became apparent, but 
 still huge and awful. And there the river ran 
 dark, in the mist, like the mysterious Styx of the 
 region of Pluto ; and as the clouds passed over 
 it they seemed to be fleets of departed nations 
 who were there navigating their shadowy barks, 
 joyless and hopeless. What a contrast between 
 that gloomy region and the rich panorama that 
 is spread out here at noon. Then that river re- 
 minds one of the " river of life, clear as crystal," 
 and of that world, when the veil of mvstery will 
 be removed, and we shall look no more through 
 a glass darkly. 
 
 WINTER SCENE ON THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 The following sketch taken from Vol. 2nd of American Scenery, edited by N. P. Willis, is an inierett- 
 ing description of the appearance of these mountains at a season when gAeasure travkfJi'ers 
 never visit them. 
 
 The great proportion of evergreen trees, 
 shrubs and creepers in the American mountains, 
 make the winter scenery less di-eary than would 
 be first imagined ; but even the nakedness of the 
 deciduous trees is not long observable. The first 
 snow clothes them in a dress so feathery and 
 graceful, that, like a change in the costume of 
 beauty, it seems lovelier than the one put off"; 
 and the constant renewal of its freshness and 
 delicacy goes on with a variet}' and novelty, 
 which is scarce dreamed of by those who see 
 snow only in cities, or in countries where it is 
 rare. 
 
 Tlie roads, in so mountainous a region as the 
 Catskills, are in winter not only difficult but 
 dangerous. The following extracts from a sleigh- 
 ride in a more level part of the country will 
 serve to give an idea of it. 
 
 A3 we got farther on, the new snow became 
 deeper. The occasional farm houses were almost 
 wholly buried, the black chimney alone appear- 
 ing' above the ridgy drifts ; while the tops of the 
 
 doors and windows lay below the level of thfe 
 trodden road, from which a descending passage 
 was cut to the threshold, like the entrance to a 
 cave in the earth. The fences were quite invisi- 
 ble. The fruit-trees looked diminished to shrub- 
 beries of snow-flowers, their trunks buried under 
 the visible surface, and their branches loaded 
 with the still falling flakes, till they bent beneath 
 the burden. Nothing was abroad, for nothing 
 could stir out of the road without danger of be- 
 ing lost ; and we dreaded to meet even a single 
 sleigh, lest, in turning out, the horses should 
 " slump " beyond their depth in the untrodden 
 drifts. The poor animals began to labor severe 
 ly, and sank every step over their knees in the 
 clogging and wool-like substance ; and the long 
 and cumbrous sleigh rose and fell in the deep 
 pits like a boat in a heavy sea. It seemed im- 
 possible to get on. Twice we brought up with 
 a terrible plunge, and stood suddenly still ; for 
 the iunners had stuck in too deep for the strength 
 of the horses ; ar.d vdth the snow shovels, which 
 
WINTER SCENE ON THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 85 
 
 formed a part of the furniture of the vehicle, we iron had been let into the skull. The minJ 
 
 duo- them from tbeir concrete beds. Our pro- 
 gress was reduced ut length to scarce a mile in 
 the hcAf, i,id. \re began to have apprehensions 
 that our team would give out between the post- 
 houses. Fortunately it was still warm, for the 
 numbness of cold would have paralyzed our 
 already flagging exertions. 
 
 We had reached the summit of a long hill 
 with the greatest difficulty. The poor beasts 
 stood panting and reeking with sweat ; the run- 
 ners of the sleigh were clogged with hard cakes 
 of snow, and the air was close and dispiriting. 
 We came to a stand still, with the vehicle lying 
 over almost on its side ; and I stepped out to 
 speak to the driver and look forward. It was a 
 discouraging prospect ; a long deep valley lay 
 
 meantime seemed freezing up; unw-illingness 
 to stu-, and inability to think cf anything but the 
 cold, becoming every instant more decided. 
 
 From the bend of the valley our diffieultiea 
 became more serious. The drifts often lay across 
 the road like a wall, some feet above the heads 
 of the horses, and we had dug through one or 
 two, and had been once upset, and often near it, 
 before we came to the steepest part of the as- 
 cent. The horses had by this time begun to 
 feel the excitement of the rum given them by 
 the driver at the last halt, and bounded on 
 through the snow with continuous leaps, jerking 
 the sleigh after them with a violence that threat- 
 ened momentarily to break the traces. The 
 steam from their bodies froze in.stantly, and cov- 
 
 before us, ciosed at the distance of a couple of ' ered them with a coat-like hoar-frost; and spite 
 miles by another steep hill, through a cleft in '. of their heat, and the unnatural and violent ex- 
 
 the top lay our way. We could not even dis- 
 tinguish the line of the road between. Our 
 disheartened animals stood at this moment bu- 
 ried to their breasts ; and to get forward with- 
 out rearing at every step, seemed impossible. 
 The driver sat on his box, looking uneasily down 
 into the valley. It was one undulating ocean 
 of snow — not a sign of human habitation to be 
 seen — and even the trees indistinguishable from 
 the general mass by their whitened and overla- 
 den branches. The storm had ceased, but the 
 usual sharp cold that succeeds a warm fall of 
 snow had not yet lightened the clamminess of 
 the new-iallen flakes, and they clung around the 
 foot like clay, rendering every step a toil. 
 
 We heaved out of the pit into which the 
 sleigh had settled, and for the first mile it was 
 down hill, and we got on with comparitive ease. 
 The sky was by this time almost bare, a dark 
 slaty mass of clouds alone settling on the hori- 
 zon in the quarter of the wind ; while the sun, 
 
 ertions they were making, it was evident by the 
 pricking of their ears, and the sudden crouch of 
 the body when a stronger blast swept over, that 
 the cold struck through even their hot and in- 
 toxicated blood. 
 
 We toiled up, leap after leap ; and it seemt vi 
 miraculous to me that the now infuriated ani- 
 mals did not burst a blood-vessel, or crack » 
 sinew, with every one of those terrible springs. 
 The sleigh plunged on after them, stopping 
 dead and short at every other moment, and reel- 
 ing over the heavy drifts like a boat in a surging 
 sea. A finer crystallization had meanwhile taken 
 place upon the surface of the moist snow; and 
 the powdered particles flew almost invisibly on 
 the blasts of wind, filling the eyes and hair, and 
 cutting the skin with a sensation like the touch 
 of needle-points. The driver, and his maddened 
 but almost exhausted team, were blinded by the 
 glittering and whirling eddies; the cold grew 
 intenser every moment, the forward movemeiit 
 
 as powerless as moonlight, poured with dazzling | gradually less and less ; and when, with the very 
 splendor on the snow; and the gusts came | last eifort, apparently, we reached a spot on the 
 
 keen and bitter across the sparkling waste, 
 rimming the nostrils as if with bands of steel, 
 and penetrating to the innermost nerve with 
 their pungent iciness. No protection seemed 
 gf any avail. The whole surface of the body 
 iched as if it were laid against a slab of ice. 
 The throat clothed instinctively, and contracted 
 ts unpleasant respiration. The body and limbs 
 ii'ew irresistibly together, to economise, like a 
 hedge-hog, the exposed surface. The hands and 
 icet felt transmuted to lead ; and across the fore- 
 head, beluw the pressure of the cap, there was a 
 binding and oppressive ache, as if a bar of frosty and occurs now but seldom.] 
 
 summit of the hill, which, from its exposed situ- 
 ation had been kept bare by the wind, the pa- 
 tient and persevering Whip brought his horses 
 to a stand, and despaired, for the first time, of his 
 prospects of getting on. 
 
 [The description, which is too long to (i.<- 
 tract entire, details still severer difficulties ; a.fi<:Te 
 which the writer and driver mounted on the 
 leaders, and arrived, nearly dead with cold, at 
 the tavern. Such cold as is described liere, how- 
 ever, is wiiat is called "an old fashiored spell/' 
 
From the New-York Eveuing Poirt of March 29, 1843. 
 
 THE FALLS OF KAATERSKILL IN WINTER, 
 
 BY THOMAS COLE. 
 
 Winter, hoary, stern and strong, 
 Sits the mountain crags among ; 
 On his bleak and horrid throne. 
 Drift on drift the snow is piled 
 Into forms grotesque and %vild. 
 Ice-ribbed precipices sherl 
 A cold light round his grisly head ; 
 Clouds athwart his brows are bound. 
 Ever whirling round and round. 
 
 We iuive ollen heard that the Falls of Kaa- 
 terskill present an interesting spectacle in mid- 
 winter, but, despite our strong desire to visit 
 tnem, winter after winter has passed away with- 
 out the accomplishment of our wish, until a few 
 days ago, Feb. 27th, a party of ladies, who, to 
 do them justice, are generally more alive to the 
 beauties of nature than our gentlemen, invited 
 Mrs. C. and myself to join in this tour in searcli 
 of the (wintry) picturesque. 
 
