Picturesque America

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';>PR.
PICTURESQUE AMERICA;
OR,
THE LAND WE LIVE
IN.
A DELINEATION BY PEN AND PENCIL

OF
THE MOUxNTAINS, RIVERS, LAKES, FORESTS, WATER-FALLS, SHORES, CANONS, VALLEYS, CITIES, AND OTHER PICTURESQUE FEATURES OF OUR COUNTRY.
^liîth
;aUu.^tntiott5
ou ^tccl and î*oo(l by (Eminent
Jmmcan
%xX\^\%
EDITED BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
VOL.
II
NEW YORK
D.
5
APPLETON AND COMPANY

49
&
551
BROADWAY
SEEN BY
PRESERVATION
SERVICES
AUG
DATE..
2 7 1993
ENTERKD, according
U.
to
the year ,874, by Act of Congress, in
APPLETON AND COMPANY,

at
Librarian of Congress, 1. the Office of the
Washington.
CONTENTS, VOLUME SECOND.
SUBJECT.
HIGHLANDS ANil) PALISADES OF THE HUDSON.

PHILADELPHIA AND
ITS
E.
L.
BURLINGAME.
Harry Finn.
SUBURBS.
C.
D.
F.
G.\RDETTE.
WlLLI.\.MS.
Granville Perkins.
NORTHERN NEW
JERSEY.
W.
VALLEY OF THE CONNECTICUT.

BALTIMORE AND ENVIRONS.
W.
J.
C.
RlCH.^RDS.
C.
Carpenter.
A.
THE CATSKILLS.
Henry
R. E.
Brown.
THE JUNIATA.
ON THE OHIO.
Garczynski.
F.
Constance
Woolson.
THE PLAINS AND THE
SIERRAS.
e.
l.
burlingame.
Garczynski.
THE SUSQUEHANNA.
BOSTON.
R.
G. O.
E.
M.
B.
Towle.
BUNCE.
LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN.
MOUNT MANSFIELD.
VALLEY OF THE HOUSATONIC.
RossiTER Johnson.
W.
R.
C
E.
Richards.
THE UPPER
MISSISSIPPI.
Garczynski.
VALLEY OF THE GENESEE.

ST.
W.
W.
G.
S.
Ward.
Rideing.
LAWRENCE AND THE SAGUENAY.
H.
EASTERN SHORE.
M. Towle.
THE ADIRONDACK REGION.
Robert Carter.
THE CONNECTICUT SHORE OF THE SOUND.

LAKE MEMPHREMAGOG,
W.
C.
Richards.
RiDEIxVG.
W.
H.
IV
CONTENTS, VOLUME SECOND.

SUBJECT.
THE MOHAWK, ALBANY, AND TROY. THE UPPER DELAWARE.

WATER-FALLS AT CAYUGA LAKE.
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

THE CANONS OF THE COLORADO.
CHICAGO AND MILWAUKEE.
A GLANCE AT THE NORTHWEST.
THE MAMMOTH CAVE.
NEW YORK AND BROOKLYN.

WASHINGTON.
LIST OF
ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.
VOLUME
S
CO
ND
SUBJECT.
.URTIST.
NEW
YORK, FROM BROOKLYN HEIGHTS.

CAPITOL.
DOME OF THE
WEST
POINT.
MOUTH OF THE MOODNA.

PHILADELPHIA, FROM BELMONT.
CONNECTICUT VALLEY, FROM MOUNT TOM.

BALTIMORE, FROM DRUID-HILL PARK.
SUNRISE,
FROM SOUTH MOUNTAIN, CATSKILL.
CITY OF CINCINNATI.
CITY OF LOUISVILLE.
EMIGRANTS CROSSING THE PLAINS.

CALIFORNIANS LASSOING BEAR.
THE SUSQUEHANNA.
BOSTON, FROM SOUTH BOSTON.
LAKE GEORGE.
THE HOUSATONIC. THE CITY OF

QUEBEC.
ST.
LOUIS.
BEVERLY COAST, ^L\SSACHUSETTS.
VI
LIST OF ENGRA\L\GS
SUBJECT.
OX STEEL.
adirondack woods.
i;ast rock,
new haven.
the rocky mountains.

city of milwaukee.
terrace, central park.
washington, from arlington heights.
PICTURESQUE AMERICA.
Po'.ighkeepsie,
and Us Foundeiies
at Xijjlit.
HIGHLANDS AND PALISADES OF THE HUDSON.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRY
FE N
TO
perfect
those
offer
who
in
arc willing; to accept
such
unobtrusiYC companionship as
we haYC
to
this artist's
river,
voyage among the noblest scenes of our most

say at the beginning that
beautiful
and
tra-
American
we must
we
shall
not
follow
the
To
hini
il
ditions of the ordinary -uidc.

cllcT to
mnttcrs
little
In
what
path
he
leads
trav-
he the most trlorious outlook, nor does
carr
lor
his
ohscrver's
irame
of mind;
Rhine-fall from the back-door of a dingy beer-house, and hr will siiddenlv show you the through the dusty window of a hackney-coach. point out .\-our first view of Niagara especially, among the To us, the way of approach seems of no little moment and here
;
scenes
we know
so well,
we have our
fixed ideas of the traveller's
most
satisfying course.
The
is
true wa\-, then, to learn the noblest beauties
of the
Hudson's grandest region,

voyage from some
to
enter
the
Highlands with the
river's
course
beginning the
of the stream, and noting the gradual point al)0\e, watching the growing picturesqueness their outline, and the deepening majesty of rise -of the hills, the increasing grandeur of
their presence, until, with his heart full
of this slowly-gaining
beauty, one
finds
himself
among
the perfect pictures which
lie
in the very
midst of the mountain-group.
Let us
dis-
from enter on our journey in search of the picturesque, then,

tance up the river.
some point
lies
at
a little
Newburg
is
too near the Highlands;
it
in the
shadow of
their
The Hudson, south from Newbuvg.
HIGHLAXDS AND PALISADES OF THE HUDSON.
<^'^^
"-^/^
very gates
gin
''''^
let
us
at
bethat
our voyage
point of practical as well

theoretical
as
convenience
at
Poughkeepsie.
Indeed, our place of departure
is
itself,
in
the
matter
not
to
of
picturesque
despised.
outlook,
lies
be
The
"rural
city,"
as
one of our writers has called

a
it,
very
pleasantly
river-
upon
view.
its
group of gentle
da\',
hills,
and overlooks
a
little
bright
and sunny portion

of
its
of the
By
one may quarrel
with
the
smoke
busy foundcrics, but

in
by
night these
become the most
strangely beautiful
light the river
in
and striking feature

beacons, and
man\ miles of
sound of
that
their
toil
the Hudson's scenery.

great furnaces
They
like weird
the
comes across the water
the stillness, as the

all
panting
of giants
when
the weaker forces of the world are
asleep.
Our
"
departure
"
from
Poughkeepsie
allows
us
to
approach
river's
the
Highlands bv the
that
Long Reach
tiiat
quiet and
sunny portion of the

beautiful
course
here
lies
like
Its
;
broad, straight avenue between the

is
banks, for
more than twenty
miles.
upper extremity
at
Croni
Elbow
the
Krom
Ellcboge of the old Dutch settlers
its
PIC TURESQ UE A MERICA.

lower
iiiu;
is
at
it,
Ncwhuru'.
Sail-
clown
we
pass
many
history,
jjoinls
wiiitli
llu'n
as
well
as
their
beauty,
I
niakc'S
noteworthw
eastern
Icrc,
on
the
hank, two
miles
below
the
town,
is
Loeust
(irove,
entitled
to
remembrance
as tl;e
rimimer
home
the
of Morse, whose of
to
his
all
name
wires
told
telegraph
the world.
farther
have
mile
or
two
on,
where Spring Brook

into the
comes
Hudson,
lived stout
Theophilus
blacksmith,
a
Anthony,
centuiy
to
the
ago,
who
helped
forge
the
great chain that once guard-
ed the river
at
Fort
ISIontstill
gomerv, below.
in
Farther
lie
the
Long Reach
little
the
bright
villages
of Milal-
ton
and
Marlborough,
most hidden from the
river
by the high banks; we pass
New Hamburg,
into sad
too,
called
prominence a year
or
two ago by one of the

all
terrible disasters that are
too
common now
on
our
the
and
so,
noting
Fishkill
picturesque
left,
little
we
come
upon
beautiful
Newburg
l)erfect
Bay
the
the
most
of the Hudson's har-
bors.
Close
by
gate
of
the Highlands, opposite
the
HIGHLANDS AND PALISADES OF THE IHDSON

one shouUl miss.
i\nd
now
\vr arc
within the gates of the Highlands themselves,
in
the
presence of the great Storm-King and the dark pile of the Cro'-Nest.
To
have
a
us these two noble mountains
are
the
to
grandest
live in
of the
Highland
for
range.
hey
charm that might induce
man
da)'
their
shadow
no other purpose
than to have them always before him,
and night, to study their ever-changing beauty.
For they
are never twice alike;

sides,
the clouds
make varying
pictures
effects
all
day long on
tiirir
wooded
and nowhere have we seen more wonderful
of shadow
and sun-
frown
of
a
low thunder-cloud
take
they
on
grim
majesty that makes their

black masses strangely threatening and weird
;
one
^vs
Glimpse of the Hudson from Fort Putnam.
forgets to
measure their height, and
their massive,
strongly-marked features, by any

of
cver)'-day
common
they
standard
measurement,
and
seem
to
tower and overshadow

the
all
the scene around

the
them, like the ven- rulers and
controllers
of
coming storm.
it
And when
sunlight
comes back
again,
they
seem
to
have
brou^rht
and to look down with a bright benignity,
like giant protectors of
the valley
that lies below.
Beyond them, on
at
remarkable and beautiful promontory, extending
into
the
river
lies
what seems
Point.
to
It
us
lias
the
most
perfect
point of the
whole course of the

In
its
Hudson,
West
always been to us an ideal place.
shores, every
view of
Pit Ti 'RHSQ UE
'
A ME RICA.
which
is
full
of picturesque
charm
in
the
its
dark
hills;
backin
around of
aspect
in
the
somewhat unusual our America of

and
all
its
earthworks
defences,
and
the
surroundino^s
it
that have
been given
its
by
the long years of
occu-
pancy
as a military school
plain,
innts broad
the
central
action,
forming
ground of huoji
man
great
which the
natural
amphitheatre
si-
of the
lently
Highlands looks
down
of
even
its
in
the
grouping
buildings,
cluster
of
*"
and
in the
pictuit,
resque
monuments about
up so many
View south from
the
Academy Grounds.
that call
mem
a
cries, there
seems to us
harmony
attractive
of beauty that
makes the
site
of our important mili-
tary post one of the

.
most
spots in the whole country.

itself
It is
of the Hudson from West Point, too, that the most satisfying views
are

fact that shot
ii
from the vessels

that lead
in the river
now and
then struck the rocks not
far
away.
Along
cliffs,
the
paths
from
one to another of these natural terraces are smooth

victories
on which the names of famous

and
ferns
have been cut
in
large,
bold
letters;
the
vines
give
to
these
natural
frames of green, and
the
plain
records are the
most
perfect that could have
been
devised
better
than any
tablets
of less noble
sim-
plicity.
There
is
no lack of memorial-stones erected by men's hands, however; here and

foliage
there a
hero,
column or an obelisk looks out from the
monument
existence
to
some army
who once went

the corps."
out into earnest battle from the
quiet
and petty events
of
"
Down
lives of
b\'
the most beautiful
part
of the
shore
runs
the
path
memorable
souls
"
in
the
countless fledgling soldiers
that
is
has
been
named by profane
Flirtation
Walk
"
designation at which the heart of any
man
ideal
it
over two-and-twenty must sink, in

of beauty
a
;
despair of his race.
For the path

hills
perfect
at
every point
life
of
its
course there are glimpses of
and
for
river that
makes
man's whole
better to
have seen
and yet
title
it
must
exist
whole generations more of gray-clad youngsters
under the
tion
of "Flirtation
Walk!"
there
is
Not
that
we
quarrel with the fact

for tender passages
of the
flirta-
under
it
sun,
moon, or
stars,
no such place
and summer
things,
love-making
christen
but
whv
did not
some young
ever
so
hero, with his
memonthat
full
of these
by anv
name, though
ultra-sentimental,
rules
1
would commemorate
them
better than the chosen title that
now
From
the shady nooks of the
West Point
shores one
may
look out upon parts
of
the opposite
bank
that
are, in
their
little
it
quieter fashion, also beautiful.

village
Opposite the prom-
ontor}^ of the
Point
lies
the
of Cold
Spring
into
bright
group of houses
by the water.
Above and below

little
the shore rises

St.
high, steep
banks, and
for
on one
a
pict-
of these stands the

ure, that
church of
Mary's, which Mr.
Fenn has chosen
might almost persuade one he was looking upon some view of a

river
little
chapel
in
its
crowning the rocks bv an old

features to the
of Europe, so
quaint
scenes.
is
it,
and so
l)y
it
foreign
ordinary aspect
of our
American
in
Near
;
the the
railway runs
little
along the bank and through a rough tunnel

looks like a mediaeval building, as
of to-day.
far
the ragged point

as
but
the
church
progress
removed
possible
from
practical
But we must not long

the beauties that
to
digress from the detail
even
though
it
be
so
meagre
of
One
more
closely surround the

if
West Point
plain.
We
should be unfaithful
our duties as gnide
we
did not lead the looker-on at these favorite scenes of ours
to
some few more of the

is
points from which he will carry

itself
away pleasant memories.

arrival
of these
the landing-place
at
is
which he
carried
finds
himself upon
by the ordi-
nary^ route
from the city;
for
one
little
by the
train
to Garrison's,
on the Hudson's
eastern side, and thence in a
steamer across the

is
river,
and
is
landed at the foot of

above, and
built
the
cliffs
of the promontory.
Here
a road leading to
the
plain
by
12
steep
face
the engineers in a single long slope from the water, along the
to the point
of the
shore,
where
it
again reaches level ground.

in
It
is
to this road
and the views seen

notice.
from
it
tliat
we would,
guide-book
u])
manner,
call
the
reader's
Whoever
is
sound
in
wind and limb should walk
the long, regularly-graded ascent, and
now and
trees,
felt
then look
down
it
at
the river.
else.
It
lies
below him, seen through the branches of the

is
as he will see
nowhere
Such a sense of overhanging the water
hardly
even on the Palisades themselves.
The
rocks above and below the road are grouped
in
Anthony's Nose, from the Western Shore.
rough, massive forms
the sense of height
is
far
greater than actual measurement would

striking,
warrant
;
and the outlook, wherever one

this,
turns,
is
and such
along the
as will
cliff
be gained
from perhaps no other point but
midway
in the slope
On
east,
the opposite side of the promontory from this, and

is
some
distance
beyond the
north
all
academy grounds,
and lying
the cemetery of the post.

