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happy,” I descried darting rapidly before me,
a sprite-like figure, robed in spotless white.
The speed of the errant maiden increased as
I hastened my step, until stumbling over some
unseen object, she sank upon the ground. I
dashed onward to the rescue, and raising the
exhausted girl, sought to restore life and ani
mation. That she might not be alarmed, upon
returning consciousness, by any unnecessary
fears of the character of her unexpected com
panion, I suffered some sketches to fall from
my portfolio, where they might meet her
gaze.
The moon-beams which had hitherto been
hidden by clouds, blazed full upon us, and as
my fair inconnue opened her eyes, they rested
upon the fallen drawings, which she instantly
recognised as some of those she had seen at
the village that afternoon, and I recalled the
features of the fair face which I had observed
from the carriage window, on my return from
the Plauterkill.
As I am now a grave tourist, and not an
idle romancer, I must hasten with my narra
tive, saying only that a very few phrases suf
ficed for all necessary explanations, and that
we quickly became good friends. I learned
that the fair wanderer had, in obedience to
an impulse to be “in tbe wilderness alone,”
stolen forth from the circle of merry-makers
in doors, to hold converse with great nature
without. “ I have,” she answered, when I
ventured a query as to how she could thus
ramble alone in such desolate haunts, “ passed
through so many startling scenes of danger,
that adventure has now for my fancy, a spe
cies of fascination like that which impels one
to gaze at the serpent, dash headlong from
the brow of a precipice, or risk his little all
at the gaming-table. I feel now an uncon
querable disposition to brave again those or
kindred perils, and I involuntarily place my
self, with a singular species of wild deiight,
in the way of any and every danger.”
“Indeed,” I replied, “you have certainly a
very singular propensity, which 1 might, per
haps, better understand, if you should nar
rate to me some of the many hair breadth on
oapco of wiitcn you speak.”
“Willingly,” she answered; “but as our
time now will not suffice for more than one,
it shall be an incident which happened to me
in this very region of the Catskill, during a
visit some few years since. I made an ex
cursion one morning, together with some
friends, to the “ South Mountain,” the peak
a mile or two yonder below us. Time passed
swiftly and pleasantly as we delighted our
selves with the pleasures of the walk, and in
gazing upon the sublime panorama of valley
and river and far-off mountain range, opened
to our view. When satisfied with these nov
•
elties, our party rambled off in groups and
couples, to gossip or to hunt the whortleberry,
which is to be found here in such abundance.
My own gallant cavalier took a fancy to a
more serious chase, as he thought he had
caught a glimpse of a passing deer. Set
ting off in pursuit, he left me alone, and tired
by the exercise and excitement of the day. I
established myself lazily under the shade of
a brave old oak, and soon fell asleep. When
I opened my eyes after a refreshing nap, I
caught those of a savage creature, which I
afterwards learned was a panther, glaring
upon me from a bough of the very tree under
which I was lying. My first impulse was to
shriek for aid, but I instantly recollected to
have heard that the wild beast never attacks
its prey while sleeping, and I re-closed my
eyes, scarcely daring to respire, so intense
was my fright. I remained thus, motionless,
breathless and terror-stricken, for an hour—
to me it seemed a year —without venturing
to look up, excepting only once, and then I
again encountered the frightful deadly glare
of the panther. At length, to my inexpressi
ble delight, I heard the voice of my truant
companion, calling my name as he drew r near
er and nearer. But I felt it impossible to an
swer, and anew horror seized upon my soul,
3 .r) 1J -J* dJ 2; ii j'J & a ITU &AIE ¥ SASSIfIFS*
when the danger to which he was himself
exposed occurred to my mind. My agony
was too much, and 1 was upon the point of
warning him of his fate, by sacrificing, as I
knew I must, my own life, when the report
of a gun struck my ear, and a heavy object
seemed to fall at my feet, while the forest
echoed with an unearthly shriek of death. I
sprang up and sank senseless into the arms
of my brave deliverer. When my conscious
ness had returned, it needed but a glance to
explain the happy circumstances of my es
cape from the terrible death which but an in
stant before bad seemed inevitable. My com
panion at my side and the slain panther at
my feet told their own story, as well as he
himself afterwards related it. How, failing
in his chase for the deer, he bad hastened
back, and descrying me motionless upon the
ground, and the forest monster watching me
from above, he had supposed me slain, and
with the quick, unerring aim of desperate ven
geance, had brought him to the earth. Never
shall I forget that terrible day,” added my
fair companion, as she ended this very agree
able little narrative!
By this time we were approaching the ho
tel, and my heroine intimating her wish to
reenter without observation, flitted from my
sight and left me to make my debut, in the
usual mundane manner.