 Tiie preparation of our whole party was 
 .short ; but anticipated pleasure made us prompt. 
 The pantries were ransacked — cloaks, moccasins 
 and mittens were in great demand, and we were 
 soon glancing over the groaning snow. The 
 .sleigh-bells rang in harmony with our spirits, 
 which, as usual, wlien we can break away from 
 our ordinary occupations with a clear conscience, 
 iind breathe the fresh air, are light and gay. 
 
 On approaching the mountains we were 
 somewhat fearful that a snow-storm would put 
 an end to our journey ; but it proved transitory, 
 and in trutli, added to our enjoyment, for by 
 partially veiling the mountains, it gave tbern a 
 vast, visionary, and spectral appearance. The 
 sun which had been sliorn of his beams, broke 
 forth in mild splendor just as we came in view 
 of the 3Iountain House, seated on tlie black 
 crags a few hundred feet above us. Lea !ng the 
 Mountain House to the left, we crossed tlie lesser 
 of the two mountain lakes ; from its level breast, 
 now covered with snow, the mountains rose in 
 desolate grandeur, tlieir steep sides bristling with 
 hare trees, or clad in sturdy evergreens; lierc 
 and there might be seen a silver birch, so pale 
 and wan that one might readily imagine that it 
 drew its aliment from tlie snow that rested round 
 its roots. The Clove valley, the lofty range of 
 the high peak and ro and top. which rise bt^yond, 
 
 as seen from the road between the Mountain 
 House and the Falls, arc in summer grand ob- 
 jects ; but winter had given them a sterner cha- 
 racter. The mountains seemed more precipitous, 
 and the forms that embossed their sides more 
 clearly defined. The projecting mounds, the 
 rocky terraces, the shaggy clefts, down which the 
 courses of the torrents could be traced by the 
 gleaming ice, were exposed in the leafless forests 
 and clear air of winter ; while across tlie grizzly 
 peaks the snowy sand was driving rapidly. There 
 is beauty, there is sublimity in the wintry aspect 
 of the mountains; but their beauty is toucheo 
 with melancholy, and their sublimity takes a 
 dreary tone. 
 
 Before speaking of the Kaaterskill Falls as 
 arrayed in their winter garb, it will be necessary, 
 in order to render ourselves intelligible to those 
 who have never visited tlicm, to give a hasty 
 sketch of their appearance in summer. 
 
 There is a deep gorge in tlie midst of the 
 loftiest Catskills, which, at its upper end, is ter- 
 minated by a mighty wall of rock ; as the spec- 
 tator approaches fioin below, lie sees its craggy 
 and imjjending front rising to the height of three 
 hundred feet. This huge rampart is semi-circu- 
 lar. From the centre of the more distant ov 
 central part of the semi-circle, like a gush of liv 
 ing light from Heaven, the cataract leaps, and 
 foaming info featliery spca)', descends into g. 
 rocky basin one hundred and eighty feet below 
 — thence the water flows over a platform forty 
 or fifty feet, and precipitates itself over another 
 rock eighty feet in height ; then struggling and 
 foaming tlirough the shattered fragments of the 
 mountains, and shadowed by fantastic trees, it 
 plunges into the gloomy depths of the valley 
 below. Tlie stream is but a small one, e.vcept 
 when swollen by the rains and melted snows of 
 
THE FALLS O*^ KAATERSKILL IN WINTER. 
 
 m. 
 
 Spring and aiituiun ; vet u thing of light and mo- 
 tiop is at all times sufiicient to give expression to 
 the scene, which is one of savage and silent 
 grandeur. But its semi-circular cavern or gallery 
 is, perhaps, the most remarkable feature of the 
 scene. This has been formed in the wall of rock 
 by the gradual crumbling away of a narrow 
 stratum of soft shell, that lies beneath gray rocks 
 of hardest texture. The gray rock now projects 
 sixty or seventy feet, and forms a stupendous 
 canopy, over which the cataract shoots ; under- 
 neath it, if the ground were level, thousands of 
 men might stand. A narrow path, tolerably even, 
 but raised about twenty feet above the basin of 
 the waterfall, leads through the depth of this 
 arched gallery, which is about five hundred feet 
 long. 
 
 It is a singular, a wonderful scene, whether 
 viewed from above, where the stream leaps into 
 the tremendous gulf scooped into the very heart 
 of the huge mountain; or as seen from below 
 the second fall. The impending crags — the sha- 
 dowy depth of the cavern, across which darts 
 the cataract, that, broken into fleecy forms, is 
 tossed and swayed hither and thither by the 
 wayward wind — the sound of the water now 
 falling upon the ear in a loud roar, and now in 
 fitful, lower tones — the lonely voice — the soli- 
 tary song of the valley. 
 
 But to visit the scene in winter is a privilege 
 permitted to few, and to visit it this winter, when 
 the spectacle (if I may so call it) is more than 
 usually magnificent, and as the hunters say, more 
 complete than has been known for thirty years, 
 is indeed wortliy a long pilgrimage. What a 
 contrast to its summer aspect ! No leafy woods, 
 no blossoms, glittering in the sun, rejoice upon 
 the steeps around ! Hoary winter 
 
 " O'er forests wide has laid his hand, 
 
 " And they are bare ; 
 " They move and moan a spectral band, 
 
 " Sti'uck by despair." 
 
 There are the overhanging rocks, the dark 
 browed cavern ; but where the spangled cataract 
 fell, stands a gigantic tower of ice, reaching 
 from the basin of the waterfall to the very sum- 
 mit of the crags. From the jutting rocks that 
 form the canopy of whrch I have spoken, hang 
 festoons of glittering icicles. Not a drop of wa- 
 ter, not a gush of spray is to be seen, no sound 
 of many waters strikes the ear — not even as 
 of a gurgling rivulet or trickling rill — all is si- 
 lent and motionless as death ; and did not the 
 curious eye perceive through two window-like 
 spaces of clear ice, the foiling water, one would 
 
 be led to believe that all was bound in ic_/ fet- 
 ters. But lliere falls the cataract, not imprisoned, 
 hut shielded like a thing too delicate for the 
 blasts of winter to blow upon. It falls, too, as 
 in summer it falls, broken into myriads of di.i/- 
 monds, which group themselves as they descend, 
 into wedge-like forms, like wild fowl when tra- 
 versing the blue air. I have said that the tower, 
 or perforated column of ice reaches the whole 
 height of tlie first fall ; its base rests on a field 
 of snow-covered ice spread over the basin and 
 rocky platform, that in some parts is broken into 
 miniature glaciers. Near the foot it is more than 
 thirty feet in diameter, but is somewhat naiTOwer 
 above. It is in general of a milk-white color, 
 and curiously embossed with rich and fantastic 
 ornaments; about its base are numerous dome- 
 like forms, supported by groups of icicles. In 
 other parts are to be seen falling strands of 
 flowers, each flower rufiled by the breeze — these 
 were of the most transparent ice. This curious 
 frost-work reminded me of the tracery and icicle- 
 like ornament frequent in Saracenic architecture; 
 and I have no doubt that nature suggested such 
 ornament to the architect, as the most fitting for 
 halls where ever-flowing fountains cooled the 
 sultry air. Here and there, suspended from the 
 projecting rocks that form the eaves of the great 
 gallery, are groups and ranks of icicles of every 
 variety of size and number. Some of them are 
 twenty or thirty feet in length ; — sparkling in the 
 sunlight, they form a magnificent fringe. 
 
 The scene is striking from many points of 
 view ; but one seemed superior to the rest. Neai 
 by and overhead hung a broad festoon of icicles 
 — a little further on another cluster of icicles of 
 great size, grouped with the columns all in full 
 sunlight, contrasting finely with the sombre cav- 
 ern behind. The icicles in this group appea; to 
 be broken off" midway some time ago, and from 
 their truncated ends numerous smaller icicles 
 depend — they look like gorgeous chandeliers, oi 
 the richest pendants of a gothic cathedral- 
 wrought in crystal. 
 
 Beyond these icicles and the column is secu 
 a cluster of lesser columns and icicles, of pure 
 cerulean color — then come the broken rocks and 
 woods. The icy spears — the majestic spears — 
 the impending rocks overhead — the wild valley 
 below with its contorted trees and drifted arrows 
 — the lofty mountains towering in the distance, 
 compose a " wild and wondrous " scene, whera 
 the Ice-king 
 
 "Builds, in the starlight clear and cold. 
 " A palace of ice where his torrent feiu>. 
 
8» 
 
 A VISIT TO THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 •* With turret and arch, and fretwork fair, 
 'And jnllara blue as the summer air." 
 
 We left the spot with lingering steps and 
 real regret, for in all probability we were never 
 to see these wintry glories again. The royal 
 architect builds but unstable structures, which, 
 like worldly virtues, quickly vanish in the full 
 light and fiery trial. 
 