plain
Overlooking the
cliffs,
river to
the
and
day
in a little level in
above the
where the sunlight

in
falls
long,
and where every thing
scene
and surrounding seems to join
giving quiet

and peaceful beauty to
such
a
it,
13
it
is
resting-place
as
any
sol-
man might
dier's
is
choose after a
life.
stormy
Here
Scott
buried,
and here are many

fame
heroes
of
more or
all
less
widely spread
the
to
honored by
younger men growing up

take
their
places,
with
an
honor partly made up of generous

like
ambition
to
go and do
admi
ab-
them, partly of an
for
ration
stract,
bravery
in
the
and partly of the nameand

indescribable
senti-
less
ment of veneration
about the
uate."
that hangs
of
"
memory
us,
a grad-
To
the
cemetery
old
Cro'-
overlooked by dark
Nest
river
looking
far
down
;
on
the
below
quiet
;
and
silent,
peaceful in the sunlight
yet
stars
never
;
gloomy, under' the

it
scarcely touched,
would
seem, even by the winds of the
Highland
the
storms
Point
is
among
that
West
scenes
seems most
beautiful.
We
Point
thing
must
not
leave
the
without
of
the
its
saying
some-
associations,
which, besides
it
beauty,
make
to
place
full
of
interest
every
traveller
through
the
Hudson's
-are
scenery.
For
not every
a
here
the
scenes
to
of
few
one's
events
which
memory
turns
back
familiarly,
Near Anthony's Nose
at
Night.
and the whole neighborhood
is
14
the most
among
famous regions of our

if
history.
During the
War
us
of the
Revolution,
West Point
in
tiie
was,
not the principal, at least one of the
most important military posts

nt)\v,
it
country.
Singular as such a statement
must appear to
was looked
between the
It
upon as
manded
principal
an American historian has phrased it as the key to the passage

the
New-England and
Middle
States the
;
colonies
it
of Revolutionary
days.
com-
the entrance to the
Upper Hudson
war;
its
it
was the centre of the scene of many

as
movements of
the
was invaluable
deposit
for
munitions,
and
troops were mustered within

action.
fortifications, to
be sent to every part of the theatre of

of the
Upon
its
defences was
concentrated army.
much
attention
to
and
effort
of the
Cono-ress and the leaders of the
Here, from Gee's Point
Constitution
Island
(no
longer
surrounded
by
the
stream),
was stretched
"
across
the
Hudson
the
the
huge
chain, to
which reference has been made already.
It
was
laid,"
says
best
descrip-
tion that
we have
at
hand,
"across
boom
at
of heavy logs, that
floated
near together.
resistance
These were sixteen

the tidal currents.
feet
long,
and pointed
each end, so as to offer

these
logs
little
to
The
chain was fastened to

stone."
by
staples,
and
at
each shore
by huge
served
at
blocks
the
of
wood and
Several
of the
of the great links of the chain are pre-
Point; and the
work
rust
stout
old
blacksmith
looks
as
though
it
mio-ht have borne the
wear and
of centuries;
a
but
by the vessels of an enemy

part
its
strength was never tested.
Here, too, on
1778.
conspicuous
of the
promontory, Kos-
ciuszko constructed Fort Clinton, in

and, indeed, the whole vicinity of the
fication
post
Of Fort Putnam we have already spoken; was provided with no mean works for fortifrom other reasons, why Wash-
and defence.
It
is
not hard to
it
see, then, apart
ington and his generals looked upon
as,
perhaps, their chief fortress.
The
fighting colthis.
as onies had no other military stronghold of such extent and permanent character
All these features of the place contributed to increase the
magnitude of the crime

treason of Bene-
which
dict
sible
will
always be associated with the history

It
is
of
West Pointthe
at the
Arnold.
impossible to forget
it
as
we look
scene
of the
plan imposstir-
even
for us,
who have come

of the
past.
to seek rather the beauty of the present than the
ring
recollections
Inevitably
we
picture
traitor
again
in
mind, as we
did
when
of his
school-boys, the
plans,
September morning when the

feeling
heard
sat
of the
at
miscarriage
table
and wonder what
came
to
him
as
He
his
the
of
Beverly
side
House (where Colonel Beverly Robinson had made
home, on the eastern
of
the river, nearly opposite the post), and the note was brought to
him from
British
his
subordiis
nate at
the
military station
below, that
said
"
Major Andre, of the
army,
prisoner in
my
custody."
The
scene with his wife, the hurried
flight, his
treacherous sur-
render of his
boatmen all
these things that were
wont
to stir our blood

linger at
when we
the
read
them
in the school-histories,
It
come
liack to us perforce
for
when we
Highland
fortress.
must have been, indeed, a sorry time
more men than Arnold; and one
can have a feeling of thorough sympathy for the disheartened commander-in-chief,
when
^MMM
he
turned
to
Lafayette
and
Knox
with his
saddened, " Whom can

we
But
trust
now
" ?
we
are
playing
false
to
our
guide's
duty in thus digressing to talk

of the by-gone days,
when
to
the
its
Hudson
had
added
beauties the interest of war.
Anthony's Nose, from lona Island.
Because we have lingered

so long in
the
beautiful
neighborhood
of
West Point and
its
really glorious
scenery,
the
patient
reader
must not fancy that the noblest views of the Highlands approach
i6
their
end when the picturesque

is
milithis
tary post
passed.
So
far
is
from
being
the
is,
fact,
that
we
fear
we
have
of
given to
all
what
we
confess, our
river's
favorite
the places
on the
shore,
more than
its
share of time
and
space.
For we have not yet spoken of Cozzens's,

great
resort
that familiar and
of
summer
that
is
pleasure-seekers,
perched
high
on the
brow of the
shore
for
cliff
the
most prominent on the western
several
miles
below the Military Academy.

of
the great building of
Nothing could be more

high
pictu-
resque than
the
all
situation
the hotel,
is
up
in
feet
air,
looking
down upon
the
noblest
it
of the
river -views.
It
several
hundred
above the
at
water in reality; but

of
looks twice
of
the
real
distance
for
from the low shore

precipice
its
is
the
base
the
cliff
to
the
foundations
practised
the
is
house,
the
here
so
bold
and
rugged
that
this
the
steep
most
eye
deceived
cut
as
at
by
appearance
of
great
height.
a
Along
descent
runs the
road,
the
cliffs.
post-landing above, in
well-
graded slope from the river to the summit of the
On
the
shore
Mr. Fenn has
found a point of view where one
may
deceive himself into the belief that he looks
upon
some legend-haunted
lines of this
ruin
near the Rhine or the Neckar, so picturesquely are the outstructure by the Cozzens's
commonplace old
Landing shaped and scarred by
time and weather.
But we must hasten
on, for
now,
a little distance farther
down
the
river,
we come

upon another of the most glorious mountain-groups of the Highlands
of
all,
17
the most southern

Chief
forming the lower gate, as the Storm-King and

this
its
fellows form the upper.
among
new group
at
is
the bold height of Anthony's Nose, descending sharply to the

in
all
water of the river

the
one of the most perfect bends

it
its
course.
So boldly does
its
promontor)' jut out into the stream that
seems actually to close

it,
channel
his
and
the
good Hendrick
finally
Hudson,
close,
as he
approached
thought for a time that

sea,
progress
was
brought to a
and that the arm of the

hills.
up which he imagined that

sides
he was
sailing,
had ended here among the
The
;
steep
of the
headland
is
are
dark with rock and forest and thick undergrowth
and the coloring of the whole

is
so of
stem and sombre, even

majesty that makes
it
in
far
the
sunlight, that
there
about
the
mountain an
it
air
by
the most prominent of the chain in which

it
stands.
Why
of the
this
famous height received the name
bears,
no one knows
but the vera-
cious Knickerbocker claims to have

title.
"
made
to
discovery of the facts that led to the choosing

tell,"
And now
am going
;
says he,
"
a fact which
doubt much
my
readers will hesitate to believe
but,
if
they do, they are welcome not to believe a word
^kffl'^^*^
-;^;ii--
The Hudson, north from

74
Peekskil).
this
in
whole
history, for nothina;
which
it
contains
is
more
true.
It
must
be
known,
boldly
witli
then, that the nose of Antliony the trumpeter
was of
a very lusty size, strutting
from
his
countenance, like a mountain of Golconda, being
sumptuously bedecked
rubies and other precious stones
the
it
true regalia of a king of
good
thus
fellows,
it
which
joU)'
that,
Bacchus grants to
brio-hl
all
who bouse
heartily at the flagon.
Now,
happened
and early
in the
morning, the good Anthony, having washed

it
his burly visage,
was
leaning over the ciuarter-railing of the galley, contemplating

Just at this
bluff
in
the glassy
wave below.
moment
the illustrious Sun, breaking in
all
his
splendor from behind a high

full
of the
Highlands, did dart one of his most potent beams
upon the refulgent
nose of the sounder of brass, the reflection of which shot straightway

into the water,
down
hissing hot
and
killed a
mighty sturgeon that was sporting beside the
vessel.
This
to
it
huge monster, being with

all
infinite labor hoisted
on board, furnished
a luxurious repast
the
crew, being
a
little
accounted of excellent
;
flavor,
excepting about the wound, where
smacked
of brimstone
in
and
this,
on
my
veracity,
was the
first
time
that
ever
sturgeon was eaten
these parts by Christian
people.
When
the
astonishing
fish,
miracle
became known
to Peter Stuyvesant,
and that he tasted of the unknown

;
he, as
may
well be supposed, marvelled exceedingly
and, as a
in the
monument
thereof, he
it
gave the name
of Anthony's
Nose
to a stout
promontory
neighborhood, and
has continued to
be called Anthony's Nose ever since that time."
There are other mountains here that guard, with Anthony's Nose,
entrance.
this
southern
Chief
among them
is
the
grand
Donderberg, jutting sharply into the river

it
from the shore opposite the Nose, and a mile and a half below
in the stream's course.
Around
this
Mountain of Thunder the summer storms
collect
and
its
summit
it,
is
best
known
to those
who have
seen
it
with the frown of a cloud sweeping over

its
and the
sound of the coming tempest already heard about
sides.
We
are
in
the very land of Irving
now
the
whole region
the
" little
is
peopled with
the
creatures of his fancy.
Who
does not
remember
bulbous-buttomed
Dutch
goblin, in trunk-hose and sugar-loaf hat, with a speaking-trumpet in his hand, which, they
say,
keeps the Donderberg.?

"
They
declare," Irving says further of the
river-captains
and
their legend,
that they have heard him, in stormy weather, in the midst of the turmoil,
giving orders, in Low-Dutch, for the piping up of a fresh gust of wind, or the rattling
off
of another thunder-clap
that sometimes he has been seen surrounded
by a crew of
in
little
imps, in broad breeches and short

mist,
doublets, tumbling
in the air, or
head-over-heels
the
rack
flies
and
and playing a thousand gambols

;
buzzing like a swarm of

hurry-scurry
about
Anthony's Nose
and
that,
at
such
times,
the
of the
storm
was
always greatest."
Of
beautiful
the Sugar-Loaf, Bear Mountain, and
the
other
to
picturesque
hills
that
form the
southern
Highlands,
office
we have not
as
space
speak
at
length;
nor have we
looked upon our guide's
imposing upon us the duty of pointing out to view

each several feature of the Highland scenery.
19
Had we done
down
if
so,
we should
be open to a
thousand charges of neglect.

perhaps
tion,
We
what
have rather floated

lirst
with the stream, talking with
some
garrulity of
met our eyes; but

or
penetrate
we were
little
to yield to temptainland,
and wander away upon the
shore,
ever so
we should
Misty Morning on the Hudson.
never end our journey.
For there would be then

and
all
all
the picturesque creeks that tumble
foaming to the
river,
their long, wild valleys, to follow
up
there
would be the
:
bright villages, with their legends and their scenes of our old histor)', to recall
and there
would be the hundred thousand points of view to

the
last.
visit
and to enjoy, each one more than
But we cannot do
this
and we must make our farewell to the
Highland
The Hudson,
at
Vonkers.
group, with Mr. Fenn's sketches of the great promontor)\ and go on into the
of the river below.
new
scenes
As Newburg
southern.
at the
northern entrance of the
Highlands, so
its
lies
Peekskill
the
near
the
\'ery picturesquely the
town
is
placed, with
houses lying on
sloping
20
lowei shoie and
its
terraced road on the
steep
hind.
hill -
side
be-
From
this
road
we
again
*aw
look out on the long reaches

of broad and
open
river;
and
the wilder and grander aspects

to
which we have grown
ac-
customed disappear.
quieter scene
The
Palisades.
Yet the
is
very beautiful
and,
looking
southward
from
the high terrace, a pleasant country

little
meets the view, where along the river-banks arc the

for
country-places that
make homes
crowded-out New-Yorkers.
22
PTCrURESQUE AMERICA.
aiatcHl
bv
its
tliis
natural
wall.
On
its
west
lies
the
quietest
farming
to
as
country,
the
with
people leading simple, uneventful, pastoral lives

eity
people
away
over.
whom
if
busy towns and the noises of the

isted
seem
as
far
they ex-
only to be read about and wondered
But
on the
eastern side, in the places along the banks of the river, in every
kind
of dwelling, irom
is
great
country-seat
to smallest suburban
cottage,
found a
class
utterly different.
is
These are they the
chief part of
whose days
passed "in town," -who have

the
come
rest
out, or been driven out, to
beauty of the country for

in their
"%:
and a
little
freshness
and invigoration
banks, from
homes,
to
at least.
All over the
Hudson's
Newburg
little
New
York,
to
these people cluster in villages
and
cities,
trying
hard
bring into the whole
region
the
bustle
of their town-life, but
gaining good, in spite of themselves, from their surroundings.
But there
i^îe^'li^^T^
is
more
to be gained
from
out-
the
summit of the Palisades than an
look at the various aspects of the humanity about

crest
their base.
High up upon
escarpment
the
of
the
great
far
one
may
stand
see
and look
away
into the east, or

that
fire.
the
most
the
glorious
sunsets
ever
changed
sky
to
gold
lie
and
To
we
in
the north
the Highlands
stretched
have
passed,
out
noblest
panorama
for his
view
and to the south the
river flows
on
its
in a
broader stream, until on
eastern side the city begins,

its
and the stream changes

pect,
as-
and
passes
between
send
the
crowded shores that

across
their
it
out
the noisy thunder of

life
;
busy
and
Palisades,
and rocky
of
still
hills,
and long reaches
stream, and green, pleas-
ant banks,
as the
make
a sudden end,
Hudson sweeps grandly

sea.
and quietly down to the

At the Foot of the Palisades.
PHILADELPHIA AND ITS SUBURBS.