After the necessary repairs in the matter of
toilet and table, I ventured to peep into the
drawing-room, where, in a large and gay as
semblage, I greeted more than one old friend
or city acquaintance. But as I was not ex
actly in the vein for a “ sly flirtation by the
light of a chandolier,” and more especially,
perhaps, as my unknown friend did not make
her reappearance, I stole away to gaze from
the edge of the rocky parapet, upon which
the beautiful edifice of the “ Mountain House”
is built—upon the grand and, in the moon
light, illimitable valley a thousand feet below.
The “ Mountain House,” perched on the
summit of one of the eastern ridges of the
Catskills, and having in its immediate vici
nage, many of the sweetest attractions of
those noble hills, is a large and picturesque
structure of wood, built originally by an as
sociation of speculators, at the cost of more
than twenty thousand dollars. It has from
time to time been since refitted and enlarged,
until it now affords all the conveniences and
elegancies of our most recherche metropolitan
hotels. The portico of massive Corinthian
columns, which runs the entire lengta of the
fa9ade, presents a most imposing appearance,
whether it be seen from the mountain top. the
road below, or from the bosom of the far-off
Hudson. The elevated ledge upon which it
is built commands one of the most extended
and varied panoramic views in the world,
stretching from Long Island Sound in the
South, to the White Mountains in the North.
All these attractions, added to the cool and
grateful atmosphere which one never fails to
find here, and the health and life-giving
breezes which ever fill the air, have made
it a place of great and favorite resort for those
who, in the summer months, can steal away
from the city and its cares. Stage-coaches
will convey the traveller there, at almost any
hour of the day, from the river landing at
Catskill. He will find this short journey of
twelve miles extremely pleasant, with an ex
cellent road traversing a country of continu
ally varying aspect. As he ascends the
mountain, he may pause upon the very knoll
where the world-renowned Rip Van Winkle
so quietly snoozed away so long a period of
his life, or he may muse on other scenes bap
tized in the legendary associations of the Red
man.
But I must hasten over other spots which
I purpose to visit in this chapter.
On the morning following the incidents
which I have just narrated, I rose betimes to
witness the grand effect of the rising of the
sun, upon the distant landscape. It is seldom
that the sublime spectacle can be seen under
such fitting circumstances as here. On this
occasion, the monarch of the morn rose in the
bright orient, with but a few fleeting clouds
to obscure his beams, or, rather, to welcome
his approach; for they seemed to be his cher
ished friends, as they laughed and danced
with fresh beauty and grace, when his burn
ing caress called the rich crimson to their face.
The dense sea of vapor which overhung and
completely obscured the wide-spread valley,
far below us, was broken as by the wand of
an enchanter, soaring into the upper air like
the smoke of a thousand watch-fires. It was
a glorious sight thus to watch hill upon hill,
stream upon stream, fields and trees, and plain
and glen shoot forth into life and beauty, and
laugh and sing in their mad joy, at the com
ing of the king of day.
While some of our party thus truly en
joyed the pleasures of tbe scene, it was amu
sing to observe the terrible martyrdom which
others seemed to suffer as they stood half
dressed and shivering in the chilliness of the
early morning air, vainly essaying to sum
mons up a love and admiration of nature,
which they never felt. Others had made a
compromise between the respect they felt to
be due to the spirituelle and their real preju
dice in favor’of tbe physical, by peeping at
the scene from their chamber windows, where
might be descried many a sleepy noddle, with
a most incomprehensible head dress. Others
again, boldly throwing off all affectation of a
virtue they did not possess, slept soundly in
their beds.
Our first excursion after breakfast, was to
the North Mountain, one of the lions of the
region. This favorite spot, easily accessible
in an hour’s walk, commands a most beauti
ful and picturesque view of the House and all
its surroundings. The “Two Lakes” sleep
peacefully in their mountain hammocks,
while a glimpse of the great valley may be
caught upon the East, and range upon range
of mighty hills upon the West. One of the
finest pictures of the late Mr. Cole, whose ge
nius has added anew charm to his much
loved Catskills, was a view of this exquisite
panorama.
The next pilgrimage which the tourist is
expected to make, is to the gentle lakes,
which we have just seen from the North
Mountain; and thence to the falls which we
have already studied by moon-light. An easy
wagon passes from the House to these points
at intervals throughout the day, but a verita
ble “Syntax,” will turn up his picturesque
nose at the unpoetical conveyance, and bless
the man who first invented boots.