 It may be asked by the curious, how the gi- 
 gantic cylinder of ice is formed round the water- 
 fall — the question is easily answered ; the spray 
 
 first congeals in a circle round tho foot of the 
 Fall, and as long as the frosts continue, this cir 
 cular wall keeps rising until it reaches the sum- 
 mit of the cataract, as is the case tliis winter ; 
 but ordinarily, the colunln only rises part of the 
 way up. Even when imperfectly formed, it must 
 be strange to see the water shoot into the hollow 
 tube of ice fifty or one hundred feet high, and I 
 have no doubt it would amply repay any one foi 
 the fatigue and exposure to which he might b« 
 subjected in his visit. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 A VISIT TO THE CATSKILLS/' 
 
 Published in the Atlantic Souvenir, 1828. 
 
 Toe traveller sprung from his seat into the 
 sloor way of Rip Van Winkle's shanty, which 
 occupied a nook in that part of the mountain 
 to wliich the stage had arrived. A species of 
 wild cherry hung its ripe red fruit over a mass 
 of rock, variegated with lichens and moss, 
 through whicii tlie water of a clear spring trick- 
 led, and was collected in a long strip of bark ; 
 by this rustic expedient it was conveyed to Rip's 
 dwellint,'-, and afforded an unfailing fountain. 
 The present Rip was not even a descendant of 
 the mountain sleeper, but could show tlie spot 
 frotai wiiicli the old man of the glen repeated 
 " Rip Vaji Winkle," and the very hollow where 
 jRip saw tlie "comp:xny of odd-looking person- 
 ages playing at nine-pins." 
 
 When the traveller had refreshed himself by 
 (I draught from the cool fountain, he was con- 
 firmed in liis resolution to "finish his journey 
 alone.*' by an assurance that the distance to the 
 i'ine Orclund was only two miles ; but those 
 who have used their own limbs to bear them 
 over tliose miles, will attest that they are weari- 
 .some ones. The road was so hedged on either 
 Mde by rocks, shrubs, pine trees and wild vines 
 forming a net-work ahnost impenetrable, that 
 there was no danger of wandering. Tiie travei- 
 l?r stojit occasionally to catch a glimpse of the 
 valley, througli the openings in the foliage ; or 
 to admire tiie mountain ash, brilliant with .scarlet 
 clusters ; lie loved to gaze upon the fair face of 
 nature, but at length felt a strong desire to fix 
 Lis eye on the form which art has placed upon 
 
 the summit of the mountain. The windings of 
 the road brought him unexpectedly to the Pine 
 Orchard spot ; and creation seemed presented in 
 one view, at least half the hemisphere of earth 
 appeared to be beneath liim, varied with moun- 
 tain and valley, rugged hills, luxuriant fields, 
 towns, farm-houses, huts, inill-streams, and 
 creeks, (which in other lands would bear nobler 
 titles,) and tiie Hudson river, winding through 
 the whole extent. The mid-day sun spread such 
 dazzling beams through the vast blue concave 
 above, that the vision of the gazer wxis almost 
 overpowered, and he turned his aciiing eyes, to 
 relieve them, upon that part of the mountain 
 which shuts out the prospect — there all was 
 wilderness. Without again venturing to do 
 more than cast a glance around, he mounted the 
 flight of steps which leads to the lofty portico 
 of the house ; and the sudden transition from 
 the rudeness of mountain scenery, to tlie refine- 
 ments of an elegantly furnished apiirtnent, in 
 which, belles and beaux, decorated in the cos- 
 tumes of great cities, were amusing them.selves, 
 was almost as unexpected as the extensive \io.Vf 
 had been, when at first of ened before him." 
 
 [Tiie traveller visits the Falls — j 
 
 And when a small boy presented himself 
 as a guide down the ravine, he followed with 
 indifference : he bec.ime, however, more animat 
 ed, as he alternately slid over nioss-eovered 
 
A VISIT TO THE CATSttlLLS. 
 
 8» 
 
 rocks, and stepped down rustic ladders, catching 
 for support at the almost worn-out branches 
 which hung over the det'cent. In strict obedi- 
 ence to the law of nature, he was intent upon 
 his steps, until he placed them in safety upon 
 the rocix at the foot of the first cascade ; there 
 he stood, it is to be fancied, in a graceful attitude, 
 for it was a motionless one, as he became al- 
 most entranced with again realizing in the wild 
 beauty of the scene, the animated description of 
 Leather-Stocking. 
 
 In the enthusiasm of the moment he repeat- 
 ed aloud, " The first pitch is nigh two hundred 
 feet, and the water looks like flakes of driven 
 snow before it touches the bottom ; and there 
 the stream gathers itself together again for a 
 new start, and, may be, flutters over fifty feet of 
 flat rock before it falls for another hundred, 
 when it jumps about from shelf to shelf, first 
 turning this way, and then turning that way, 
 striving to get out of the hollow, till it finally 
 comes to the plain." The child who had guided 
 him stood listening, and bore his artless testimo- 
 ny to the truth of the description, by saying, " So 
 it is, just like what you say." A new object 
 now attracted the traveller, and he exclaimed as 
 he gazod at the cascade, 
 
 " Benutiful I fur on the verge, 
 " From side to aide, beneath tho glittering »un, 
 " An Iris sits, nmidst tho unceasing shower." 
 
 No assent was given by the still listening 
 guide, and in a few moments he disappeared. 
 The traveller now turned to the scene which 
 ay beneath him. The pathway of the skipping 
 stream was hedged by broken masses of rock, 
 which iifforded themselves decorations, by hold- 
 ing earth in their crevices for the support of 
 large bunches of waving fern, and long stream- 
 ers of mountain vine. The earth on both sides 
 of the chnsm seemed still to hold some of the 
 ;>ines which belonged to it when the gap was 
 formed, but by such an uncertain tenure that 
 even an adventurous clamberer would hesitate 
 to seize for aid their bare projecting roots, lest 
 they should yield to his grasp, and carry hun, 
 with the lofty ti-unks which they supported, to 
 the deep hollow below. A moving object ap- 
 peared at the bottom of the second cascade, and 
 the traveller might have fancied that he saw one 
 of Queen Mab's subjects sporting over the mossy 
 stones, had he not known that our country has 
 not yet been favored with emigrations from 
 fairy land ; and he was obliged to acknowledge 
 the earthly form of his mountain guide. Wea- 
 
 ried with standing, he now seated himself be- 
 neath the shelving rock, that spreads in a half 
 circle of fifty feet, and from which the water 
 takes its first leap. Stilled into a sense of his 
 own impotency, he breathed a praise to the 
 Almighty Being, who, by tlie union of his attri- 
 butes of mercy, wisdom and power, decks even 
 the wilderness in beauty. 
 
 ******* 
 
 MOONLIGHT SCENE. 
 
 " Rest for an hour in his chamber prepared 
 him to move with quick step, when he heard a 
 voice exclaiming, 'I do believe the moon is 
 rising.' That was a sight not to be lost willing- 
 ly, and he placed himself upon a projection of 
 the rock near the house, that he might mark 
 each object as the mellow moonlight should dis- 
 place the gray veil. It was not a night when 
 the full orb was to rise in cloudless majesty, for 
 it was concealed by a dark mass, which no 
 doubt was lined with silver, but only the bright- 
 ening edgings were shown to mortals ; he 
 watched impatiently for the moment when the 
 unobstructed light should give a new character 
 to the scene ; when it did so, it realized more 
 than his fancy had ever pictured in a moonlight 
 prospect. The horizon was marked by the frre- 
 gular lines of hill and valley in the distance ; 
 the projections of the Catskills drew the view 
 to a half circle, but the only objects within it 
 that could be distinctly discerned were the lofty 
 hills and the noble Hudson ; the light was not 
 strong enough to place in relief towns, farm- 
 houses or cottages. All nature seemed to sleep 
 beneath the soft beams, but voices from the por- 
 tico proved that some beings were awake, and 
 the . traveller listened to the various sounds. 
 ' To me,' said a native of the Emerald Isle, * the 
 Hudson looks like a strip of half whitened linen, 
 laid crooked over a great bleach ground.' ' To 
 me,' breathed a tone, in contrast, soft as that 
 which the harp of .^olus yields to zephyr, ' it re. 
 sembles a stream locked in the frosts of winter 
 for tlie moonbeams seem to play upon a motion 
 less surface.' " 
 
 Let no American, (thought the traveller,) 
 leave his native land for enjoyment, when he 
 can view the rugged wildness of her mountains ; 
 admire tlie beauty of her cultured plains, the 
 noble extent of her broad rivers, the expanse of 
 her lakes, and fearful grandeur of her cataracts 
 or feel the rich blessings of her freedom. 
 
From the New-York Daily Tribune of July 12, 1860. 
 TRAVELS AT HOME. 
 