so
25
wonderful
metamorphosis as that which has
at
!
this
day transfigured
the
entire
landscape into the likeness of the actual

be gauged by the limit of his design.
Philadelphia
The scope
"
of his forecast
may
FIc planned a
town
"
of thirty streets, crossing
each other at right angles, nine east and west, and one-and-twenty north and southward
trending
that
the
former serving only as highways from shore to shore of the two streams
their embrace,
held the "lofty lands" in
with no thought,
latter
it
would seem, of venextension, sub"
turing across these watery barriers, but the

ject,
capable
of indefinite
of
course,
to
the
contingent rights
and privileges of neighboring
settlements."
cities,
Hampered by
flicted
the memories and traditions of the

the
future
Old-World towns and
he
in-
upon
metropolis of
the
Keystone State the same misery that has

all
stayed or stunted the complete and comely development of nearly
the
older
towns
and
cities
on
this
continent
the
misery of narrow thoroughfares and scanty spaces, blind
alleys,
dark courts, and a general inadequacy of breathing-room
and
free
circulation, to
say nothing
ral
though
and
a great deal should be said
of the
lost
l)y
opportunities for architectu-
adornment, and the refinement of the popular mind
objects of beauty
and grandby-ways
eur placed constantly before them in their goings up and

of daily
laying
toil
traffic.
down
the high- and

this to
Mr. Penn perhaps thought to remedy

fair
some extent by
his
city
out with a
and, to
mathematical mind, satisfying rectangularity

city
and, viewed
from a thoroughly Gradgrindian stand-point, a

at
whose
streets are inter-
sected
by each other
invariable
in
right
angles,
and consequently traverse the length

lines,
is
and breadth of the land

and convenient of
cities.
undeviating straight
possibly the
most comfortable
an ar-
But, looking from a picturesque point
of view, such
utilit\-.
rangement
is
very unfortunate, and a wholesale sacrifice
of beauty to
Though
be-
the sect to which the eminent founder of Philadelphia belonged was not popularly
lieved to have
much sympathy
will
with the allurements of the

are,
beautiful, either
in
Nature
or
art,
yet
it
not be denied that there were, and
many
picturesque features in
the landscape of the spot chosen by
him
for the site of his city of fraternal love.
Here
was a large and pleasantly-undulating

try
plain, rising gently, north
and westward, to a counthe
of
heavily-timbered
hills,
and
rich
uplands
pregnant
swift,
with
promise
of future
harvests,
margined
for
many
more
a mile
beautiful
by the broad,
deep-flowing Delaware, and the
shallower, slower, but ently illimitable

is
and
jjurer,
Schuylkill
twin
life
channels for an apparvital
commerce, and an equally exhaustless supply of the
element
it
that
necessarv to the existence of this
commerce and of
its
the
that
makes
possible
of
plain, too,
with further accidents of beauty along

ravine, hints of
borders in the shape

all
of rocky dell
and shadowy
torrent,
mountain and gorge, and

in
the
fascinating
marvels
cascade,
in
and
rapid,
reproduced
miniature,
so
to
speak,
upon
the
" It
romantic
seemed,"
banks and
indeed, as
the
sylvan
stream
said, the
of the weird and winding Wissahickon. very place

far to
"
Penn himself
of
its
appointed
for
town
"
and surely the
phenomena
growth have gone
prove the wisdom of his selection.
26
The
liam
1
Philadelphia
of
Wilin
Penn was incorporated

and
for
a
701;
number
of
years
thereafter
the
in
tendency
a lateral
of
its
growth was
direction,
upon
the
or
near
the
shore
of
Delaware,
rather
north
than
and
southward
westward toward
kill.
the
Schuyl-
This disposition to cling

the
to
margin
of
the
waters
over which the adventurer has

sailed
from
the
is
Old
to
the
New Land
ticeable
in
natural,
and noin-
nearly
every
stance of the early settlements

in
this
country.
It
was spe-
cially so in
Philadelphia, where
both
life
the
business
city
and
social
of the
the
long clustered
bordering
the
or
in
streets
abutting
leaving
upon
Delaware,
most of the upper or

part
western
either in
of
the
city-plan
the condition
known
"
to real-estate dealers as
unimsmall
villas.
proved," or
occupied
as
farms
and
suburban
first
Even
ter
as late as the
quar-
of
the
present
centur\^
resi-
many
of the finest private

in
dences
the
city
were
on
the
Front
first
Street,
street
which
was
by
opened
Penn,
and ran
nearly due north and of the
south along the course

river.
Some
of
these
remain
to
Tower ami Steeple,
Independence
Hall.
this
day the habitations of
wealthy citizens, though jostled

more imposing
structures
29
erected
upon them.
constructed
There
are,
however, on
almost
all
her
highways noble and graceful

taste,
edifices
by public or private munificence and
massive temples of charity, of religion, of industry,
and of
art,
which go
far
to
rede-em the stiffness and the
monotony of
and
the general
private,
plan
of the
city.
Something about
in
more notable
buildings, public
may
not be wholly inappropriate even
a picturesque article, the less so as
some of them
are intimately connected with the his-
toxy and traditions (which are always picturesque) of the place.

religious light
"
So, having
let
left
the
"
dim,
that
marks the sacred precincts of Christ Church,

at
us go on to Chestof
its
nut
Street,
and pause
the
State-House, with
reverent
recognition
claims,
to notice
abo\e those of more recent and more ornate constructions.

edifice
is
it
The
l)ut
two
stories
in
height, and
less
built of simple
brick, but
its
associa-
tions have given

to
is
an interest scarcely
worid-wide and thrilling than that attaching
any structure, however magnificent
in size or
symmetry, throughout Christendom.

bell,
It
surmounted by a
steeple, in
little
which was hung the great and glorious
with
its
pro-
phetic inscription, verified
more than
a century after
its
first
echoes
woke
pcean
the
good
burghers of the royal province of Pennsylvania,
when
the
clangorous
was proBeneath
a
claimed of" Liberty throughout

its
the
land,
unto all the inhabitants

in
in
thereof."
roof was pronounced the Declaration of Independence, and
the
same chamber,
few years aftenvard, the system of government which culminated

the Great Republic was discussed and adopted.
the establishment of
Market
chiefly
Street
is
tlie
its
great
central
highwav of
traffic,
foreign
and domestic, and

its
is
remarkable for
handsome warehouses and mercantile
depots,
width, and
its
turmoil.
saic
The
traveller in search of the picturesque will not care to linger

will
amid
its
pro-
bustle.
Neither
he find
will
much
be
to arrest his eye
on Arch
Street, save a
street
graceful
spire here
and there; but he
struck
by the repose of the

air
It
as contrasted
respectability
with the rattle and hurry of adjacent highways, and with the
that disdnguishes
still
is,
of placid
the
staid
denizens of that quiet avenue.

"
was, and to
in
its
some extent
architecture
favorite
street for
Friends'
"
residences,
and partakes, both
and
its
human
circulation, of the peculiar plainness
and primness of the primitive Quakers.
The handsomer
of the
ful
is
private
residences are chiefly in the western and northwestern parts

is
city.
West
Philadelphia, across the Schuylkill,

part
full
of elegant villas and taste-
cottages.
The western
of Walnut, Chestnut, Arch, Spruce, and

hear called palatial mansions
for
;
Pine
Streets,
wholly occupied by what
we sometimes
and the spacious

lich
and noble boulevard of Broad Street runs

built
miles between the dwellings of the
of every
variety
of stone and
in
ever\-
conceivable
(or
inconceivable)
style
of
architecture, and, in
many
instances, further
adorned by lawns and gardens of most elab-
orate finish
and
fruitfulness.
The numerous
wholesome
spots of shade
and greenery known
as
"
squares
"
are
pleasant
and
features of this city.
They were
part of the original plan of
Penn, and hav-
30
had the advantasfc of time, arc
forest
full
infif
of nnhkthe
and venerable
soil
trees,
some of which
still
were denizens of the virgin

the centre
tliat
(iioonieti
on which
the
they
stand.
In
of
l-"ranklin
Square
the
laru:est
and one
of
most
beautiful
of
those
within the citv
there
is
a fine fountain, with a
number of
to
jets fallinp; into a large basin,
upon whose
clear surface
two or more swans were wont
ohde,
much
to
the
delight
Navy-Yard.
of
the
children
to
but
these
graceful
water-fowl
have
Park.
vanished,
having,
perhaps,
been
removed
the
broader
beast, will
waters
find
of Fairmount
The
thirsty wayfarer,
by-the-by,
tiiirst
whether man or
Philadelphia.
no lack of fountains whereat
to
quench
his
in
There
and
are scores of these grateful drinking-places
on the high- and by-ways

illustra-
of the
tion,
city
suburbs,
some of them,
artistic
as
may
be
seen
by the accompanying
in
not without a jiicturesque or
beauty and fitness
their design,
which does

not render the water
tains are
less refreshiiiix
'>r
3'
the pilgrim less appreeiative.

labors
These
of a
street
foun-
due to the
humane and enlightened
and
taste
few gentlemen,
who,
in
1869, formed themselves into a Fountain
Society for this beneficent object, and,
either through their personal

their
and pecuniary
efforts
and
assistance, or
by the influence of
offered
example upon
others, these well-springs of
wholesome refreshment have been
to the parched throats of hundreds of thousands of their fellow-creatures.
In several instances an intelligent advantage has been taken
and upon some of the pretty roads about the
skirts
of the
city
notably cf the
in
the
Park
acci-
natural
dents of scenery in the selection of the spot and the character of the fountain, and
result
is
the
picturesque, and in
harmony with the landscape and

taste
associations.
in
free
It
were to be
;
wished that an equally enlightened
had been displayed

?
every instance
gift
is
but
as
some of
these
"
shall
we
say works of art
have
been
the
of individual
citi-
zens (and, therefore, not to be viewed with the "critic's eye"), there
here and there an
unfortunate specimen of that peculiar taste supposed to belong to the great "Veneering"
and
"
Podsnap
families.
Under
the circumstances, however,

artistic
it
would be uncharitable
Fountain
to
seem severely
critical,
and these blots upon the
perspicacity of the
So-
ciety shall not, therefore, be
more
particularly alluded to herein.

careful
Art and science have received

the
quiet
attention in
Philadelphia.
in
For many years

Street,
and modest rooms of the Academy of Fine Arts,
Chestnut
were
the resort of art-loving citizens and curious strangers.
Here
in
several of the
state,
huge canvases
of Benjamin
West and Rembrandt
Peale were enshrined
and received the hom-
age of those
could boast.
who deemed them
superlative
works of
art,
the finest of which the country

Philadelphia's artists are held,
in
Here the annual exhibitions of the works of

beneath are casts of the
it
and
in
the basement
famous statues of antiquity, arranged

transferred
site
sepulchral rows.
All of these treasures,

of Fine
city.
is
believed, will in time be
to
the
new Academy
portion of the
Arts, which will
be
erected
on an appropriate
in
another
One
of the most remarkable buildings in
Philadelphia
Streets.
is
the
is
new Masonic Temple,

constructed
use.
just erected
on the corner of Broad and Filbert

site
all
It
of granite,
dressed at the quarry and brought to the of architecture
ready for immediate

pointed
As
piece
it
is
a curious imitation
of the round and
styles
of the middle
agesthe
outlines, the tower,
and
certain other features, suggesting the Gothic, while the

details, are
windows, the fagade, and the minuter

the
deeply-recessed
porch,
thoroughly Saxon
in
character. arches,
Thus,
with
its
dog-tooth
ornaments and
round
might be
in
copied from one of the old Saxon-built abbeys of ILngland; while the tower, adorned
a
more elaborate
Inside the
style,
only needs a spire to be Gothic in general

there
are
effect
if
not
in
de-
tail.
Temple
various
halls,
l)uilt
in
tiie
Corinthian,
Doric,
and
other styles, so as to be in consonance with various phases of masonic practices.

If the
Delaware
River
is
the
source of commercial prosperity to
Philadelphia, the
riC TL -RESQ L 1 A ME RICA.

Schuylkill
offers
to
its
citi-
zens
their
most
delightful
out-of-door
pleasures.
The
and
lien-
Delaware,
majestic,
efit.
is
broad,
swift,
of utilitarian
The
Schuylkill, narrow,
winding, and picturesque, gratilies

is
the sense of beauty.

at
It
Fairmount
that
the
charm of the Schuylkill begins.

is
Below
this
in
point there
the
not
much
stream
calculated to interest the visitor,
though the graceful iron
arches of the Chestnut-Street
Bridge
as
will
attract
attention,
in
being
work
skill
which
effect-
engineering
ually
has
availed
lines
itself
of
it
the
is
cur\ed
claimed
in
which
that
beauty
dwells.
Up
to this bridge the largest
vessels
may
approach,
their
tapering
masts
and graceful
a
picture'
yards
presenting
in
which,
bright,
sunny
the adthe
day, might have
won
miration
and
employed
pencil of Turner.
at
The
scene
a
this
point
is
usually
busy one.
light
Noisy steam-tugs,
scows,
canalot
sail-boats,
boats,
craft,
and
other
kinds
crowd the stream, and

life
impart that
peculiar
and vivacity
water-front
to
the
of
nourishing
commercial
city.
At
is
night,
when
the
bridge
lighted by rows ot
PHILADELPHIA AND ITS

laid out, "and the
S(r/U'Rns.
had received the
careful
39
attention
into
oiDunds showid
that
for years they
of skilled
landscape-gardeners.
In
Axct,
the
i'ark
authorities had only to
combine
citizens
one
number of pleasure-grounds
already
constructed,
and
to
invite
the
of
Philadelphia to the immediate enjoyment of one of the loveliest out-door resorts in the
country.
The
Schuylkill
View
from
Landsdovvnc.
Of
course, the
points of view, the quiet
retreats,
and the charming nooks
in
Fair-
mount Park
are almost innumerable.

.At
The windings
for
of the river offer a constant variety

is
of sylvan scenery.
Rockland
Landing,
instance, there
it
an
e.\lensi\e
view
in
both directions until the

tator towers a
l)end of the stream cuts

cliff,
off,
while direellv l)ehind the specstrata of
rocky, perpendicular
in
on the face of which the various
rock
or
are
exposed to view
manner which would
delight equally a scientific o-eoloo-ist
40
the
mciv casual lover of
.
(lie
picturcsciiu'.
Above
to
Helmoiil
the stream assumes a wilder

;
character.
trees
The shores
slope
gradually
down
the
if,
water's ed^je
like
and the overhanging
curve gently forward over the

their
road-way, as
the
fair
the
fond Narcissus, they were
enamoured of
heights of
own
reflection
in
bosom
of the limjMd stream.
iMoni the
Landsdownc
there
is
a wider scope of vision.
Seated on the rustic benches,
overshadowed by
.stately trees
of almost a primeval growth, the lounger
may
enjoy one
af-
of the most delightful

fords.
bits
of river-scenery of the
milder order which
our country
Perhaps
among
is
the noblest views which are afforded by the rich variety of the
Fairmount country
not
visible.
one to be gained from the West Park.

wandering over an expanse of billowy
fair
In this view the river
is
The
roofs
eye,
foliage, descries in the dis-
tance
the
and spires of the
city,
and the smoke of industry

this scene arises a graceful
arising
from a
archi-
hundred
tall
chimneys.
Near the centre of
and varied
tectural grouping,
formed by the tower of the Masonic Temple, the sharp spire of the
adjacent church, and the swelling

ings are not really near together;
dome
but,
of the
Roman
effect
Catholic Cathedral.
These
build-
by the
of parallax, they seem to form one

city.
group, and in their proud majesty dominate the entire
The Delaware and

recent
lovely
pastoral,
the
Schuylkill
"
The wedded
Pilgrim."
rivers,"
Whittier
calls
them
in his
visitor,
"The Pennsylvania
Perhaps the
sympathetic
Schuylkill,
above Belmont.
41
Old
V.w\'.
on the Wissahicktm
wandering
in
Fairmount Park
at
that sweet hour

tlic
when day
city
is
mcltina; into night,
may
keenly realize the Quaker poet's description of
and
its
vicinage in the c(jlonial
days, nearly a century before the colonists were troubled with
dreams of independence:
'
One long bar
Of purple
Shone
like
cloud, on which the evening star
a jewel on a scimitar,
"Held
the sky's golden gate-way.
Through
the deep
Hush
The
" All
of the woods a
murmur seemed
to creep,
Schuylkill whispering in a voice of sleep.
else
was
still.
The oxen from
their
ploughs
Rested at
last,
and from
files
thuir long day's
browse
Came
.
the
dun
of Krisheim's
home-bound cows.
"And
The
the
young
city,
round whose virgin zone
rivers like
two mighty arms were thrown,

fires
Marked by the smoke of evening

' Lay
in the distance,
its
alone
lovely even then,

its
With
fair
women and
stately
men
Gracing the forest-court of William Penn
" Urban yet sylvan;
in its
rough-hewn frames
Of oak and pine
the dryads held their claims,
And
lent its streets their pleasant
woodland names."
And
names,"
as
to
this
day many of the
streets
of
I'liiladelphia
retain
"
their
pleasant
rural
desio--
Pine,
Chestnut, Vine, and
others.
The
great
majority, however, are
nated by numerals
a prosaic, mechanical system,
which seems to be generally adopted
in
42
J'JC'J'UKESOUJS AMI: RICA.