A few minutes walk from your hotel, will
bring you to the margin of the upper or Syl
van Lake, a view of which accompanies this
chapter. You may pass an hour or two de
lightfully, in strolling upon the pleasant
shores, or you may enter one of the skiffs
which skim the waters, and mingle your
voice in happy song, with the murmur of the
breeze which never fails to play with the
bright image cast by tree and rock and sail,
in the pellucid bosom of the lake. When
these more boisterous expressions of pleasure,
which the scene will always draw from the
coldest hearts, are spent, you may give your
thoughts to the poetic page or to the dreams
of the romancer, occasionally glancing at the
fly which you have cast upon the water to
lure the wary trout. In short, unless you
can find here, some or other source of pleas
ure, God pity you, unhappy man !
The lakes supply the water for the beauti
ful falls of the Katterskill, at which you next
arrive. Coming from the Mountain House,
you of course, first see them from above. Be
fore you commence the descent of the long
flights of wooden stairs, which conduct the
visitor to the base of the cataracts, you will
enter a very convenient and pleasant sort of
case, where you may strengthen your physi
cal man, with any species of refreshment,
from brandy-punch, (in the quality of which
you may place the extremest confidence of
true love,) to a cooling ice-cream or lemonade.
At the same time you may relieve yourself
still further, by lightening your purse to the
extent of a “quarter,” which the placards
posted around, will inform you it is expected
that gentlemen will pay, to keep the steps,
faffs and guides in order. This assessment
fils?> rewards the Neptune of the place, my
friend Peter Scutt, whose acquaintance you
must not fail to make, for letting off the wa
ter ! For be it known unto you, that a dam
is built above these falls, by which ingenious
means, the stream —restrained from wasting
n
its sweetness on the desert air—is peddled
out, wholesale and retail, at the rate of two
and a half dimes a splash! Cooper, descri
bing these falls in his “Pioneer,” says, “the
stream is, may be, such a one as would turn
a mill, if so useless a thing was wanted in
the wilderness; but the hand that made that
‘Leap,’ never made a mill!” Alas! since
Cooper wrote the wilderness has commenced
“to blossom as the rose,” and the free torrent
is now chained by the cold shackles of the
spirit of gain.
But happily, after being thus bound in its
course, it laughs with greater glee when re
leased ; and one will forget, while he gazes
spell-bound upon the world of spray, that like
the sunshine in his own heart, it will not al
ways last.
To continue our loan from the graphic pic
ture in the “Pioneer,” “The water comes
croaking and winding among the rocks, first
so slow that a trout might swim in it, and
then starting and running, like any creature
that wanted to make a fair spring, till it gets to
where the mountain divides like the cleft foot
of a deer, leaving a deep hollow for the brook
to tumble into. The first pitch is nigh two hun
dred feet, and the water looks like flakes of
snow afore it touches the bottom, and then
gathers itself together again for anew start;
and, may be, flutters over fifty feet of flat
rock, before it falls for another hundred feet,
when it jumps from shelf to shelf, first run
ning this way and that way, striving to get
out of the hollow, till it finally comes to the
plain.”
When you reach the base of the first fall,
your guide will, perhaps, conduct you over a
narrow ledge, behind the water, as at “ Ter
mination Rock” at Niagara. ThGn reaching
the green sward on the opposite side, you may
make a signal to Peter Scutt, who will be look
ing over the piazza of his case above, and if you
have settled between you the telegraphic
alphabet, in such case made and provided, he
will attach a basket to the projecting pole,
and incontinently there will descend, sundry
bottles of the very coolest and most sparkling
champaigne, of which the vineyards of France
ever dreamed. You may then repose your
self half an hour or more, upon the mossy
couch aforesaid, imbibe Neptune’s nectar,
and when your quarter’s worth of cascade is
spent, you may remount the steps to the sum
mit of the fall, with the ease and lightness of
a bird.
DIAMONDS.
And the sparkling stars began to shine
Like scatter’d geins in the diamond mine.
The diamond is chiefly found in the prov
inces of Golconda and Visiapour, and also
in that of Bengal. Raolconda, in Visiapour,
and Gandicotta, are famed for their mines, as
is Coulour in Golconda. The diamond is
generally found in the narrow crevices of
rocks, loose, and never adherent to the fixed
stratum. The miners, with long iron rods,
which have hooks at the ends, pick out the
contents of the fissures, and wash them in
tubs, in order to extricate the diamonds. In
Coulour they dig on a large plain, the
depth of ten or fourteen feet; forty thousand
persons are employed ; the men to dig and the
women and children to carry the earth to the
places where it is to be deposited till the
search is made.— From a note to “ Ocean Cav
erns.”
MONEY.
Those who have money are troubled about it,
And those who havo none aro troubled without it.