 BY BAYARD TAYLOR, 
 
 I have been so often asked, " Where are you 
 going to next?" and have so often answered, "I 
 am going to travel at home," that what was at 
 first intended for a joke has naturally resolved 
 Itself into a reality. The genuine traveler has 
 a chronic dislike of railways, and if he be in 
 addition a lecturer, who is obliged to sit in a 
 cramped i:)08ition and breathe bad air for five 
 months of the year, he is the less likely to 
 prolong his Winter tortures through the Sum- 
 mer. Hence, it is scarcely a wonder that, al- 
 though I have seen so much of our country, I 
 have trcueled so little in it. I knew the Him- 
 alayas before I had seen tjie Green Mountains, 
 the Cataracts of the Nile before Niagara, and 
 the Libyan Desert before the Illinois prairies. 
 I have never yet (let me make the disgraceful 
 confession at the outset) beheld the White 
 Mountains, or Quebec, or the Sagueuay, or 
 Lake George, or Trenton Falls ! 
 
 In all probability, I should now be at home, 
 enjoying Summer indolence under the shade of 
 my oaks, were it not for the visit of some 
 European friends, who have come over to see 
 the land ■svhich all their kindness could not 
 make their friend forget. The latter, in fact, 
 possesses a fair share of the national sensi- 
 tiveness, and defended his country with so 
 much zeal and magnificent assertions, that his 
 present visitors wei*e not a little curious to 
 see whether their own impressions would cor- 
 respond with his pictures. He, on the other 
 hand, being anxious to maintain his own as well 
 as his country's credit, offered his services as 
 guide and showman to Our Mountains, Rivers, 
 Lakes and Cataracts ; and this is how he ( I, 
 you understand,) came to start upon the pres- 
 ent journey. On the whole, I think it a good 
 pJan, not to see all your own country until after 
 you have seen other lands. It is easy to say, 
 with the school-gii'ls, " I adore Nature !" — but 
 he who adores, never criticises. '' What a 
 beautiful view ! " every one may cry : " why is 
 it beautiful ?" would puzzle many to answer. 
 Long study, careful observation, and various 
 standards of comparison are necessary — as 
 much so as in Art — to enable one to pronounce 
 
 upon the relative excellence of scenery. I shall 
 have, on this tour, the assistance of a pair of 
 experienced, appreciative foreign eyes,, in ad- 
 dition to my own, and you may therefore rely 
 upon my giving you a tolerably impartial re- • 
 port upon American life and landscapes. 
 
 When one has a point to cari-y, the begin- 
 ning is everything. I therefore embarked with 
 my friends on a North River day -boat, at the 
 Harrison-street pier. The calliope, or steam- 
 organ attached to the machine, was playing 
 " Jordan's a hard road to travel," with aston- 
 ishing shrillness and power. " There's an Amer- 
 ican invention !" I exclaimed, in triumph ; "the 
 waste steam, instead of being blown off, is 
 turned into an immense hand-organ, and made 
 to grind out this delightful music." By-and-by, 
 however, came one of my companions, who 
 announced: "I have discovered the origin of 
 the music," and thereupon showed me a box of 
 green w ire-gauze, in which sat a slender youth, 
 manipulating a key-board with wonderful con- 
 tortions. This discovery explained to us why 
 certain passages were slurred over and others 
 shrieked out with awful vehemence — a fact 
 whicli we had previously attributed to the en- 
 ergy of the steam. 
 
 Other disappointments awaited me. The 
 two foregoing days had been insufferably warm 
 — 92° in the shade — and we were all, at my 
 recommcudation, clad in linen. "This is just 
 the weather for the Hudson," said I, "the mo- 
 tion of the boat will fan away the heat, while 
 this intense sunshine will beautify the shores. 
 But, by the time we reached Weehawken, the 
 north wind blew furiously, streaking the water 
 with long ribands of foam ; we unpacked heavy 
 shawls and coats, and were still half-frozen. The 
 air was so very clear and keen that the scenery 
 was too distinct — a common fault of our Amer- 
 ican sky — destroying the charm of perspective 
 and color. My friends would not believe in the 
 actual breadth of the Hudson or the bight of 
 the Palisades, so near Avere the shores brought 
 by the lens of the air. The eastern bank, from 
 Spuyten-Duy vel to Tarrytown, reminded them 
 of the Elbe between Hamburg and Blankenese, ' 
 
T II A \' E L S A T n :^1 E , 
 
 41' 
 
 a comparison which I I'uund correct. Tappau 
 and Haverstraw Bays made the impressiou I de- 
 sired, and thenceforth I felt that our river 
 would amply justify his fame. 
 
 Several years had passed since I had t^een 
 the Hudson from the deck of a steamer. I 
 found great changes, and for the better. The 
 elegant Summer residences of New-Yorkers, 
 peeping out from groves, nestled in wann dells, 
 or, most usually, crowning the highest points of 
 the hills, now extend more than half-way to 
 Albany. 
 
 The trees have been judiciously spared, strag- 
 gling woods carved into shape, stony slopes 
 converted into turf, and, in fact, the long laud- 
 scape of the eastern bank gardened into more 
 perfect beauty. Those Gothic, Tuscan, and 
 Norman villas, with their air of comfort and 
 liome, give an attractive, human sentiment to 
 the scenery; and I would not exchange them 
 for the castles of the Ehine. 
 
 Our boat was crowded, mostly with South- 
 ei-ners, who might be recognized by their lank, 
 sallow faces, and the broad semi-negro ac- 
 cent with which they spoke the American 
 tongue. How long, I wondered, before these 
 Chits (the California term for Southerners — an 
 abbreviation of Chivalry) start the exciting 
 topic, the discussion of which they so depre- 
 cate in us ? Not an hour had elapsed, when, 
 noticing a small crowd on the forward deck, 
 I discovered half a dozen Chivs expatiating to 
 some Northern youth on the beauties of Sla- 
 very. The former were very mild and guard- 
 ed in their expressions, as if fearful that the 
 outrages inflicted on Northern men in the South 
 might be returned upon them. "Why," said 
 one of them, "it's to our interest to treat our 
 slaves -well ; if we lose one, we lose a thousand 
 dollars — you may be shore of that. No man 
 will be so much of a d — d fool as to waste 
 his own property in that way." 
 
 "Just as we take care of our horses," re- 
 marked a Northern youth; "it's about the 
 same thing, isn't it?" 
 
 ""Well — yes — it is pretty much the same, 
 only we treat 'em more humanitary, of course. 
 Then agin," he continued, "when you've got 
 two races together, a higher and a lower, what 
 are you gwine to do?" — but you have read the 
 rest of his remarks in a speech of Caleb Cush- 
 ing, and I need not repeat them. 
 
 The Highlauds, of cour.-e, impressed my 
 friends as much as I could have wished. It is 
 customary among our tourists to deplore the 
 absence of ruins on those hights — a very un- 
 necessary regret, in my opinion. To show 
 that we had associations fully as inspiring as 
 those connected with feudal warfare, I related 
 the story of stony Point, and Andre's capture, 
 and pointed out, successively, Kosciusko's Mon- 
 ument, old Fort Putnam, and Washington's 
 Headquarters. Sunnyside was also a classic 
 spot to ray friends, nor was Idlewild forgotten. 
 
 " Oh," said a young lady, as we were pass- 
 ing Cold Spring, " where does the poet Morris 
 live?" AUhough I was not the person appealed 
 to, I took the liberty of showing her the d v.elling 
 of the warrior-bard. "You will observe," I add- 
 ed, " That the poet has a full view of Cro'nest, 
 '.vhich ho has immortalized in song. Y'onder 
 willow, trailing its branches in the water, is 
 said to have suggested to him that gem, ' Near 
 the lake where drooped the willow.' " " Oh, 
 Clara !" said the young lady to her companion, 
 " isn't it — is nH it sweet? " 
 
 I noticed a great improvement in the arrange- 
 ments for meals on board the steamer. Instead 
 of the oM tabled'' hote, a hundred yards long, 
 the rush, the excitement, the scramble, and 
 the impossibility of being served without brib- 
 ing some avaricious waiter, the dinner now ex- 
 tends over a space of three hours, wiiile small 
 tables, with an attendant to each, allow parties 
 to dine as privately and leisurely as they choose. 
 In fact, the only po.sitive annoyance we ex- 
 perienced was from the steam-organ, which 
 screamed forth the melodies of Bellini and 
 Donizetti, murdering flats and sharps, like a 
 lish-Avoman turned soprano. 
 
 In due time, we reached Catskill, and made 
 all haste to get off for the Mountain House. 
 There are few summits so easy of access 
 — certainly no other mountain resort in our 
 country where the facilities of getting up 
 and down are so complete and satisfactory. 
 The journey would be tame, however, were it 
 not for the superb view of the mountains, 
 rising higher, and putting on a deeper blue, 
 with every mile of approach. The intermediate 
 country has a rough, ragged, incomplete look. 
 The fields are stony, the houses mostly untidy, 
 the crops thin, and the hay (this year, at least) 
 scanty. Even the woods appear stunted : fine 
 
42 
 
 TRAVELS AT HOME. 
 
 tree-fonu.-< are rare. My tVieiiils wore oo eliarmed 
 by the purple asclepiads, wliich they had never 
 before seen excei^t in green lionses, the crim- 
 son-spiked sumacs, and the splendid fire-lilies 
 in the meadows, that they overlooked theAvant 
 of beauty in the landscape. 
 