cities,
our larger American
though
it
was
luvcr
fouinl
necessary
for
Paris,
London, or
Vienna
In
tlie
West Park
will
be erected,
in
tiie
1S76, the
superb
buildings
intended
for
the
International Exhibition connected with
Centennial Celebration.
The
central struct-
ure will be permanent, and will lemain most probably, for ages to come, an
ornament to
i_ _-^^?^;^K-!, l^s^S -.
Drive alonir the Wissaliickon.
the Park, a source of attraction to strangers, and
an
object
will
of pride
to
to
citizens.
The
crowds of
occasion
visitors
from
all
parts
of the world,
of our
who
flock
Philadelphia
on the
of the
official
celebration
hundredth
national
birthtlay, will
far
ever recall
with pleasure the sylvan
beauties
of Fairmount
Park, and will spread
and wide the

will
fame
of t^^îs^most
in
its
delightful
pleasure-resort.
In
twenty
years,
Fairmount
of
be
as
famous
way
as the
Bois de Boulogne of Paris,
Hyde Park
London, the
Pin-

cian Hill of
43
It
Rome,
the Caseine of
Florence, or the Prater of
Vienna.
possesses
greater variety of natural beauty than any of them.
No
hickon.
notice of Philadelphia
would he complete without some description of the Wissalittle
This very picturesque
river
all
winds through a narrow

the wildness of a
valley,
far
between steep
and richly-wooded banks, and
])ossesses
stream
from the haunts
Wissahickon, near
Papcr-Mill Bridge.
of men, though
it
is
hut a few miles from
one of the
its
it
largest
cities
on
the
continent.
Its beauties bea:in
from the
moment
it
pours
crystal
is
current
into
the waters
l)ut
it
of the
be-
Schuvlkill.
As
it
ajiproaches the latter river,

it
quiet
and peaceful;
soon
comes almost
a mountain-tonent, as
hill'^-
is
confined between narrow banks
and overshad-
owed bv
towcrins:
Tt'^
water-power has been made available for manufacturing pur-
44
poses;
but, as
it
has
lately
been
included
within
the
lie
limits
of
Fairmount
Park,
it
is
understood that
tiie
unronianlie niill-buiUlings will
soon removed, and nothing allowed
to remain, which can in an\at
way
interfere with
its
wild
and jMcturesque beauty.

;
Even
at
present, these
objectionable structures are not wholly unsightly

are
and
the
factories
the
mouth of
the Wissahickon
so
shaded
by foliage
that, in
conjunction with the

for the artist's
arches of the bridges near by, they offer tempting bits of

pencil.
form and color

at
The
old log-cabin bridge, which
crosses
the
stream
one point, has attracted
the attention
of both
amateur and professional sketchers

its
nearly as
much
as
the
falls
which give variety to one of
widest stretches.
is
A
of the
wide carriage-road runs along the bank of the Wissahickon, and

Philadelphians, the
wild,
river
a favorite drive
dancing along on one
side,
and
high, rocky projections,
crowned with
overhanging trees and shrubbery, bordering the other.

river-scenery.
Nothing can
surpass the varietv of this
Even
the covered bridge, so often an unsightly
object in the rural scenery of America,
when compared with
the open, arched bridges of
Europe, seems to
"
be
in
keeping
here.
We
can
hardly say as
if
it
much
for
the
so-called
Pipe Bridge," which, to the unprofessional eye, looks as
were thrown upside-down
across the valley.
Various restaurants and houses of resort
for pleasure-seekers are to be
found on the
Wissahickon
of a
rather
road.
Other spots are noted

nature.
as the localities of various traditions, generally

is
apocr^'phal
Near the "log-cabin"

by one John
Kelpius,
a
is
lane which leads to a well,
dug,
some two
centuries
ago,
who
generally
known
as
"
the
in
hermit of the Wissahickon.
This man, a graduate of the

in
University of
Helmstadt,
Germany, came to Philadelphia
1694, with a party of
two hundred
"
followers,
who had
adopted his peculiar religious views.
WTiittier says that the
M agister
Johann Kelpius"
was a believer
in the
near approach of the millennium, and was thoroughly imbued with

the
the m3'stic views of
German
in
philosophers.
name
of
"The
Woman
the
Wilderness."
He called He died in
his
settlement
by the odd
thirty-four
1704,
when only
years of age, while in the act of preaching to his disciples in his garden.
He
was the
possessor of a
"
stone of wisdom," which he threw into the river shortly before his death,
and which has never been found.

the
He
seems to have been

his lifetime
a believer in the theories
of
alchemists
of the
middle
ages,
and during
was viewed with
distrust
by
the Pennsylvania Quakers.
Whittier speaks of him as "the painful Kelpius,"
who
"
in
his hermit
den
By Wissahickon, maddest
Dreamed
o'er the Chihast
of good men,
dreams of Petersen."
There, where
"
the small river slid snake-like in the shade," he
is
described
as
crooning
as
wizard-like over forbidden books, and, by the aid of his magical stone, seeing visions
strange and terrible as those beheld by the inspired eye of the Seer of Patmos.
~
I
.'T^-^.^S^TT'^^rrir^
C U
Hi
of the
v;
/;
SCENES ON THE VVISSAHICKON.
46
Laurel
the
subjeet
Hill, the
famous
ccmt't(-r\is
of
Phihulclphia, whicli
like
llu-
lor
tiianv years
has
within
been
the
of artistic
illustration,
now,
\\'issaliiekon,
included
to
it
limits of
Fairmount Park, ihouyh
a suitable
wall of partition
rest
secures
ilie
privacy
of
becoming a metropolis of the dead.

Philadelphia, including persons
flere
many
of the
in
most
noted
citizens
who have won
an abiding fame
is
the worlds of literature
and
of
art.
On
the opposite side of the Schuvlkill

Hill.
another cemetery,
known by
the
rather
cumbrous name of West Laurel
The
other cemeteries of the Pennsylvanian

a
metropolis are
known
as
Monument Cemetery
and
Lafayette),
(from
monument
erected
to
the
joint
memories of Washington
Mount
Peace,
Mount Vernon, Glenwood,

latter
are,
Mount Moriah, Woodland, and

place of interment of the
the
Cathedral
Cemetery, the
being the
favorite
Roman
Catholic community.
There
besides these, various
smaller cemeteries, belonging to different organized societies.
On
the
Wibsaliickou at
Siinaet.
THE VALLEY OF THE CONNECTICUT.

WITH IIJ.USTRATIOXS DV
J.
n()r(;r,\S
wouuwakd.
'
"HE
that
charms
all
of. the
beautiful valley of
in
the Connecticut
have so often been described
i
takes
persons of intelligence
of
this
country must have some knowledge of them.

rivers
Amonoits
the
hills
New
Hampshire and \'ermont the queen of our New-England

for four
rise.
Flowing
in a nearly southerly direction
hundred
miles,
it
forms the
62
dividint;:
it
lin^
between the two States
in
which
had
its
birth.
Crossing- the States of

it
Mas-
sachusetts and Connecticut,
empties into the

this
Long-Island
valley
Saybrook.
Sound.
Through
to
its
charming
from
the
head,
we now
of
propose
river
pass,
mouth
the
to
northern
near Canada, our

sketches of
artist
meanwhile giving us
us acquainted with the
some of
the
leading
points
of interest, and
making
rare beauty of its exceedingly varied
and picturesque scenery.
Leaving the cars

necticut Iîver,
if
at
the junction of the Shore Line Railway with that of the
Con-
we
are
good pedestrians we
shall
not
fail
to
walk the
entire length of
the broad street on which have been built most of the houses of the ancient
town of Sayat
brook.
Although the distance

of the Connecticut
to
Saybrook Point
far
the
terminus of the railroad

shall
the
mouth
some
is
not
from two miles, we
not find our walk a weari-
one.
The venerable elms beneath which we

will
pass will remind us of the olden times,

the
and there
be enough of the antique meeting our eye to carry us back to
times
of
when
Lord Say and Seal and Lord

I.,
Brook,
in
the
unsettled
period
of the
tract
reign
Charles
procured from
Robert, Earl
of Warwick, a patent
of a
large
of land.
THE VALLEY OF THE CONNECTICUT

Leaving
place so
65
Saybrook
around which
venerable
cluster
associa-
many
tions
we
begin
our ascent
of the
river.
We
soon pass
through scenes which remind

us,
on
a diminished scale, of
the Highlands of the
Hud-
son River.
miles
brings
sail
of thirty
us
to
one of
the most beautiful places on

the
river
M iddletown
of
partial
artist
view
which
our
has given
us,
the sketch
having: been taken

city.
above the
As
the writer was walk-
ing up from the river to the
McDonough House,
for his
he had
companion Professor
of
the
Wesleyan
remarking
his pracin
University.
to
On
it
him
that
was
tice while
travelling
Eu-
rope
spot
to
seek some elevated
from
which to get
bird's-eye
view of the places

allusion
he
visited,
having
been especially made to the
view from
fessor
of
Athens
obtained
pro-
Lycabettus, the
replied
that
nowhere
any
than
sur-
abroad
thing
had
he
seen
more
beautiful
M iddletown
roundings
spot in
of
the
and
its
from some
high
the western
city.
section
As we
of
stood
Hall,
on the top
Judd
one of the buildings of the
66
let
Wesleyan University, and

heartily respond in the
the
eye
range
over the widely-extended
scene,
we
could
affirmative to this remark.

streets
The
city
itself
presents a most attracshade-trees
tive appearance, with
its
of generous width, adorned with
and many
elegant mansions and public
buildings.
The Methodists have

in the country,
here one of their earliest

in
and most flourishing seats of learning

ings were
originally
built
for
founded
1831.
Its oldest
build-
the
American
This
Literary, Scientific,
institution
and Military Academy,

success
under the
care
of Captain
Partridge.
it
not
meeting with the
which
care
its
projectors had anticipated,
was purchased by the Methodists, and, under the

rank
of that
of
its
denomination,
buildings,
is
taking high
the
among
the
best
colleges
of the
land.
Some
especially
Memorial Hall and Judd
Hall,
are
among
the
finest of their
kind
in the country.
Opposite
Middletown
are
the
in at
famous freestone
quarries,
from which
some of
the
most
stately
and costly buildings

tradition, the
river.
New York
the
and other
cities
have been erected.
Ac-
cording to
rocks
northern
for
and principal
opening originally hung

long
after
shelving over the
They were used
building-material not
in that
the
settle-
ment of Middletown.
A
of
meeting was held
town
in
1665, at which
resolution
was passed that no one should dig or

river but an
raise stones at the rocks
on the
east
side
of the
inhabitant
Middletown, and that twelve pence should be paid to the
town
for
every ton of stones taken.
Now
the Connecticut freestone
is
as
famous as the
ancient Pentelic marble from the quarries near Athens.
The
level tracts north of
Middletown
all
will not be
overlooked by the
tourist.
fertile
These
;
meadow-lands, which are
found
along the
Connecticut, are
States have
exceedingly
and
soil
some of the
of exceeding
finest
farms in the
It w'as
New-England
these
been formed out
of this
richness.
meadow-lands that attracted the attention of the

of the
early settlers of the State,
and brought to Connecticut some of the best blood

colonies.
Plymouth and Massachusetts
Above Middletown,
in
few miles,
is
Wethersfield,
claimed by some to be the oldest settlement
the
Commonwealth.
Among
It
those early
comers to the lowlands of Connecticut there was one woman, who

of
spirit,
had a good share

is
and;
we
judge, no small
amount of humor,
the
place where
shore.
in
her composition.
to
land,
related
that,
when
the settlers arrived at
they wêre
some controversy
arose
who
should
first
set
foot
on the
While the men were contendin"- with
each other for this privilege, good Mrs. Barber, taking advantage of the contention, dexterously sprang forward, and, reaching the shore, had the
soil.
its
honor of
first
treading on
the
Wethersfield
is
a venerable, staid old place, long celebrated for a specialty to which
inhabitants have directed their attention

if
the
cultivation of the onion.

authorities
all
It
is
also the
seat of the State-prison, which,
we mistake
not, the
of Connecticut, with
the)-
their traditional skill in turning an honest
penny from
enterprises in which
em-
bark, have
made
a source of
no
little
income to the
State.
We
are
now approaching one
of the most charming cities in our
country the
city

Hooker, -Mr. Stone, and about one hundred men, women, and
parture from Cambridge, anil travelled
trackless wilderness to
ehildren, took
their
69
de-
more than
a hundred miles through a hideous and
They had no guide but their eompass, and made their way over mountains, through swamps, thickets, and rivers, which were not passable but
Hartford.
with great
difficulty.
They had no cover
but
the
heavens, nor any lodgings but
those
Main-Street Bridge, Hartford
that simple nature afforded them.

cattle,
They drove with them

of their
hundred and sixty head of

Mrs.
and by the way subsisted on the milk

a
litter.
cows.
Hooker was borne

some
through the wilderness upon

utensils.
Tiie
people
carried
their
packs, arms, and
They were
nearly a fortnight on their journey.
This adventure was the more
remarkable, as
in
many
of
tiiis
company were persons

entire
of figure,
to
who had
fatigue
ii\'ed
in
England
It
honor, affluence, and delicacy, and were
strangers
and
dano-er."
JO
does not
of our
fall
within our dcsipi to follow the fortunes

to
of these they
adventurers.
It
is
out
their
power
comprehend the
difficulties
in
which
encountered.
lived of
Among
the
severest trials
savao-es
was the constant dread

thev
which
for years they
the attacks of the

rich
hx
whom
were surrounded, who, with

let
ill-concealed
chagrin, saw
possessions over which, without
or hinderance they had been
wont
soil.
to roam, slipping
out of their hands, and the white
men becoming
the lords of the
The
city of
Hartford, in our judgment, contrasts favorably with the

if
many
feet in
its
places in
our countiy which,

look
It
is
looked down upon by an observer a few hundred
the
air,
like
checker-board.
The very
irregularity
of
its
laying-out
adds to
charms.
divided at the south part by Mill or Little River, two bridges across which are seen
in the
accompanying sketches.
We
present also a
city.
sketch of Terrace
Hill, in
the
City
Park, one of the most beautiful spots in the
Just back of the fine old trees which
occupy the centre of the picture are the buildings of Trinity College, an Episcopal inOn the grounds stitution, which has done good service in the cause of sound learning.
is
a noble statue of Bishop Brownell, in which he
is
represented in
is
full
sacerdotal robes,
looking benignantly over the scene on which his eye

of Trinity College are soon to be
supposed to
rest.
The
buildings
removed to make way

fair
for the erection of the Capitol
of the State of Connecticut, which bids

structures of
its
is
to be one
of the
most costly and elegant
kind
in
the country.
Hartford
in the
celebrated as being the seat of
some of the
best
charitable
institutions
United
States.
for the in
Prominent among these are the Asylum