 On reacliing the foot of the mountain, the 
 character of the scenery entirely changes. The 
 trees in Eip Van Winkle's dell are large and 
 luxuriant-leaved, while the backward views, 
 enframed with foliage and softly painted by 
 the bine i)encil of the air, grow more charming 
 as you ascend. Ere long, the shadow of the 
 towering North Mountain was flung over us, 
 as we walked up in advance of the laboring 
 horses. Tlie road was bathed in sylvan cool- 
 ness ; the noise of an invisible stream beguiled 
 the steepness of the way ; emerald ferns 
 sprang from the rocks, and the red blossoms 
 of the showy ?•({&?/# and the pale blush of the 
 laurel brightened the gloom of the under- 
 growth. It is fortunate that the wood lias not 
 been cut away, and but rare glimpses of the 
 scenes below are allowed to the traveler. 
 Landing in the rear of the Mountain House, the 
 huge white mass of which completely shuts 
 out the view, thirty paces bring you to the 
 brink of the rock, and you hang suspended, as 
 if by magic, over the world. 
 
 It was a quarter of an hour before sunset — 
 perhaps the l)est moment of the day for the 
 Oatskill panorama. The shadows of the moun- 
 tain-tops reached nearly to the Hudson, while 
 the sun, shining directly down the Clove, inter- 
 posed a thin wedge of golden luster between. 
 The farm-houses on a thousand hills beyond 
 the river sparkled in the glow, and the Berk- 
 shire Mountains swam in a luminous, rosy 
 mist. The shadows strode eastward at the 
 rate of a league a minute as we gazed ; the 
 forests darkened, the wheat-fields became 
 brown, and the houses glimmered like extin- 
 guished stars. Then the cold north wind blew 
 roaring in the pines, the last lurid purple faded 
 away from the distant hills, and in half an 
 hour the world below was as dark and strange 
 and spectral, as if it were an unknown' planet 
 we were passing on onr journey through 
 space. 
 
 The scene from Catskill is unlike any other 
 mountain view that I know. It is imposing 
 through tlie very simplicity of its features. A 
 
 line drawn from north to south tiirough the 
 sphere of vision divides it into two equal parts. 
 Tlie western half is mountain, falling oflf in a 
 line of rock parapet ; the eastern is a vast 
 semi-circle of bUie landscape, half a mile lower. 
 Owing to the abrupt rise of the mountain, the 
 nearest farms at the base seem to be almost 
 under one's feet, and the country as far as the 
 Hudson presents almost the same appearance 
 as if seen from a balloon. Its undulations have 
 vanished ; it is as flat as a pan-cake ; and even 
 the bold line of hills stretching toward Saiiger- 
 ties can only be distinguished by the color of 
 the forests upon them. Beyond the river, 
 although the markings of the hills are lost, the 
 rapid rise of the country from the water level 
 is very distinctly seen ; the whole region ap- 
 pears to be lifted on a sloping plane, so as 
 to expose the greatest possible surface to the 
 eye. On the horizon, the Hudson Highlands, 
 the Berkshire and Green Mountains, unite 
 their chains, forming a continuous line of misty 
 blue. 
 
 At noonday, under a cloudless sky, the pic- 
 ture is rather monotonous. After the eye is 
 accustomed to its grand, atrial depth, one seeks 
 relief in spying out the characteristics of the 
 separate farms, or in watching specks (of the 
 size of fleas) crawling along the highways. 
 Yonder man and horse, going up and down 
 between the rows of corn, resemble a little 
 black bug on a bit of striped calico. When 
 the sky is full of moving clouds, however, 
 nothing can be more beautiful than the shifting 
 masses of light and shade, traversing such an 
 immense field. There are, also, brief moments 
 when the sun or moon are reflected in the 
 Hudson — when rainbows bend slantingly be- 
 neath you, striking bars of seven-hued flama 
 aci'ossthe landscape — when, even, thethundei^a 
 march below, and the fovmtains of the rain are 
 under your feet. 
 
 What most imi)ressed my friends was the 
 originality of the view. Familiar with the. 
 best mountain scenery of Europe, they couldl 
 find nothing with which to compare it. As: 
 my movements during this journey are guided, 
 entirely by their wishes, I was glad when theyi 
 said : " Lot us stay here ' another day. ' " 
 
 We have front rooms at the Mountain Housei 
 — have you ever had one ? Through the white,' 
 Corinthian pillars of the i)ortico — pillars, whichi, 
 
TRAVELS AT 110 Mi:. 
 
 43 
 
 I must say, are very well proportioned — you 
 get much the same effects as tJrrougli those of 
 the PropyhT?a of the x\thenum Acro])olis. You 
 can open your window, hreatliiuii the delicious 
 mountain air in sleep (under a blanket.) and. 
 without liftinjj^ your liead from the pillow, see 
 the sun come up a hundred miles away. 
 
 There are about seventy-five visitors ; there 
 should be seven hundred. Those, I find, who 
 visit Catskill, come again. This is my fourth 
 ascent, and I trust it is far from being my last. 
 More to-mori"ow. 
 
 At the foot of the Catskill Mountain, tlie 
 laurel showed its dark-red seed vessels ; half- 
 way up, the last faded blossoms were dropping 
 otf ; but, as we approached the top, the (]ense 
 thickets were covered with a glory of blossoms. 
 Far and near, in the ciWerns of shade under 
 the pines and oaks and maples, flashed whole 
 mounds of flowprs, white and blush-color, 
 dotted with the vivid pnik of the crimped 
 buds. The finest Cape azaleas and ericas are 
 scarcely more beautiful than our laurel, be- 
 tween those mounds bloomed the fiame colored 
 lily scarcely to be distinguished, at a little 
 distance, from the breast of an oriole. The 
 forest scener}' was a curious amalgamation of 
 ISTorway and the tropics. " What a land, Avhat a 
 climate," exclaimed one of my friends, "that 
 can support such inconsistencies!'' "After 
 this," I replied, "it will perhaps be easier for 
 yoti to comprehend the apparent inconsist- 
 encies, the oi)posing elements, which you will 
 find in the American character." 
 
 The next morning we walked to the Katters- 
 killFalls. Since my la.st visit, (iu 1851) a hand- 
 some hotel — the Laurel House — has been 
 erected here by Mr. Schutt. The road into 
 the Clove has also been improved, and tlie 
 guests at the Mountain House make freciuent 
 excursions into the wild heart of the Catskill 
 region, especially to Stony Clove, 14 miles 
 distant, at the foot of the blue mountain which 
 faces you as you look down the Ivatterskill 
 glen. The Falls are very lovely (I think that 
 is the proper word)— they will bear seeing 
 many times — but don't believe those who tell 
 you that they surpass Niagara. Some i)eople 
 have a habit of pronouncing e\"ery last view 
 they see "the finest thing in the world !'' 
 
 The damming uy* of the water, so much dc- 
 
 I)recated by tlie romhntic. strikes me as an ad- 
 mirable arrangement. When tiie dam is full. 
 tlio stream overruns it and you have as much 
 water as if there were no dam. Then, as you 
 stand at the head of the lower fall. Avatching 
 the slender scarf of silver fluttering down the 
 black gulf, comes a sudden dazzling rush from 
 the summit ; the fall leaps away, from tho 
 half-way ledge where it lingered, bursting in 
 rockets and shooting stars of spray on the 
 rocks, and you have the full effect of the 
 stream when swollen by Spring thaws. Really, 
 this temporary increase of volume is the finest 
 feature of the fall. 
 
 No visitor to Catskill should neglect a visit 
 to the North and South mountains. The 
 views from these points, although almost iden- 
 tical with that from the House, have yet differ- 
 ent foregrounds, and embrace additional seg- 
 ments of the horizon. The North Peak, I 
 fancy, must have been in Bryant's mind, when 
 he wrote his poem of " The Hunter." Tho.se 
 beautiful features, which hovered before the 
 hunter's eyes, in the blue gulf of air, as he 
 dreamed on the rock — are they not those of 
 the same maiden who, rising from the still 
 .stream, enticed Goethe's "Fisher" into its 
 waA'es ? — tho poetic embodiment of that fascin- 
 ation which lurks iu bight and depth? Op- 
 posite tlie North lioek, there is a weather- 
 beaten pine, which, s])ringing from the moun- 
 tain-side below, lifts its head just to the level 
 of the rock, and not more than Twelve feet in 
 front of it. I never -see it without feeling a 
 keen desire to spring from the rock and lodge 
 in its top. The Ilanlon Brothers, or Bloiidin, 
 I presume, Avould not have the least objection 
 to pi^Tform such a feat. 
 
 Ill certain conditions of the atmosphere, 
 the air between you and the loAver world seems 
 to become a visible fluid — an ocean of pale, 
 crystaline blue, .at the bottom of which the 
 l.andscai)e lies. Peering down into its depths, 
 you .at last experience a numbness of the 
 senses, a delicious wandering of the imagination, 
 such as follows the fifth pipe of opium. Or, 
 in the words of W^alt. Whitman, you "loaf, and 
 invite your .'^oul." 
 
 The guests we found at the Mountain House 
 were rather a quiet company. Several entire 
 families were quartered there for the season, 
 but it was perliaps too early for the evening 
 
44 
 
 TRAVELS AT HOME. 
 
 hops and suuri.^o llu'tutions whicili I noticed 
 ten years ago. Pai'ties formed and strolled off" 
 quietly into the woods ; elderly gentlemen 
 sank into arm-cbairs on tlie rocks, and watched 
 the steamers on the Hudson ; mirses pulled ven- 
 turous children away from the precipice, and 
 young gentlemen from afar sat on the veranda, 
 and wrote in their note-books. You would not 
 have guessed the number of guests, if you had 
 not seen them at table. I found this quiet, this 
 nonchalance, this "take care of yourself and let 
 other people alone " characteristic very agree- 
 able, and the difference, in this respect, since 
 my last visit, leads me to hope that there has 
 been a general improvement (which was highly 
 needed) in the public manners of the Americans. 
 
 We descended the mountain yesterday, in a 
 Troy coach, in company with a pleasant Quaker 
 family, took the steamer to Hudson, dined there 
 (indifferently) and then embarked for Pittsfield, 
 which we made a stopping-place on the way to 
 Boston. My masculine companion, Avho is a 
 thorough European agriculturist, was much 
 struck with the neglected capacities of the coun- 
 try through which we passed. His admira- 
 tion of our Agricultural implements is quite 
 counterbalanced by his depreciation of our false 
 system of rotation in crops, our shocking waste 
 of manures, and general neglect of the econo- 
 mies of farming. I think he is about three- 
 fourths right. 
 
 The heat was intense when we left Hudson, 
 but during the thousand feet of ascent between 
 that place and this, Ave came into a fresher air. 
 A thunder-shower, an hour previous, had 
 obligingly laid the dust, and hung the thickets 
 with sparkling drops. The Taghkanic Mountains 
 rose dark and clear above the rapid landscapes 
 of the railroad : finally old Greylock hove in 
 sight, and a good hour before sunset we reached 
 Pittsfield. As I never joined the noble order 
 of The Spunge — the badge whereof so many 
 correspondents openly sport — but i)ay my way 
 regularly, like the non-corresponding crowd, 
 ray word may be implicitly taken when I say 
 that the Berkshire House here is one the quietest, 
 neatest, and pleasantest hotels in the country. 
 
 Here, let me say a word about hotels in 
 general. The purpose of a tavern, hostel, inn, 
 hotel, house, or however it may be called, is, 
 I take it, to afford a temporary home for 
 those who are away from home. Hence, that 
 
 liutel only deserves the name, which allows 
 each of its guests to do as he pleases, no one 
 conflicting Avith the rights of the others. If I 
 would not allow close, unventilated bed-rooms, 
 lack of water, towels the size of a handker- 
 chief, dirty sheets and general discomfort, in 
 the home I build for myself, should I not be 
 permitted to eschew such things in the home 
 I hire for a night ? Should I not call for what 
 I want, and have it, if it is to be had ? Should 
 I, late arrived, and suffering from loss of sleep, 
 be roused at daylight by a tremendous gong at 
 my door, and be obliged to rush down to break- 
 fast, under penalty of losing it altogether ? 
 
 But in too many of our hotels the rule is the 
 reverse. The landlord says, in practice : " This 
 is my ^iOUSQ : I have certain rules by Avhich it 
 is governed : if you pay me tAvo dollars and a 
 half a day, I Avill grant you the privilege of 
 submitting to my orders." One is often received 
 with a magnificent condescension, Avhich says, 
 as plainly as Avords : " See what a favor I am 
 doing you, in receiving you into my house!" 
 In realitj^ the house, the furniture, the servants, 
 do not belong to the landlord, but to the trav- 
 eler. I intend, some day, to Avrite an Essay on 
 Hotels, in which I shall discuss the subject at 
 length, and therefore Avill not anticipate it here.' 
 
 My friends v/ere delighted with Pittsfield,. 
 which, in its Summer dress, Avas new to me. - 
 We spent so much of our time at the Avindows, 
 watching the e\'ening lights on the mountains, 
 that it was unanimously resoh'ed to undertake 
 an excursion this morning before the arriA^al of 
 the express train for Boston. We took an open 
 carriage and drove out to .the Hancock Settle- 
 ment of Shakers, four miles Avest of this. The^ 
 roads Avere in splendid order, last night's rain- 
 having laid the dust, Avashed the trees, and ' 
 given the wooded mountains a deeper green, i 
 The elm, the characteristic tree of Ncav Eng- 
 land, charmed us by the variety and beauty of 
 its forms. The elm, rather than the pine, should 
 figure on the shield of Maine. In all other 
 trees — the oak, the beach, the ash, the maple, 
 the gum, and tulip trees, the pine, even — Mas- 
 sachusetts is surpassed by Pennsylvania, Vir- 
 ginia, Ohio, and Kentucky, but the elm is a 
 plume Avhich will never be plucked from her 
 bonnet. 
 
 "Here," said one of my companions, point- 
 ing to one of the manv Avooded knolls bv the 
 
TRAVELS AT HOME. 
 
 4S 
 
 roadside, " is one of the immeasurable advan- 
 tages wliicli America possesses over Europe. 
 Every one of these groves is a finished home, 
 lacking only the house. What we must wait 
 a century to get, what we must be rich in or- 
 der to possess, is here cheap and universal. 
 Build a house here or there, cut down a tree 
 or two to let in the distant landscape, clear 
 away some of the underwood, and you have a 
 princely residence." Bear in mind, my fash- 
 ionable readers, that my friend has only been 
 six weeks in America; that he has not yet 
 learned the difference between a brown-stone 
 front on Fifth Avenue and a clap-boarded house 
 in the country ; that (I blush to say it) he pre- 
 fers handsome trees out-of-doors to rosewood 
 furniture in-door>, and would rather break his 
 shins climbing the roughest hills than ride be- 
 hind matched bays in a carriage ornamented 
 with purchased heraldry. I admit liis want of 
 civilization, but I record this expression of his 
 taste that you may smile at the absurdity of 
 European ideas. 
 
 Our approach to the Shaker Settlement was 
 marked by the superior evidences of neatness 
 and care in cultivation. The road became an 
 avenue of stately sugar-maples: on the right 
 rose, in pairs, the huge, plain residences of the 
 brethren and sisters — ugly structures, dingy in 
 color, but scrupulously clean and orderly. I 
 believe the same aspect of order would increase 
 the value of any farm $5 an acre, so much 
 more attractive would the buyer find the prop- 
 erty ; but farmers generally don't understand 
 this. "We halted finally at the principal settle- 
 ment, distinguished by a huge circular stone 
 barn. The buildings stood upon a lot grown 
 with fresh turf, and were connected by flag- 
 stone walks. Mats and scrapers at the door 
 teetified to the universal cleanliness. While 
 waiting in the reception-room, which was plain 
 to barrenness, but so clean that its very atmos- 
 phere was sweet, I amused myself by reading 
 some printed regulations, the conciseness and 
 directness of which were refreshing. "Visi- 
 tors," so ran the first rule, "must remember 
 that this is not a public house. We have our 
 regulations just as well as other people, and 
 we expect that ours will be observed as others 
 expect theirs to be," Another was: "Those 
 who obtain lodging, or who are furnished with 
 meals at their own request, are expected to pay 
 
 for the same."" One of the most important, 
 apparently, was this: "Married persons visit- 
 ing the Family must occupy separate apart- 
 ments during tlie time of their stay." 
 
 Presently, an ancient sister made her appear- 
 ance. She wore a very plain book-muslin cap, 
 and a coarse blue gown, which hung so straight 
 to her feet that more than one under-garment 
 was scarcely possible. She informed us, cour- 
 teously, that curious strangers like ourselves 
 were not usually admitted, but made an ex- 
 ception in favor of my companions, seeing they 
 had come sucli a distance, and called one of 
 the brethren to show ns the barn. This is 
 really a curious structure. The inside is an 
 immense mow, divided into four sections for 
 ditferent kinds of hay. [N'ext to the Avail is a 
 massive platform, around which a dozen carts 
 can drive and unload at the same time. Under 
 this platform are the stables, ranged in a circle, 
 and able to accommodate a hundred cattle. 
 The brother, with an air of secresy which I 
 was slow to understand, beckoned the gentle- 
 men of our party to a portion of the stable 
 where he had a fine two-year-old bull, which, 
 he seemed to think, was not a proper animal 
 for ladies to look upon. 
 