Insane.
1815.
It
for the
Deaf and Dumb,
and the Retreat

ciation of
The
first
of these institutions was founded by an assoorigin to a distinguished clergyman, the
gentlemen
owes
its
Rev.
Dr. Cogswell, the father of a beautiful chiUl
who
lost
her hearing at the age of two years,
and not long
after
her speech.
Wishing
to educate this daughter,

it
and
in his
deep sym-
pathy including other young persons alike unfortunate,

T.
was arranged
institutions
for
that the late Rev.

for the
H. Gallaudet, LL.
in the
D.,
should
all
visit
Europe, and
in
the
deaf and
dumb
old country gain

institution
in
the information
he
might need
successfully estab-
lishing a similar
the
United
States.
On
his
return
he was
accompanied
Sicard,
by Mr. Laurent Clerc, himself a deaf-mute, who, under the celebrated

been a successful teacher
Messrs.
for
Abb6
had
of
several
years
in
Paris.
Under
the joint
supervision
Gallaudet
of
its
and
Le
Clerc,
the
institution
all
soon
parts
its
won
its
way
to
popular favor.
The number
pupils
increased
rapidly,
of the country being represented
among
public
them.
So
successfully did
the
cause
of
unfortunate
a
inmates appeal to the

land
in
benevolence
that
Congress granted to
sale of
the asylum
in a
township of
Ala-
bama, the proceeds of the

Half a mile,
sightly spot,
is
which were invested
permanent fund.
city,
in
a southwesterly direction
from the centre of the

Its
all
on
most
in
the
Retreat
for
the
Insane.
founders showed
others, should
their
good
taste
selecting this place for
an
institution which, of
be
so
situated
as
to
THE VALLEY OE THE CONNECTICUT.

secure for
its
71
inmates every thing that can charm and soothe a disordered

In
mind.
the
From
the top of the building the eye ranges over a scene of rare beauty.
vicinity
is
immediate
its
the city of Hartford, with
its
pubUc
buildings,
thrift
its
elegant
mansions, and
numerous manufactories, representing the industry and

of the
of a
south,
busy town.
is
The view
Connecticut
Valley
in
both
directions, north
and
very extensive, and
embraces some of the choicest scenery on

villages, in
the
rixcr.
Looking
west,
we
sec
numerous
which are found
forest-trees
and orchards, beneath whose grateful shade nestle
cottages
and farm-houses, the very sight

in
tiic
cjf
whicli
awakens
mind
us
most
fancy,
gentle
for
and soothing
emotions, making
the
moment,
that
^^^^^^mf^mfm
Windsor Locks, Connecticut River.
into
such
paradise sin and
sorrow have
of the
not found their way.
The grounds
laid
Retreat
taste.
have
been
out
in
excellent
tlie
Some twenty
while
the
old
acres
trees,
furnish
most
ample
facilities
for
delightful walks
and
rides;
standing either singly or
in
clusters, invite
to quiet repose
rest
those
whose diseased
scenes.
intellects
and
wayward imaginations mav fmd

fancies,
amid
such
peaceful
How
made
man\-
morbid
how many
strange
iiallucinations
have
been
juit
to
flight
amid
tiie
these
scenes;
how changed
have
been
views
of
life
and
of
duty, which have

its
world both dreary and desolate, and lobbed
many
a soul
peace
Let any one with nerves shattered by excessive brain-work, and weary with
72
PICTCRHSQUE AMERICA.
dail)-
the
ami constant
its
toils
of
life,
walk through and

at
the the
a
neat,
ain
halls
of the
airs
Retreat,
or
wander over
the
beautiful
hills,
ijrounds,
will
breathe
invigorating
which
come
from
neighboring
and he
once
feel
kindly influence pervading his
whole being, and

here
filling
him with
efforts
at
profound gratitude that Christian

alleviate
benevolence has
"
put
forth
her best
to
the
is
sorrows
of
humanity.
all
The
general
system of moral treatment
this institution
to allow the patients

;
the liberty and
indulgences consistent with their
own
safety
and that of others
to cherish in
them
the
sentiment of self-respect
to
to excite an ambition for the good-will
and respect of others

their atten-
draw out the
latent sparks of natural
and
social affection
and to occupy
tion with such
employments and amusements

as
as shall exercise their
judgment, and with-
draw
their
minds
much
as
possible
from
the
every former
scene and every former com-
panion, and give an entire change to
current
of their recollections
and
ideas.
By
pursuing this course, together with a judicious system of medication,

miserable beings, cut off from
fraternal
tion,
all
many
of these once
filial,
the
'
linked sweetness
'
of conjugal, parental,
and
enjoyment, are
now
restored to the blessings of health, to the felicities of affecrelative duties of
and to the capacity of performing the
domestic and social

"
life."
Any
story
allusion to
Hartford without reference
to
the of
famous
Charter
out.
Oak
"
would
be like the play of

is
"Hamlet" with
one to the
the
character
Hamlet
left
Although the
sight
familiar
people
these
of
Connecticut,
for
we do not
lose
of
in
the
circumstance
that
we
in
are
writing
lands,
sketches
hundreds and thousands
our
own
a
"
country,
and
other
who have
not
so
much
as
heard
that
there
was
Charter
Oak."
This
famous
tree,
now no
age
longer standing, occupied
an eminence
rising
above the south meadows, not
far
from the ancient mansion of the Wyllys family.

its
is
Like the great elm on Boston Common,

ford finding
it
unknown, the
first
settlers
its
of Hart-
standing in the maturity of

it
its
growth.
Some
feet in
idea of
great size
may
be formed when we are told that
was nearly seven

roots,
is
diameter.
if
The
cavity in
which the charter was hid was near the

a child.
and large enough,

soon
first
necessary, to conceal
Sir
The
story of the
"Charter
Oak"
told.
In
December, 1686,
over
Ed-
mund
Andros,-
who had been
appointed the
governor-general
authorities
"
New
as
England,
to resign
in
reached Boston, from which place he wrote to the

their charter.
of Connecticut
The demand was not complied
with.
The Assembly met

last
usual
October, and the government continued according to charter until the
of the month.
troops,
About
this
time Sir
Edmund, with
his suite
and
more than
sixty regular
charter,
came
to Hartford,
where the Assembly were

it
sitting,
and demanded the
and declared
reluctant
the government under
to be
dissolved.
it
The Assembly were extremely

forth.
and
slow with respect to any resolve to bring

strongly represented the great
The
tradition
is
that
Governor Treat
in
it,
expense and hardships of the
colonists
planting the
country
the
the blood and treasure which they had
expended
in
defending
both against
for
savages
and foreigners
to
what hardships he himself had been exposed
that

inhabitants.
75
The
da\-s of
barbarous warfare have long since

all
passed
away
but
the
as
citi-
zens are not allowed to sever themselves from
warlike associations, inasmuch

in
the
In-
United States has here erected one of the most extensive armories
deed,
if
the
country.
we
are not mistaken,
it
is
the largest arsenal of construction in the country, and
has always employed a
large
force
of
men
in
the
manufacture
and
repair
of tens
of
"i^YOJ^
thousands of muskets, keeping

stored
of
hundreds
of
of thousands
warfare,
for
if
weapons
arise
any
use.
emergency
These
ar-
should
calling
their
senal-buildings
have
once
been
in
assaulted.
In
Jlount
Holvoke.
1786, during the insurrection
Massachusetts,
effort
known
as the
"
Shavs Rebellion," a vigorous
was put
forth
to
get
possession
ot
the United States Arsenal.

it
At
the head of eleven hundred men, Shays
marched toward
force
intendino- to carrv
it
1)V
assault.
The
officer
in
command
of the
defensive
General Shepard
but, his
warned
the assailants of the danger to which they exposed themselves,

fired
warnings not
being heeded, he
one,
upon the attacking

all
party, killing
three
of
their
number and wounding
when
the assailants fled in
haste from the scene of
76
Springfield
city, its
picrrR/iSouE
is
action.
emi)iiatically
government
ing
largely
prosperity
dependderived
on
the
patronage
of
from
the
special
lal)t)r
it
department
in
mechanical
which
for so
many
In
years
lias
been
it
engaged.
many
respects
is
by
far
the
most thriving
necticut
city
on
the
Con-
River.
Leaving Springfield, we pass
rapidly
level
river,
over the
lands
on
the
catching
glimpses
at
every turn
natural
of scenes of
singular
beauty,
and
observing the improvements every-
where made by man, pressing into

service the
immense water-power which

useful
as
he
the
The Connecticut
Valley from
finds
so
the
set
propeller
in
of
vast
machinery
here
motion.
will
Mount Holyoke.
Chicopee, and
fail
especially
Holyoke,
not
to
attract
in
the
attention
of
the tourist,
to
if
with
iiis
k)ve
of
Nature, he combines
an interest
works which give scope
liuman industry, and minister to the
comfort
THE VALLEY OE THE CONNECTICUT.

and add fo the luxuries of charming
as
life.
77
The
scenery along the

nearer
to
river,
if
possible,
grows more
we
advance.
The
have
hills are
the
river,
and begin to assume the

respects
name
of mountains.
We
reached Northampton,
in
all
one of the most
The Oxbow
View
from .Mount
Uolyoke.
beautiful villages in this or in an\
other
side
land,
situated
on
the
west
rising nsmg
of 3f the Connecticut, on
a
-^^^''TWiif^^m^y^^/',
river,
fliirest
grounc d, about
mile
from
of
the
the area
between which
"#r'^vT7'^'ry>^>^'-
and the town

in
lie
some
meadow-lands
three
the
world, covering
an
is
of
between
thousand and
four
thousand
acres.
Like Hartford, the town
somewhat
irregularly laid out, deriving from this circumstance
what to many eyes
is
a great
charm-the charm
of diversity.
It
abounds
in
shade-trees.
78
PIC J URliSO UE
AMERICA
Mcmnt
lorn
from
Oxbow.
their great age. the venerable appearance of which gives evidence of

size
Few
places
of
its
can
boast of a larger
number
of elegant
mansions and
\illas.
Many
charmmg
privileges
persons of
scenery of
intellectual culture
and
taste
have made their homes here, amid the

the
the
place,
that
they
may
enjoy
many
social
and
intellectual
which the
village affords.
We
tic
cliff
will
cross
the
river
and take our stand by the side of the doubtless enthusiashas described as standing near the
easily picture
gentleman
whom
our
artist
edge
ot
precipitous
on
Mount Holyoke.
The
The imagination can
the
exceeding beauty of
it
the scene.
wiiich, sketch shows to us the river winding through the meadow-lands,

tell
needs no words to
the
us, are
of surpassing
fertility.
Changing our
picture.
position,
we
are
at
Mountain House,
feet
so
distinctly
seen
in
the
far
next
Here we
are,
nearly
thousand
above the plain below, spreading

let
away both north and
south.
From
this elevated point
us look about
us.
We
quote from one

little
who
writes enthusiastically
of this lovely scenery:
"On
the west, and a
elevated above
the
general
level,
its
the
eye turns with delight to the populous village of Northampton, exhibiting in

edifices
public
and private dwellings an unusual degree of neatness and elegance. and to the right, the (juiet and substantial villages of Hadley and Hatfield;
little
still
more
farther

east,
79
and
more
distant,
Amherst, with
its
college,
observatory,
cabinet,
and
academy,
on
commanding eminence, form

before
pleasant resting-places for the eye.

the
Facing the souththe

ridge
called
west, the observer has
him, on
opposite
feet
side
of the
river,
Mount Tom,
rising
one or two
hundred
higher
than
llolyoke, and dividing the

cjf
valley of the Connecticut longitudinally.
The western branch

mountains, which,
miles,
as
this valley is
bounded
rises
on the west by the

ridge
forests,
Hoosic range
for
(jf
seen
from
Holyoke,
fields
above
ridge
more
than
twenty
checkered with cultivated
and
and not unfrequently enlivened by
villages
and
church-spires.
still
In
tlic
northwest,
(jf
Graylock may be seen peering al)uve ihc Hoosic; and,
farther north, several

in
the
Green Mountains,
grandeur.
visible.
in
Vermont, shoot up beyond the region of the clouds
imposing
is
little
to the south of west, the beautiful outline of
Mount
Everett
often
Nearer
at hand,
and
in
the valley of the Connecticut, the

outlines, while, far
in
insulated
Sugar-Loaf
in
and Mount Toby present
their fantastic
the
northeast, ascends
dim and misty grandeur the cloud-capped Monadnoc."
The
artist
has given us another view of the
valle\is
from
Mount
llolyoke, showing a
bend of the
river which,
from
its
peculiar shape,
known
as the
Oxbow.
in
We
if
have the
same charming scene of meadow and winding
river
which we had
the
the other picture.
From Oxbow,
permitted
to
also,
we have
of
view
of
Mount Tom,
twin-brother,
as
we may
be
call
it,
Mount Holyoke
not
as
much
visited
the
latter,
but well
worth climbing, and not disappointing the highly-raised anticipations of the
tourist.
The
Mount Holyoke from
I'om's
Station.
So
village
of S.)u.h
llacllcv lies
on the
east side of
Mount Tom.
This place has almost

l.\.malc
national reputation as being the seat of the famous
Mount Ilolyoke
Seminary
Titan'.s
Pier,
Mount Holyoke.
There are not
few spots
of the
in
its
neighborhood
from which
spectator will
get
most
intro-
picturesque views
surrounding country.
The
other views which xve
have
THE VALL FA' OF
T//E
CONNECTLCUT.
8i
Nortliampton
Meadows.
duced
will
prove that an
skill,
artist
will
find in
all
this region
abundant opportunities
for
the
exercise of his
direct,
and that the man of

findina:
taste
may wander wherever

manv
stand
rise
his inclinations
may
and be sure of
enough
to gratifv his
most ardent love of Nature.

respects, the
South
village
Hadley bears
off the
palm
of being, in
most
beautiful
river,
on the Connecticut.
Let the
tourist
take
his
on
the
bank of the
and look toward the northwest.
Holyoke and
Tom
with boldness from the valley,
standing on either side of the river like watch-towers, from whose lofty summits the observer
may
look out upon some of the most charming scenery in
the world.
Through
the opening
river,
made between
will
these twin-mountains one can see
two or three miles up the

peaceful
the
fine
in
which
be
noticed
one or two
over
islands,
looking
are
enough
old
to
make
whose
another paradise on
earth.
Scattered
the
meadows
trees
82
are so
invitintj,
summer shadows
neut
buildings
its
through whose foliage

Directly
may
be
seen
the
more promi-
of Northampton.
above
the
a
town the Conneetieut, changing

bend to the
In
soutli
somewiiat
usual course, turns northwest.

distance,
Making
again,
it
moves
on
for a little
and then turns toward the

it
east.
these winding
movements,
of nearlv five miles in extent,

sinijular
has enclosed, except -on the eastern side, an interval of

three or four thousand acres.
in
beauty, containing
is
some
On
the
isthmus
of this
street
peninsula
in
the jirincipal street of the village, not surpassed

It
is
loveliness
by any
the whole country.
nearly level,
is
sixteen rods in breadth, and lined with trees,
whose verdure
in
summer
is
rich
is
befa-
yond conception.
South ffadley
mous
as
havine been the residence of
Table-Rock, Sugar-Loaf Mountain
Whallev and Goffe, two of the

cides of Charles
I.,
resri-
p^WM
They succeeded
1664, thev
in
they having sat

the
for
in
the
court
which
tried
monarch,
his
and signed
the waiTant
lives
execution.
peril,
escaping from
to
England
It
is
when
said
their
were
in
great
and, in
came
South Hadley.
that
"
when
the house which they occupied was pulled
down
of
the bones of Whalle\'

of mason-
were
iound buried just
without
flags of
the
cellar-wall, in
kind
tomb formed
work, and covered with
hewn
stone."
Not long
after
the
death of Whalley, his

life
companion, Goffe,
left
Hadley, and
spent
the closing days of his
with a son of his
companion
in exile in
Rhode
Island.
We
should be glad to linger about these delightful regions of the Connecticut Vai-

ley.
83
In no direction would
attractive to the eye,
it
be possible
for a
us
to
move without
taste.
finding
ride
something
of not
far
most
and pleasing to
river,
cuhivatcd
us
to
Thus, a
from seven miles east of the

College, founded in
chusetts, man)- of
would
liring
Amherst, the seat of Amherst

literary
1821, and one of the

officers
most flourishing
in
institutions in
Massaof the
in
whose
have stood
the
if,
front
rank
of the
educators
United
the
States.
It
may
be questioned, indeed,
in
extent and variety of knowledge

in
sciences
of geology
and mineralogy, any man
this
country could
be
compared
3?^-^ Mi^^"'^-
'"
'-
Sugar-I-oaf Mounl.iin
from Sunderland.
with Professor Hitchcock
when he was
at
the height of his professional career.

full
But we
must
resist
the temptation which binds us to spots so

"
of attraction and interest, and
move on our
winding way
"
up the
time.
river.
We
feet
pass
Hatfield
and Whatelv, witliout
special examination, for
want of
In the distance rises a conical peak of red sand-
stone, reaching an elevation of five
hundred
from
the
plain.
This
is
Sugar-Loaf
artist,
Mountain,
in
South Deerfield, of which we have two views from the pencil of our
will
and both of them
repay examination.
serious
Although seemingly
difficultv
inaccessible,
Sugar-Loaf
be
Mountain mav be ascended without
on
foot
and
the
tourist will
84
pre TURESO UE AMERICA.

amplv iTwardiMl
liiiuc
for
the
fa-
ol
the-
ascnil wlu-n he
reaches
foot
tlie
sumniil.
At the
tlic
of
llie
mountain
the
attention
will
of
observer
be arrested by a monuthere to
ment erected
memorate
an
comwhich
It
event
1675.
tO(jk place in
in
was
the time of Kina; Philip's
War, when Captain I.athrop

was enticed into an ambush
by the Indians with a com-
pany of
the
"
eighty youno; men,

flower
of
very
Essex
all
County," and
nearly
of
re-
them
o
killed.
This whole
gion was once the scene of
frigfhtful
disaster,
when
the
furv
savages with relentless

attacked
the
feeble
fell
settle-
ments, and
to
their
many
victims
anows and tomaRising some

feet
hawks.
seven
hundred
on
above the plain

village
is
which
the
of
Deerfield stands,
Deerlield
Mountain.
Standing on the
western verge of this mountain,
one gets charming views
of the
sunounding country.
Deerfield River, after passing
over a country
fifty
miles in
extent, discharges
its
waters
into the Connecticut, not far
from the spot

observer stands.
in
which
the
The mead-
ows
in this
neighborhood are
as
especially
worthy of note,

and
its
87
across
as
busy
manufactures.
tiie
single
glance
in
at
the
a
"
iron
horse,"
dashing
as
the the
bridge which spans
Connecticut, sets
motion
cars to
train
of thought
to
its
swift
locomotive
which
drags
behind
itself
is
it
the
still
belonging
train.
How much
of
all
has the railroad

this
valley,
done
how
mart
much
for
do
in
developing
the
the
resources
opening
its
agricultural
products, and
manufactories, whose
to an age
wheels are run by the waters which

lying
far
How down
these descents!
Looking back
beyond that of the settlement of the white

period
a
man, we come to a geological

this
when
far
whole country presented

from
rests
;
scene
different
the
one
on
the
which
the
eye
now
where
as
researches of such
men
as Professor tlitch-
Whetstone Brook, Rrnttleboro.
cock
bring
to our
knowledge
race of
animals,
its
now
extinct, left
the imprint of
footsteps in soil which,
becoming
pet-
rified,
has
borne down to our vision
the
marks of the
forward,
huge
this
creatures
valley
far
once
roaming over these
lands.
anil
Casting
our
thoughts
are
will
we
a
see
dotted
everywhere with villages

that
if
hamlets, in wiiich
here,
gathered
population
outnumbering
which now dwells
whose homes
be abodes of virtue and intelligence.

ing the love of the beautiful, in
And
natural scenery has aught to do in developtaste,
refining
the
and
in
cultivating
large brains
the
imagination,
hearts,
we may
justly expect to find here a cultured people, with
and warm
to
who
will
be
amonfr the best citizens of that vast domain which we
deliirht
call
our
own, our dear country.
88
But we can stay no longer on
this Greenfield
t-minence to inciulye
course, passing
in
these reveries.
We
ston,
descend, thereiore, and
keej)
on, in
our
northerh
will
through
riik'
Bemardre(|uired
|)articuis
and coming to South \"ernon, from which we

us
to that
l)eautit"ul
take the few miles'
to
bring
New-1
lamjjshire
village
Keene.
The
its
We
shall
street,
he
larlv
struck with the length

is
and width
level,
of
its
is
streets.
principal
entire
villages
which
mile long,
an
almost
perfect
to the
and
throughout
length
ornamented
old
trees.
with what adtls so

Blessed be the
trees,
much
charm of our New-England

they had
the
the
taste
fine
memory
of the fathers, in that
good
to
plant
these
foliage
under whose grateful shades their posterity might
linger,
and whose green

rearing, not for
might add so much to the beauty of the homes which they were
selves onl\-, but for their
them-
children
who
should
come
after
them.
Returning from our

are
short circuit,
it
does not take us long to reach Brattleboro.

the country.
We
now
getting into a
more rugged portion of

Vernon, and are now
in
We
crossed the boundary-line of Massachusetts at
W-rmont.
Brattleboro has the well-deserved reputation of being
among
spects
health.
the most beautiful sites on the Connecticut.

preiiminent, and
for
As
a sanitarium,
it
is
in
some
search
re-
manv
years
has
been
resorted to
by persons
in
ot
its
The Asvlum
country,
for the
is
Insane, long regarded as one of the best institutions of

in
)cind in the
located
this
place.
Brattleboro
here
is
has
said
also
several
large
and
well-conducted water-cure establishments.

purity, issuing cool
The water
to
be
of remarkable
air,
and most refreshing from the

in
all
hill-sides.
The
fine,
invigorating
and the romantic scenery which

which invalids love to
resort.
directions meets the eye,
make
this village
one
to
We
has
give a representation of
Mount
is
Chesterfield,
which
presents a singularly regular and unbroken appearance.

that
One
the
almost tempted to think
good old
Izaak
Wîlton
come back from

in
other
so
world to enjoy
in
this
enchanting region the piscatorial pleasures
which
he
took
much
delight
when he
will fain
was an inhabitant of our

hope that he
gets,
earth.
Something more than "glorious nibbles" we

fat,
and that a basket of

for the
toothsome
trout,
his
weighmg
at least a
pound
each, will reward
him
is
tramp he has taken from
home
to catch them.
Our next
stage
twenty-four miles, bringing us to
the well-known
for a few
Bellows
at
Falls.
In passing over this stage in our journey
we have stopped
State,
moments
Dum-
merston, one
of the
oldest
towns
in
the
watered
centre
by Wêst
River and several

is
small streams, useful
as water-power.
Near
the
of the
town
what
is
called
Black Mountain, an immense body of granite, through which passes a

ceous
slate.
range
of argilla-
Our
artist
has given us
a
is
sketch
of an
old
mill
in
Putney, a
few miles
north of Dummerston.
necticut
as
This village
beautifully situated
limits
is
on the west bank of the Contract
River, and embraces within
its
an
extensive
of river-level,
known
dis-
the
Great
of
Meadows.
hundred
Wîr,
in
Sackett's
Brook
a considerable stream,
fifty
which within a
the
tance
of the
one
rods
1
falls
one hundred and

settlement
feet.
On
fort
breaking
out
French
744,
was begun and
erected
on
Great
THE VALLEY OF
Meadows.
minster,
T//E
^Vcstline
CONNECTfCUT.
Sg
Our
route has taken
us
a
throu.iih
whose
soil
has
made
it
partieularJN
agrieultural
reo;ion.
A
the
semicircle
river
of
hills
encloses
the
place, touching
two miles above and
helow the town.
While
this
has the effect to add to the

natural beauty of the place,
it
has been the occasion of
its
being
deprived
of
the
water-power
hills
which
comes
places
from
along
beino-
the
the
di-
in
so
many
the
Connecticut,
verted
streams
away from the

it.
village
instead
of llowing through
Bellows
Old
Mill.
Falls,
of which
is
we have
Putney.
three pictures(]ue views,

as the stopping-place
well
known
of the
railways,
and, to
some
extent, a
place
of
summer
resort.
The
falls,
which give the chief charm
to the place, are a succession
of raiiids in the Connecticut.
These rapids extend not

a
partial
far
from a mile along the base
of a high
and
precipit.uis
hill,
\iew of which we
90
have
in
one of the sketches,

bears
tlie
whicli
name
of
VaW
Mountain.
vStanding
on the bridge which crosses

the
into low.
river,
one looks down
the foaming flood be-
The
is
gorge
at
this
it
point
so
if
narrow that
seems
as
one could almost

it.
leap over
Through
water
this
chasm
the
dashes
wildly, striking with prodiSfious
force
on
the
rocks
below, and by the reaction

is
driven
back
for
quite a
space upon
itself.
In a dis-
tance
of
half
mile
the
fifty falls
water
feet.
descends about
Apart from the

not be
tourist
there will
much
in
to
detain
spot.
the
this
There
are
several
pleasant
cinity
villages in
the vi-
to
which
agreeable
excursions
may
be made.
Keeping
northerly
to
on
in
our
course,
we come
Charlestown.
At
this
point there are in the Connecticut River three beautiful islands,
the largest
Sartan
well's
Island
having
from
area of ten acres, and well

cultivated.
The
far
other two
six acres
have not
each in them.
first
Among
of
this
the
settlers
place
was Captain Phinehas Stevens.
When
the
fort,
of
THE VALLEY OF THE COXNECTLCUT.

95
White-River Junction.
ism^
Moose
Hillock,
from
Newhurv Meadows.
96
resque scenes which our
artist
has given us of the
Connecticut.
From
the
meadows
of
of
Xewburv
we
the
is
seen the elevation called
Moose
the
Hillock.
traveller,
few miles
line
north
Newbury
to
reach Wells-River
junction, whence
or,
by one
of railroad, goes
far
White Mountains,
by another, proceeds
cmj)t\-
to
Montreal.
Not
from
this
point
the waters of the
Ammonoosuck
represents
into the Connecticut.

in
Our
towns
in
last
sketch
scene
Barnet, Vermont, one of the
best
farming
the
the State, and abounding in slate and iron-ore.

is
The water-power on
Pas-
sumpsic and Stevens Rivers

River, of which
one of the
is
finest
in
all
this region.
in
The
fall
in
Stevens
we have
a view,
one hundred
feet
the short distance of ten rods.

its
Not
far
'from this point the river Passumpsic discharges
waters into the
Connecticut.
several
From
this point
onward
on
it
bears the character of a mountain-stream.
There are
pleasant villages
either side of the river, as
we
follow
it
up to
its
very source in the
northern part of
New
Hampshire.
The
lover of
Nature may be sure of finding abunall
the beautiful dant material to gratify his taste for the sublime and
through
this
most
picturesque region.
Steveiii
Brook,
Bainel.
4:
fr

II.IX-STRATEIJ BV
GRANVILLE PERKLNS.the
old, sturdy
A 1 ri-IEN
'
Captain
Puri-
John
Smith
tiie
tan fashion, jiunishing

rigorousl\all
adventured upon
oaths by
wide
waters
of
the
in
pouring a can of cold

water
Chesapeake
Bay
down
the sleeve,
two
frail,
open
find
boats,
he put back hurriedly

to
we do not
that
Jamestown.
On
he explored the broad

estuary
the
second expedition he
entered the
now known
as
Potomac
Patuxent,
Patapsco
River.
and
the
Beaten by storms mu\

driven
verse
astray
but went
no
in
farther.
by adpraying
in
E\ en when,
the
1634,
winds,
sino-ino-
Ark
and
the
and
psalms
Dove,
after a
stormy
Washinylon
.\l()nunn.-iit.
98
voyage,
landed
the
Pilgrims of Maryland
iipliiiiiW
at
St.
Clement's
Isle,
the
Potomae was
re-
garded as the
seat
future
of
first
government.
of the colo-
The
nists
who, either over-
land through the wilderness, or, as

is
more
probable, entering the

river
from
the the
bay,
fu-
stood
upon
ture site of Baltimore
town,
is
unknown.
No
It
romantic legends
city's birth.
attend the
is
certain,
it
however,
until
that
was not
after
some time
1634
that the colonists ven-
tured
older
to
leave
the the
towns
and
on
Potomac
brave
the dangers supposed

to coexist with prox-
imity to
the warlike
Susquehannas.
these
Even
had
first settlers
no forecasting of the
advantages a city
the
at
head of such
stretch
an
of
immense
inland
offer.
water
would
Their only de-
sire
was
to
be
on
navigable
ships
stream,
where
anchor
could
safety.
with
BALTIMORE AND
The
immediate
this
J-
M /RONS.
99
surshel-
roundings of
tered
cove
on the Pa-
tapsco were nevertheless
such
as
to
render
its
borders
tractive.
remarkably
at-
The
fresh nat-
ural beauties of the land
which greeted and

lighted those
debuilt
who
here
upon the edge of

are
lost
the wilderness
to
their
later
descendFalls,
ants.
Jones's
is
which
now
great
and ever-recurring nuisance,
was then
a pure
and limpid forest-stream,

the basin and the harbor
as quiet
and peaceful
island-shore
as
in
any
the
far
depths
of
ocean.
The woods came down

to the water's edge and
clothed the broken

that
rise,
hills
interlaced
by
small but rapid streams

far
into
the
interior.
So
even
without
that
extraordinary
of future
foresight
growth
with
which
some
historians
would endow the founders of the city, they
had
good and
sons
for
sufficient rea-
their
in
choice.
Here, then,
ter
the
lat-
part
of the
seven-
teenth
centurv, the va-
lOO
"points"
rious
and "necks" which
run
the
out
sharply
into
the
river
were
successively
patented..
Prosaic
Jonestown
to
arose,
chief production
of which, judgintj
from
the
old
ino-
maps, appears
cabbages.
the
have
been
almost
preternaturally
symmetrical
with
rows
an
of lluurish-
Huge hogsheads
middle
so
as
of tobacco, stoutly
hooped, and
axle
driven
through
neo-roes,
to
form
are
huge
still
roller,
and
as
diawn
by
horses
driven
by
were trundled
over what
known
"rolling
roads" to
town;
;
flour-
ishing mills, tanneries, and other manufacturing industries, soon
became established
and with
trade
proseast
with the neighboring

perity
States
and with the West
Indies
increased;
this
cities
came the demand
that the
name
of
Jonestown be discarded, and the

title,
and west of the Falls be consolidated under a new
that
of the
in
first
proprietary-
Lord Baltimore. Vandyck.