 The sister afterward conducted us to the 
 dairy, where two still more ancient sisters were 
 engaged in cutting up curd for a cheese. They 
 showed us with considerable pride the press- 
 room, cheese-room, and milk-room, which were 
 cool and fragrant with the rich, nutritive smell 
 of cheese and whey. The dwellings of the 
 separated sexes, which I was most desirous to 
 see, Avere not exhibited. The sisters referred 
 us to Lebanon, where strangers are habitually 
 admitted. The only peculiarity of their speech 
 seemed to be the use of the " Yea " (which they 
 pronounce Tee) and "Kay," instead of "Yes" 
 and "No." Notwithstanding their apparent 
 cheerfulness and contentment, not one that 1 
 saw seemed to be completely h.ealthy. They 
 had a singularly dry, starved, hungry, lonelj 
 look, which— if it be the result of their celibate 
 creed — is a sufficient comment upon it. That 
 grace and melloAV ripeness of age which is so 
 beautiful and so attractive in the patriarch of 
 an abundant family, was wholly wanting. No 
 sweet breath of home warms their barren 
 chambers— the fancied purity of their lives is 
 like the vacuum of an exhausted receiver, 
 
46 
 
 C A T S K 1 L L . 
 
 whence nil uosious vapor may be extracted, ; Quota, over the blue bosom of which is to bt? 
 but the vital air with it. The purest life is seen the finest picture of Greylock. The whole 
 that of the wedded man and woman — the best | region is rich in pictures, and we are not at all 
 of Christians are the fathers and mothers. anxious for the arrival of the train which is to 
 
 We returned hither by tlie way of Lake bear us away. 
 
 From the New -York Christian Inquirer. 
 
 C^TSKILL 
 
 The charm of this exquisite summer resort 
 is woven of many threads, some darker, some 
 brighter, but all combining in harmony of 
 design and effect. — Thus it is a surprise to 
 catch the wilderness so near Broadway, to 
 take the beautiful, bird-like " Armenia, '' 
 under Capt. Smith, in the morning, and to sit 
 down at evening to hear the gossip of bears, 
 rattlesnakes, and avalanches; we live a long 
 day when we have thus the contrast of New 
 York and the mountain House in the journey 
 of a few hours. — The preparation is favorable, 
 too, for that illusion of the senses and the 
 mind, in which we best forget ourselves and 
 our customary moods, and embark upon a 
 new mental state. The sail up the imperial 
 Hudson, a great experience in itself ; the long 
 ride up the mountains, which seem to play the 
 coquette, and woo from afar their lovers, and 
 as fast as they approach retire to disappoint 
 them ; the gradual induction of the visitor, by 
 little and little, into the marvels and mysteries 
 of waterfall, and deep glens, and murmuring 
 woods, and colder airs, and. fragrant pines and 
 spruces — all put oif for us the shoes of care 
 and business and make us feel that the place 
 whereon we stand is holy ground. 
 
 At Mr. Beach's hospitable mansion of the 
 mountains, we stand two thousand eight hun- 
 dred feet above the level of the sea, an eleva- 
 tion nearly as great as the summit of the grand 
 Monadnock, and higher than that of Wachusett 
 or Ascutney. We cannot, indeed, at Catskill, 
 as on those "Starry-pointing pyramids," look 
 all around us, and discern the full amplitude 
 of the unimpeded horizon, but we have before 
 us what they have not — a river, and that river 
 the Hudson — the grandest water scenery in 
 America, and the loveliest mountain scenery, 
 brought into one landscape. "We have, too. 
 
 charm upon charm, the fairy, feathery Kaaters- 
 kill, added to what has gone before, thus em- 
 bodying mountain scenery, river scenery, and 
 cataract scenery, in one day's easy experience. 
 We have here, too, a charm of civilization 
 which is lacking in the savage out-look of Mt. 
 Washington, where is naught but wilderness, 
 everywhere wilderness. The patches of culture 
 interspersed with wood, the different colored 
 squares on the outspread map of ploughed land, 
 grass, grain, corn, meadow, woodland, rye, 
 oats, barley, makes as pretty a checker-board 
 for "the game of life" as one could well wish 
 to play on. — Here the glass reveals the smoke 
 slowly curling up from the cottage chimney ; — 
 there Hans is driving forth his kine to their 
 morning pasture ; here a schooner moves down 
 the silver-gleaming river; — and there a pigmy 
 horse and carriage creep like a larger ant along 
 the highway, while the fleecy vapors roll, and 
 toss, and transform, and vanish up the sides of 
 the mountain, and cross on the Berkshire Hills 
 miles and miles away. There is thus woven for 
 us a spell of mingled emotions, enchantment of 
 nature's wildest beauty, and the picture of 
 rural life in all its calmness and contentment. 
 
 Sixteen years had elapsed since we last look- 
 ed off upon this picture of loneliness and grand- 
 eur, from the most magnificent terrace on 
 earth. But man and time work few changes 
 here. Nature keeps her jewels in her own box, 
 and gets up no new fashions and freaks. Man, 
 respecting her august wishes, has as little as ' 
 possible changed his surroundings. — The steep, 
 the cataract, the wood, the mountain lakes, 
 the mighty slopes of the distant peaks of blue, 
 on all these man can write no line of his mo- i 
 dem invention, or make common or imclean;! 
 the sweetness and the sublimity of the ever— i 
 lasting hills. j 
 
A SABBATH ON THE CAT SKILLS. 
 
 47 
 
 Catskill has this advantage, too, tliat it lias a 
 permanent honse of abode, amid the very grand- 
 eurs, and fragrant scents, and tonic airs, and 
 inspiring '"dissolving views" of a high moun- 
 tain range. Visitors ascend other lofty peaks 
 to spend a few hours, or at most a night ; but 
 here they live for days and weeks, and are re- 
 galed in sense and soul with fresh spectacles, 
 morn, and noon, and dewey eve and solemn 
 midnight, and gray dawn. We are conscious — 
 a natural elfect, probably, of the purer air we 
 breath there — of a peculiarly clean and whole- 
 some influence from this tremendous plunge 
 up three thousand feet, into the great ether 
 bath of the sky. It is a purification of sense 
 and spirit conjointly. We feel less sinful than 
 when the arms of dame Earth hug us closer to 
 her breast, and smother us in her thick breath. 
 We have got a respite from her heavy air, and 
 are less slaves to her gravitation. The heavenly 
 powers have gained in attraction as she has 
 lost; and on the Catskill the footsteps lighten, 
 the lungs inhale a livelier oxygen, the nostrils 
 open wide to the sweet scent of the pines and 
 the hemlocks, and nature's charming cologne 
 of the forest. The peculiar exhilaration that 
 comes at Saratoga from the waters, at the 
 White mils from travel, and at Newport from 
 the salt brine, is steadily breathed here for 
 days as our common life-element, depending 
 simply upon the perpetual rarefied atmosphere 
 itself. 
 
 We find in the Mountain House. not a hotel, 
 
 but a home, quiet, comfortable and easy. There 
 is none of the stiti' finery, and endless i)rouien- 
 ading, and set-fashionableness, and sensation 
 parties of the lower-world watering places. 
 The lifting ofi;" of the ponderous atmosphere 
 has raised, too, the heavy pall of custom and 
 ceremony, and men and women move and talk 
 here more like themselves. Bsto perpetua. 
 
 One day we saw a rattlesnake, one of the 
 old settlers, that had been killed on the South 
 Mountain. lie was some five feet in length, and 
 had eleven rattles, indicating an age of four- 
 teen years. We also heard the stories of bears 
 taken near the lakes three years ago. So nature 
 maintains her wildness, and guards well her 
 pets up to the doors almost of the Mountain 
 House. The week before we were there, she had 
 given another touch of her fiercer moods, in 
 despatching an avalanche down the sides of the 
 South Mountain, and sweeping the heavy for- 
 est before it as so many feathers, and making 
 perceptible for many miles oft', the place of the 
 scalp torn from the lofty brow, now bald and 
 liere. 
 
 The sea, and mountain, and cataract — univer- 
 sities with which the great Instructor has pro- 
 vided us in America — are now about closing 
 for the long winter vacation. But they have 
 had many pupils and to not a few they have 
 taught lessons such as few books can give in 
 the love of the fair, and sublime, and good, 
 and happy, and led some adorning eyes to 
 look through nature up to nature's God. 
 
 A SABBATH ON THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 BY REV. THEODORE L. CUYLER. 
 
 Y£3t3rday was a golden Sabbath. With a 
 chastened warmth the sun-rays fell through 
 the crystal air — an air — so pure that the 
 slightest sound from cawing crow or whistling 
 robin in the pines beneath us, came up to our 
 ears distinctly. 
 
 " Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
 The bridal of the earth and sky." 
 
 By five o'clock, we were out upon the ledge 
 in front of the hotel, for you must remember 
 that the Mountain House is hung, like an 
 eagle's nest, right on the verge of the precipice. 
 
 As we came out to the table-rock, the sun was 
 just coming up to the horizon. Aurora, with 
 rosy finger, was opening the portals of the 
 east. A long, fleecy cloud, whose lower surface 
 was dyed with crimson, which faded into pink 
 and then into a pearl-white, lay motionless in 
 the glowing air. Between the Hudson and the 
 far-away hills of Berkshire were heaped up 
 banks of vapor which parted at the coming of 
 the king of day — like cohorts parting right and 
 left to receive an advancing sovereign. De- 
 tachments of mist were floating out from the 
 
48 
 
 A SABBATH OX THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 entrance of the " Clove," and moving off 
 toward the silver Hndson. Presently the river 
 began to turn to paley gold. Then hrighter. 
 Then redder. Then it burned into a molten 
 mirror of crimson, for the sun had already 
 passed up from the horizon and veiled his 
 glorious face behind the mantling cloud. So 
 screened was his brightness from the eye, that 
 we could look down undazzled upon the 
 gorgeous panorama of the veil beneath. Far 
 off toward the south, smoked the Highlands 
 with their morning incense. Nearer lay the 
 winding of the river before Hyde Park. Sau- 
 gerties with its white church-spires was at our 
 feet. A patch of green no larger than a man's 
 hand, on the opposite side of the river from 
 Catskill, marked the spot on which the painter 
 Church is gathering materials for his nest. The 
 cottage (Mrs. Cole's) in which with his new- 
 found mate, he is now waiting for the season ol 
 nidification, is also distinctly in view. Across 
 the field from the cottage stands the studio of 
 Cole, from which came forth the immortal 
 " Voyage of Life," and in which still remain the 
 unfinished " Cross and the World." Beyond this 
 haunt of genius lies the bay of Hudson, golden 
 in the sunlight — then the spires of Hudson 
 City — then verdant farms and forest, and in 
 the dim, mist covered background swell up- 
 ward the Green Mountains of Vermont. 
 
 A half-dozen of our fellow-lodgers, who, 
 like ourselves, wished to begin the day's wor- 
 ship early, were standing beside us on the 
 rocks, wrapped in cloaks and shawls. There 
 was a dim resemblance in the scene to a sun- 
 rise on the Righi. But alas ! no glaciers, no 
 sky-piercing pinnacle of ice, was in sight. No 
 sublimity either was there in our spectacle; 
 but there was beauty infinite, beauty beyond 
 aught that we have seen from mountain-top 
 before, beauty beyond the reach of words. The 
 sublime is only to be found at Catskill when a 
 thunder-storm is mustering its battalions and 
 discharging its terrific artillery among the "rat- 
 tling peaks." At other times, the one sensa- 
 tion that is inspired by every varying view 
 from sunrise to sunset, is that of beauty un- 
 ending and illimitable. And never is the 
 spectacle so surpassingly beautiful as at the 
 day-dawn of a summer's morn. 
 
 Gradually our shivering, early worshipers 
 stole back to their rooms, (and to their beds,) 
 
 for tlie breakfast gong did not sound until 8 
 o'clock. Then we rallied — three hundred 
 strong — in the saloon, as healthy and hungry 
 
 a group as Brother B ever musters at his 
 
 hospitable board in "Woodstock. After break- 
 fast, the large company gathered in groups 
 upon the ledge until the hour of service, or, 
 with book in hand, strolled up into the thickets 
 towards South Mountain. A few drove off to 
 the Kauterskill Falls about three miles distant; 
 but the Sabbath arrangements of our Sabbath- 
 observing host were cordially responded to by 
 nine-tenths of all his guests. This house is a 
 " sweet home " all the week, and a sanctuary 
 on the Lord's day. 
 
 At eleven o'clock a gong sounded through 
 the halls, and the parlors were soon filled by a 
 quiet, reverential audience. A pulpit was cs- 
 temporized in one corner of the drawing-room, 
 quite as much of a pulpit as that from behind 
 which Boanerges thunders every Sunday in 
 Plymouth church. "We had delightful music, 
 for the leader of the " Frsit Dutch Church '* 
 of Brooklyn, with his accomplished soprano^ 
 were present. Their rich voices led ours, as 
 we joined in good old " Coronation ;" and with 
 swelling chorus shouted out, " Rise, my soul 
 and stretch thy wings," in a style that would 
 have gladdened Father Hasting's soul. A 
 stout substantial Scotch divine gave us a dis- 
 course quite Chalmerian in character, on the 
 "wondrous works of God" in creation, pro- 
 vidence, and redemption. "We all like his 
 Scotch brogue exceedingly ; it is an unctuous 
 brogue whether for song or for sermon ; whether 
 in Burns's lyrics or from Guthrie's pulpit. In 
 that Gselicized English have been delivered 
 many of the most magnificent discourses of 
 modern days. In the afternoon our hotel con- 
 gregation gathered again to hear a discourse 
 from your Brooklyn friend on " Love for 
 Christ as the inspiration and joy of the Christ- 
 ian's life." Even a third service in the evening 
 was crowded to the door! Again our good 
 dominie fi'om the "land o' brown heath" ad- 
 dressed us — his subject being the "Sepulchre 
 in the Garden;" — again our eyes were lifted 
 toward the everlasting hUls whence cometh all 
 our help — again our voices rang out upon the 
 still mountain air as we joined in singing 
 " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people." "When 
 the company separated, unwearied, to their 
 
A SABBATH ON THE CAT3KILLS, 
 
 49 
 
 rooms, the general utterance was : NVluit a 
 blessed 8abbath we have had ! a more de- 
 lightful we never passed than this Sabbath 
 on ihe Catskills. 
 
 Yesterday was clear iVom dawn Lo twi- 
 light. To-day the drenching rain is pouring- 
 down the window pane. Over the ledge lies 
 an Athudic of vapor without sail or shore, 
 fuid through the hendocks on JS'ortli Moun- 
 tain the wind brattles like a hurricane. We 
 are disappointed of our expected ride thro' 
 the CiOn\ a deej) ravine Avliich was the fa- 
 vorite haunt of Cole, and of his pupil Church. 
 (.)ver all this region these two sous of nature 
 rambled together; their names are as thor- 
 uughly identitied with it as the name of 
 Scott with the Eildon Hills, or that of Irving 
 -villi the Hudson. Great as is "-.he fame of 
 Cole, it is not outstripped by his more cele- 
 brated pupils. No production of Turner is 
 superior to the Heart of the Andes — not even 
 the " Snnset view' of Cologne" or the "Build- 
 ing of Carthage." Claude is the acknowledg- 
 e<l prince of landscape painters, yet in a dis- 
 tant laud of which Claude had never heard, 
 has risen up a youth who need not fear to have 
 his productions hung on the same wall with 
 the masterpieces of the man wJiose pictures 
 used to sell for as much gold as would cover 
 the canvass. Were the '' Twilight in the 
 Wilderness" to be found a few years hence 
 in some dusty corner of an Italian convent, 
 it might pass for a gem of Venetian or Flor- 
 entine genius. Yet its author once played. 
 
 a Yankee boy, in the streets of Hartford, 
 and learned the secrets of his wondrous art, 
 — not in foreign galleries, but in yonder 
 glorious Clove-gallery of rocks and mountain 
 pines biult by the Almighty arm. 
 
 The Kauterskill Falls our readers have 
 seen in scores of engravings. ' We spent an 
 hour amiil the spray-bath at their base on 
 Saturday. There is a double fall whose 
 united height is 250 feet. Old Leather- 
 stocking photographed it tinely when he 
 said "the hand that made the Kauterskill 
 Leap never made a mill I The water lirst 
 comes crooking and winding among the 
 rocks, so slow that a trout could swim in it, 
 and then starting just like any creater that 
 wautcil to make a far spring till it gets to 
 where the mountain divides like the cleft hoof 
 of a deer, and leaves a deep deep holler for 
 the brook to tumble into. The first pitch 
 is uigh two hundred feet, and the water 
 looks like flakes of driven snow afore it 
 touches the bottom ; there the stream gathers 
 for a new start, and maybe flutters over fifty 
 feet of flat rock before it falls for another 
 hundred, when it jumps about from shelf to 
 shelf, first turnin!:: this-a-way and then turn- 
 ing that-a-way, trying to get out of the 
 holler, till it finally comes to the Clove. — 
 To my judgment, lad, them falls is the best 
 piece of work I've met with in the woods; 
 and none know God's works in the wilder- 
 ness like them who rove it for a man's life.'' 
 Amen to Leatherstocking ! f^ 
 
 CATSK.Il_l_ = 
 JOSEPH JOESBURY, 1500K AND JOB PEINTER, -JOURNAL OFFICE." 
 
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