It
picture of this worthy gentleman exists

off
Washington, painted by
portraits of
was bartered
by a Legislature of Maryland
for a series of
the early governors by Peale.
This sponsor of the city could not but have been a con-
spicuous figure at a brilliant court.

his smallclothes are of
His
portrait
is
that of a
man
tall
and
finely
formed
blue velvet, the coat embroidered elaborately, having open sleeves

in
silk
lined with
blue
;
silk,
and brocaded
is
the
;
same color;
his
it
his doublet
is
worked
inlaid
;
in
gold
and colors
broad
sash
his
sash
of orange
waist
breastplate
of blue
steel,
and the
around
his
shows above
the
hilt
of a sword studded with jewels.
He
wears the heavy powdered wig of his times, and
black
shoes with
box-toes and
is
gold buckles.
figure
Such, in rich array, as bodied forth by the hand of a master,

Baltimore,
the
city's
the stately
in
of Lord
patron.
There were
fitness
and propriety
English
the
choice other than that of historic gratitude.
Baltimore was long an

society the founder of
its
provincial
town
been
in
at
many
of
its
characteristics.
In
its
Maryland would have
his ease.
Gentlemen of the old
school,
citizens
danced their solemn minuets

sociable, kind-hearted,
and cotillons; talked much, but read

hospitable,
city
little;
and were eminently

lives.
and happy
gallants
in the
repose of unhurried
It
was
a picturesque
day for the

;
when
wore the three-cornered cocked-hat, powdered

-
hair
and cue
coats
many - pocketed,
narrow, light
colored,
and curiously embroidered; smallclothes, striped
stockings, and shoes with wide silver buckles.
And
the
lost
then the
ladies, witty, sprightly,
gay
the
From
CarroUs,
the
Catons,
the
Pattersons,
Ridgeleys,
its
and
their
for
fair
companions.
at-
that time to this Baltimore has
never
reputation
the
beauty and
courtesy
tractiveness
of
its
women, nor
for
the
hospitality
and
cordial,
frank
of the
homes they
Wê
before
grace.
in
find
scarce
pamphlet by
"It
is
pleasant
that
writer,
city
who
visited
Baltimore just
the
War
of 1812:
computed
inhabitants.
the
under the general

of opulence
name
to
of
Baltimore contains forty thousand

the the
The people
seem
enjoy
good
things,
and even the luxuries of

savoir
vivrc
is
life,
with greater gout than their neighbors to
eastward;
the
well
understood;
and
their
markets, of course,
are
table." yearly improving in almost every article that adds to the comfort and sjilendor of the

Address," delivered
ing, dark, stone
in
105
the Senate-Chamber
to
of the
State-House
visitor
is
at
Annapolis.
a
wind-
stairway leads
the
top,
and the
provided with
city
lantern
when about
is
to
make
the long and tedious ascent.

is
The view
of the
and
in
Patapsco
effective-
peculiar and f;ir-reaching, but
almost a bird's-eye
multitude, a
sea,
down-look, and
loses
ness.
Below
is
an
innumerable
of roofs, from wiiich, like
masts, rise
the spires of the churches, the pointed pinnacles of public buildings, and, like huge ironclads, the glittering
rounded metal roofs of the machine-shops and market-halls.

hills
To
the
north and west the

with forest-growth.
clear seen.
are
dotted with villages
and isolated dwellings, or are heavy

bay,
To
the south the Patapsco stretches far away to the

at
and on a
day the glittering spire of the State-House
Annapolis, forty miles distant, can be

is
The
configuration of the land-locked harbor

right,
especially well defined, the Spring
Gardens to the
the
inner
and
outer
harbor
in
the
middle ground, the various

left.
points and necks, and the wharves and manufactures of Canton to the extreme
Any idea of Baltimore would Two prominent points afford view.

still
be
this.
nevertheless
incomplete without
better water-
Patterson
Park
1812,
is
in
East
the
Baltimore.
British
Here
remain the earthworks thrown up
in the
War
of
when
landed at
less al-
North Point, twelve miles below.

literative
Patterson
Park was formerly known

Hill.
It
by the
to
and euphonious name of Loudenslager's
was
sop
Cerberus, the
many-headed being, represented by the people of East Baltimore, or Old Town, or the
city east of the Falls,
who were
dissatisfied
with
the
si.x
appropriation
miles distant.
for
Druid-Hill Park
is
beyond the western

resort of the
limits of
the city, and
some
The park
offer
a great
its
beaux and
belles
of East
Baltimore, and
off the
many an
of a
row on
from
lake of a soft summer's

side of her
evening carries
lady,
by no
means
reluctant,
the
more timid but watchful mother.

is
Federal Hill, on the opposite side of the harbor, than Patterson Park.
war.
better
known
outside of the city
To many
the
name
will
suggest
interesting
reminiscences of the
The
fortifications
then constructed
city,
still
remain, although guns from their embrasures
no longer threaten the
and from the
flag-staff
and station shown
in
the
engraving
prosperity.
a
the flag of war has been superseded by the peaceful
emblems of commercial
As
the signals go up with their familiar letters,
it
is
known
to the pilots that
ship
is
in the offing.
puff of
smoke
rises in
little
the
harbor, and, with quick, short
snorts
from
her powerful engine, a pert, saucy
tug goes out on the chance of
a tow.
Below Federal Hill
lies
Fort Mcllenry, and eight miles
down
the
river
the
round,
white, and unfinished walls of Fort Carroll rise above the water from Soller's
Flats.
A
in
prisoner
on board a
"
British
man-of-war,
Francis
Scott
Key
The
here
wrote
the
fort
is
national
still
song of the
Star-Spangled Banner."
The
flag that
then waved over the

original
flag
the possession of a descendant of Colonel

feet long,
Armistead.
was
cut
tliirty-six
with fifteen stripes and fifteen
stars.
is
One
of the stars has
been
out
and
given away.
On
one of the white

es
stripes
written the
name
of Colonel
George Armi-
io6
Druid-Hill
Park.
Stead,
who commanded
the
American
still
forces
during the
1873
bombardment.
The
printer-boy
in
who
put the famous sons; in type

exists.
It has
July,
survives,
relics.
and the paper
which
it
was published yet

ship
only been, indeed, within a few years that the British

it
Minden, on board of which
was composed, was broken up
as
be\-ond
service.
Her
timbers \vere eagerly bought by Americans as
From By
the fort the most agreeable
method of getting back
to the citv
citv
is
by engaging
one of the half-amphibious young watermen that ]Av between the

shore.
this
and the opposite
means the wide, sweeping
front of the harbor
is
seen.
The
water-line
is
e.xceedingly irregular, and the wharves are thrust out side by side like the }irojecting cogs
of
some
vast wheel.
Many
the
of these wharves are very old

of the person
as
is
old as the city itself in
tact.
They
are
known by
name
The
who
built
them
as
Bowh's Wharf
Spear's
Wharf
or Smith's Whaif.
present trade of the port
becoming too great
for their
capacity.
Larger
facilities
are slowlv
coming
an
into use.
At Locust Point
the enterprising
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad has

finest
in
Iniilt
immense
pier
and grain-elevator
the
one
of the
their
the United States
for
its
vast business.
Here
Bremen steamers land

freight and" passengers, while the
107
immigrants
for the
West
farther
are
taken
at
once
the
on board
peculiariis
the cars and shipped to their destination.

ties
Coming
is
up the
river, all
of the harbor can be seen.
Behind us
is
Fort
McHenrv;
to
the
left
Federal
Hill, with its signals flying;
to the right
the wide expanse of the river, the
numerous
front
is
manufacturing industries that crowd the shore of the

confused and blended mass of buildings
inland, the spires of churches
ings.
;
Canton Company.
In
;
its
first,
the
factories
and warehouses
then,
more
and the
outlines, the
mere suggestions, of private dwellhave

sent
Covering the water, the" bay and

;
tributaries
up
peculiar
class
of
sailing-craft
oyster-pungies and the swift-sailing market-boats

vessels
there
are
no better
sailers
anywhere than these low, rakish
bay-steamers,
and the crowd
of sail-boats
that
ply on the Patapsco and the inland waters of Maryland and \"irginia;
ships and the
to a long
the ocean-steamsails
South-American
;
traders,
whose battered
sides
and dingy
bear witness
voyage
and ships that come from ports along the Atlantic coast from Maine
to Florida.
So deep
stitute, six
is
the indentation of
distant, that
tlie
harbor, from
Light
Street
to
the
Maryland
In-
squares
city.
the
boats
run
up within a few hundred yards of the

is
centre
of the
The
regular
landing-place
near
the
Institute,
and a walk
This
to
up
Lombard
be
called
Street opens the vista
of
Exchange Place and

Baltimore.
the
Custom-House.
Place
is
may
the commercial centre of

cases, a
To
be on Exchange
credit.
be, in
the majorit}' of
large
merchant of standing and

is
The Custom-House
cost
amount of money,
Passinsf
imposing, and worth a glance.

Street
in
out
of
Exchange Place and through South
devoted
city.
to
brokers,
rest-
bankers, and insurance agents

less
into
is
Baltimore Street, and
one short square the
stream of greatest travel
met.
More
persons
pass the
comer of Baltimore and

Near here
Calvert Streets in the course of the day than over any other spot in the
are the largest hotels,
and seen
in
in
the the
perspective
of the
2.
sketch
the
left
is
the
Battle
Monu-
ment, erected to those
who
fell
War
of
181
To
is
Barnum's, of gasdine
tronomic fame, where guests are supposed, from the

in
city's
special
celebrity, to
day
and day out on

Here,
also,
tuitle
and
terrapin,
Chesapeake
It
is
oysters,
and
soft-crabs.
first
the
hackman
hovers.
a curious custom, dating from the

It
ordi-
nances of the
right,
city, that certain
hack-stands are established.

that,
has
become
so
much
by use
from
the
time
immemorial,
although
the
hacks standing around Battle

has
Monument mar
eye
of the
appearance of the
square, the
privilege
never been
the
interfered
with by the authorities.
If accosted, as will inevitably be
the
case, if
quick-trained
hackman
discovers
stranger, with
the
let
offer
it
of a
conveyance, which the

that
world
over
is
invariablv follows
such recognition,
be
is
remembered
a
Druid-Hill
of which
Park
too distant for the most vigorous pedestrian, but

justl\-
pleasure-ground
the citizens are
proud, and one
b}-
no means to be neglected by the

in
visitor.
In the year 1858 old Lloyd Rogers was
secure possession
of an ancestral
estate
loS
city.
It
on the northern suburbs of the

anil the
first
IkuI
been
in
the
family since
the
Revolution,
taste.
owner, an officer
of
in
the
Revolutionary Army, was a
man
of
Some
recollection
try-seats k'd
the parks and lawns, the stately trees and wide avenues of English counto lay out
his
liiin
grounds with
admirable judgment.
So year
after
year
the rugged, gnarled oaks, the symmetrical chestnuts, the straight and well-massed hickories,
and the
tall,
dome-like poplars, grew in shape and form to please the
artistic eye.
Down
soil
in the valleys
and on the Mr.
hill-slopes the
untended forest-growth covered the

he
died,
its
rich
in
tangled
luxuriance.
Lloyd Rogers was an old man when

Latterly he
and
resided
almost alone on
the
place.
had given
little
thought to
improvement.
Hampden
Falls.
The
family mansion was
sadly in
need of
repair,
and
the
barns and out-buildings wêre
leaky and dilapidated.

to neglect and decay.
The whole
place had the
appearance of having been given

select
over
to
this
When
the commissioners appointed to

city offered
tract
of land
for
form
]xn-k
for
the rapidly-growing
what was then
high
price
place, the offer
was accepted.
Public opinion, hitherto divided as to the proper location,
crystallized at once in favor of the purchase.
So manifold were
its
the advantages, so great
the natural beauties of the estate, that dissent from
fitness
was impossible.
city,
hills
Druid-Hill Park
nearly seven hundred
lies
immediately on the northern suburbs of the

of well-diversified
surface.
and embraces
rise
acres
Steep,
wooded
to
two

hundred
city
feet
109
above
river.
tide,
giving glimpses
of the
surrounding country, and views of the

cool,
and the
Ouiet, sequestered
springs
dells,
and
shaded valleys, watered by streams

that
and rejoicing
in
of the
purest water;
drives
wind through meadows and

trees,
woods;
bridle-paths
and foot-ways that seldom leave the welcome shadow of the

rural
render the
park
one of great
beauty
all
and sylvan
seclusion.
It
is
indeed
not
made show-ground, but
a park with
a park's natural attractiveness of
wood and
water,
grassy lawns, with branching shade-trees and avenues that arc lost in fcnest-depths.
architectural ornamentation
is
All
tlie
brought together around the central point the old family

This
is
mansion,
now
restored and enlarged.
the favorite place of meeting of those
who
Jones's
Falls.
ride or drive
from the
city.
About
twilight of the evenings of early

carriages, carrying
summer
of the
or
autumn
the scene
is
at its brightest,
shift
and horses and
much
beauty and
is
wealth of Baltimore,
and change with incessant motion.

little
The
favorite drive
Hill,
around
by Woodberry, a sturdy
town of recent growth, and Prospect
and back by the
storage-reservoir of Druid Lake.

lake, the
On
the approach to the white tower at the head of this
upper part of the
city gradually
comes
into view.
To
the right
is
Druid Lake,
in
lying too low to be

its
much
affected by the prevailing winds, l)ut stirring

reflective,
and simmering
restless
left
motion, glassy and
shedding the light as a mirnor set in rock.

cur\'e.
To
is
the
an abrupt runs the Northern Central Railroad around
The foreground
no
;
cut up bv deep, gravellv ra\ iucs
the eminence on which stands the

distant
Mount-Royal ReserNorth Boundary

upon the
voir; and, immediately in front of the
suhuriis, the depression of
Avenue.
The town
;
lie\ond
is
fringed
by
tiie
is
outlying spires of the
churches
northern suburbs
here
for this
northwest section
a perfect nest of cliurches.
They emigrate
by the constant
by twos
anil
threes
from
Old Town,
or
East
Baltimore, drawn
Mill
on Jones's
Falls.
migration of the
a small
members
of their congregations to the north and westward.

that
is
It is
only
is
segment of Baltimore
here seen, although the distant \'iew of the river

is
very extended.
In this direction the town
increasing most rapidly, and, like
some huge
dragon, eatins: awav the green fields of the countrv.

old the streets, the dwellings,
all
Before these words are

of lamp
manv
vcars
the
unpicturesqueness
and telegraph
pole, of
curb-stone
and gutter,
will
be up to the limits of the
embankment
upon
which
-.
we
are standing.
"^
From
here one of the
--
peculiar beauties of the vicinity of Baltimore will
be remarked
hills
the
rolling, elevated,
it.
rounded
chain
that
nearly environ
The
of lakes
is
and
reservoirs, in
which Druid Lake
but a link, and which supplies the city
Lake Roland.
with
pure water, extends
through
of
to
one
this
of the
most
beautiful
portions
capacity
broken country.
the
city,
if
Druid
Lake
itself
is
but
storage-lake,
with
the
afford
needful,
sixty
days'
consumption.
Nearer the
city lies
Mount-Roval Reservoir,
and, above,
Hampden
Reservoir.
Falls,
We
now
follow Jones's Falls, which presents us with
some water-views
Hampden
ami the
Cotton Mills of Mount \"ernon
little
sketches that are but suggestive types; and then
12
to
we come
Lake Roland, clasped

It
is
in
the
embrace of bold
scene.
hills,
and winding,
river-like,
around jutting peninsulas.

morning, or
in
charming
of
tlie
In the
fresh,
it
dewy
sparkle of early
in
the
soft
closing-in
evening shadows,
is
beautiful
varying
moods
the
as
the
iiill
ever-changing, ever-new face of the waters answers to the drifting clouds;
hea\-\-
shadows, the trees that

to
sentinel
its
its
margin, or
;
come down
fitful
disorderly,
irregular
troop
mirror
themselves
in
bosom
or to the
;
caprices of
Nature
around,
now
bright with glint
and gleam of sun or
stars
now sombre and murky under

the
rain, as
driving winds
and
masses of low, drifting clouds, pelting with
with falling
shot, the gray surface.
The
point.
lake
is
very deceptive as to
size,
it
as only bits of
it
can be seen
from any one
The
official
measurement gives
this,
seven miles in circumference and a mile and a

the
series, is
half in length.
Even
the
fifth
in
not
the
five
last
of the
complicated
system by which the

dered
efficient.
Baltimore Water-works, costing over

farther
million
dollars, are renits
Se\-en miles
hills, is
up,
where the Gunpowder River cuts
way
be-
tween two narrow
derived, by
means
of expensive works, a supplementary supply,
Scene on Lake Roland.

yet
to
"3
city will
hccome one of
the
principal
sources
for
upon which the

statistical
depend, by an
as
aqueduct ten miles long

can
best
Pardon us
of the
being
for
moment,
has
a
thereby
we
show
the
extent
present works.
Druid
Lake
capacity of four
Lake Roland Dam.
hundred and twenty million gallons

ions
;
Lake Roland,
millions;
three
hundred and twenty-five

thirty-two
mill-
Hampden
Reservoir,
fifty-two
Mount-Royal Reservoir,
millions.
mill-
ions;
and a new high-service

will
reservoir,
twenty-seven
The Gunpowder works,

than
three
when completed,
quantity
be capable of supplying the city with more
times
the
now
given bv Jones's Falls and Roland's Run.
^,t(_
Lake Roland above the Dam.
All
the
streams
around
Baltimore
afford
scenes
of
much
quiet
beauty.
;
Herring
Run
to the east has been
honored by the brush of more than one
artist
and Gwynn's
banks, which
Falls, a rapid
stream to
the west, presents

8
many
quaint
old
mills
on
its
"4
seem
past.
to Ikuc
talkn
aslec-p
listrning
to
the
ceaseless
monotone of
the
waters
flowing
Reminiscences these, gabled, steep-roofed, weather-worn, of the time not long afte'^ tlie Revolution, when Baltimore was the largest flour-market in the United States^ The Patapsco, in what is known as the North Branch, is also
a favorite
sketching-ground.
With
the)-
all
their beauty these streams are at times terrible agencies of destruction.^

ever.N'
Down
mark of
come, bearing
the
historN-
thing
before
their
resistless force,
those freshets and floods of

Institute
is
which
of the city records many.
At
the
Maryland
m
/5^>..
i:^
t;:^"^^
%-^^ ^^*^-^^-^=^^^^
^4
^4.
'^^^^^^-
Ihe Patapsco
at
Ilchester.
the height of the flood of i868, six
feet
from
the
street,
and
the water backed
up to
within one square of the centre of the

l)et\veen
city.
An
impassable barrier was
suddenly thrust
East and
West Baltimore-all
down with
a
the bridges over the Falls were swept offlheavy

buildings were undermined, whirled round,
stone mills went
crash-wooden
were
lost.
and carried away, and many
lives
The charge
ceptionally
that
Baltimore, while an elevated, beautiful, remarkably clean, and une.xpossesses
healthy
city,
but
few
places
of striking
interest,
has
been
often

made.
will
It
is
115
unjust now, as the pencil of

fair
Mr. Perkins has proved, and

be uttered.
in
in
a few years
it
be but
to
presume that
it
will cease to
In addition to the objects

for
of aesthetic or historic interest thought suitable

of the
artist,
the preceding pages
the
purposes
the
the
Potomac Tunnel,
of
the
Baltimore
and
Potomac Railway, and

by the more famous
Union Tunnel,
and girdle the
of the
city
Canton Company,
underground
complete
to
are surpassed only
Iloosic,
the
its
north
and
east.
By
the generosity of Johns

five
Hopkins,
a university,
in all will
departments, endowed with more than
mill-
ion dollars,
secured.
and attached to which
be a park of six hundred acres, has been already

so that the largest class of vessels
The harbor channel has been deepened,

to the wharves
;
now
come up
and, before long, a ship-canal will be cut across
Mar)dand and
Delaware to the ocean, and the voyage to Europe be shortened two days.
to five million dollars are to be spent
From
four
on Jones's Falls; the stream
will
be straightened,
it
floods rendered harmless, and what
is
now
an
unsightly ditch will
then,
is
hoped, be
an ornament to the
city.
Within
a year
the City Hall will
be
completed, and be one

entire
of the finest municipal structures in the United States, occupying an

facing four streets, with walls of white
to the top of the
square
and
Maryland marble, and

feet.
in
height,
from the ground

,
dome, one hundred and seventy-two
bcciit:
oil
the
Palajibco.
THE CATSKILLS.
WITH
1
LL U ST R A T
OX
V.
11
A R R
F E
NN
'iSr
The Mountain House.
f
fij
A
-^
^^ÛT
forty
one hundred and

miles
from
the
sea,
on the western bank of the

the
Hudson,
tains which,
es
chain
of
moun-
under various names, stretchSt.
from the banks of the
Lawrence
a
to
r#'\f"';
>-'^':'''^^'jS'i*
Georgia and Tennessee, throws out

east.
Inoken hnk toward the

closely
Ckistering
'%"^:'^'!^''/^'^t'x'''
together,
settlers
these
isolated
mountains,
of
"
to
which
the
early
Dutch
eight
gave
of
the
the
name
and,
a
Catskills,"
approach
bas-
within
tion
miles
river,
like
an
ad\anced
distance,
side,
of
the
great
rocky
wall,
command
in
the the
valley
for
considerable
and
they
form
one
of the
most
striking features
landscape.
On
the
western
THE CA TSKILLS.
slope
into
117
gradually
spurs
toward
ridges
in
the
central
part
of
the the
State
of
New
York,
running
off
and
every direction.
On
four
eastern, however, they rise

feet,
abruptly
from the valley to a height of more than

at
thousand
piihii
resembling,
i)caks
when looked
representing
from
the
river,
gigantic
fist
with
the
downward, the
the knuckles, and the glens and cloves the spaces between them.
their kindred,
Thus
separated
from
and pushed forward many miles

a
in
ad\-ance of them, the\' overlook a great

a point of
far
extent of country, affording

greater elevation.
wider and
more varied view than many
Indeed, from
few places, even
among
hill
the .Alps
valle\;
of
Switzerland, does
the traveller see beneath him a greater range of

ican stands
and
and \ct many an Amerprospect,
on the summit of the
Righi, rapt in
in
admiration
of the wonderful
as
ignorant
that a view nearly as
extensive, and
parts
many
respects
!
remarkable,
are
may
be
found
in
one of the
earliest-settled
for
of his
own country
Nor
the
Catskill
Mountains famous only
this
celebrated bird's-eye view.
They
contain
some of the
View of Mount.iins from Creek,
C.nlskiU- .Mountain
Road.
most picturesque
the Falls of the
bits of
mountain-scenery
in
the world.
The
beauties of the Clove and
Kauterskill have been immortalized by Irving and
Cooper and Bryant,

its
passing into the classics of American literature, and awakening in the genius of Cole
loftiest
inspiration.
After such
illustrators,
the
task
of describing
difficult
in
the
charms of
this
beautiful
group of mountains would seem to

but
a
be as
as
the
attempt were
of
pre-
sumptuous;
sketches
It
few
notes
in
may, perhaps, be
tliis
useful
explanation
some of
the
made by Mr. Fenn
shrine of
for
summer
the
pilgrimage.
was mid-August when we
started
Catskills.
Though
it
Was
early
when
a
wê
left
New -York
The
City,
no
air
was
stirring,
and
the
hot
morning gave promise of
hotter day.
train
steamed out of the huge depot into the glare of the early sunlight,
beneath
ihe wlicels in a white, dry cloud.
tlie
and the dust

rushed with
a
dark,
began to whirl up
We
have
into
lightning-speed
along the eastern bank of
Hudson ^now plunging

;
damp
tunnel
cut
through
the
overhanging rock
now
whirling
around some
iiS
PIC TURESO UE
A MERICA
^P^
'
THE CATSKILLS.
tain,
HQ
or rather between
it
and
its
northern neighbor, your eye detects a small speck, hangIt is the
ing like a swallow's-nest upon a wall, white and glistening in the sun.
Mountain
House, from the broad piazza of which three or four hundred human beings are perhaps,
at this
moment, looking out over the landscape which

faint
lies
beneath them like a map, and

train.
noting the
line of
white
smoke
that
marks the passage of our

is
scream
escapes from the locomotive, and the speed

stop.
slackened.
Presently
wc come
;
to a dead
Bundles are quickly made

in
a
;
crowd of
travellers hurries
from the cars

;
baggage
is
thrown about
cloud
wild confusion
train
the locomotive gives a warning whistle
and, amid a
to
of dust, the
whirls
uji
little
the river, and
out
of sight
on
its
way
Albany.
A
we
ferrv-boat lies waiting at the

are
off.
wharf
few gasps from the asthmatic engine, and
few turns of the lumbering wheel, and we have reached the western bank.
stages
Old-fashioned
stand
by the landing, awaiting our

;
arrival.
In a
little
while our
trunks
jolted
are
strapped
on
as
behind
the
and, seated each in his place,

roll
we swing
little
about, and are
up and down,
huge vehicles
through
the
village
of
Catskill.
South Lake.
We
have
mouth of the Kauterskill, and have presently crossed the bridge which spans the The The day is intensely hot. the mountains. fairly begun our ride toward
us
road stretches before

stand
their
white
and dusty
of
in
the
sunshine.
often,
On
as
either
side
the
trees
i)ull
drooping, unstirred
by a breath
rise
air;
and
a
our
horses
slowly
heavy burden up a
tree
in the
road,
his
and stop
moment
In
the
to rest, a locust, perched
on
by the road-side, begins

trees,
grating crv.
flies
;
meadows
recently-cut
the
cows stand
breathes
under the
out
its
life
switching away the

the
soft
buzzing
and the
In
grass
in
perfume of new-mown
tops
of
the
ha\-.
the
distance, the
clouds have
begun to gather on the

of thunder
mountains;
and,
now and
down
the
then,
into
long
rumble
reverberates through them, and

to
comes
rolling
us,
the valley.
Here
Mr.
with
line
Fenn pauses
its
make
his
first
sketch.
Beside
little
Kauterskill, wearied
rough journey
down from
in
the
heights
yonder,
winds
among
the
trees
in
that
its
banks, i^lacidly smiling
the
sun.
Half a dozen cows are standing
the
stream to cool themselves.
feet in In front, the valley rolls gradually (about a thousand
THE CATSKILLS.
stant ascent.
127
of conglom-
In a few minutes you have

feet
in
reached
the
level
of a
stratum
erate of
tain.
many
thickness, which lies across the top of this and the
North Mounlies
Some
convulsion of Nature
feet
in
has
riven
off a
i)iece
of
it,
which
now
on the and the
hill-side,
many
is
thickness,
and eighteen or twenty
iiigh.
Between
in
this
solid rock
a -passage several feet in length
and two or three
widtli, to
which some
Looking South from South Mountain.
one has given the name of "Pudding-Stone

cesses of the rock,
this
Hall."
Ferns are growing

cavity.
in
the dark
re-
and water drips constantly into the

pile
Your
path leads through
chasm,
and,
bv means of a
of stones
at
the
farther
end, as
shown
in
the
Here the trees are vuu climb up to the top of the ledge of conglomerate. and the path winds among the white and dead, having been killed by repeated fires, or blueberry-bushes, until it comes out to the rocks, half buried in long mountain-grass
sketch,
128
eastern
face
of
tlic
mountain.
high
al)ove
Vou
the
arc,
of course, of
the
le\el
Mountain
you
House, which
to
Hes
beneath
the
left,
and the view over
the surrounding country and the

valley
of
the
Hudson
than
is
even
from
a
more extended
that
the piazza of the hotel.
With
good
round
glass
you can
distinguish a
object
a
glittering
hill
on
the
summit of
ern
at
on the northis
horizon.
It
the
Capitol
Albany, forty miles off as the

flies.
crow
Farther
along,
still
keeping southward, and occasionally
climbing up steep
the
cliffs
steps,
you
fine.
find
exceedingly
are
Some
and
of them
sharply cut,
overhang the
that
tops
of
the
tallest trees
grow from the
debris at their
l)ase.
On
promthe
ontory of high
rock,
near
entrance to the Kauterskill Clove,

lies "
the Bowlder," which
is
often
It
the
is
goal
of walking-parties.
huge block of the pudding-
stone brought here, doubtless, by

the ice in the glacial period, and
left
by some strange chance on

of the
prccijMce.
it
the very verge
few
feet farther
and
would
have toppled over the edge and

crashed
feet
downward two thousand

the
into
bottom
of
the
Clove.
the
Mr. Fenn has sketched

cliffs
Bowlder and the

it
on
his
top of which
Glimpse of
Catskill
lies.
From
look
Clove liom
luJian
Head.
point
of
view you
south-
THE CATSKILLS.
ward, across the
Clovê,
129
mouth
of the of
the
great
shoulder
^ .
'i^^
^..i>
%.
^?:
High
rising
Peak and Round Top

up
in
abruptly
beyond.
Here, as
sunrise,
the sketch of the

precipitous
walls
the
of rock
for
hardly afford
foothold
pines
the
weather
beaten
that
grow out of the

wave
their
crevices
and
twisted
arms
from the dizzy heights.

times,
after
Somethrough
passing
Pudding-Stone Hall, you keep

straight along the path through
the
woods
instead
of turning
face
eastward
the
toward
the
of
mountain.
a
After
point
time
you come to
the
bits
where
fallen
lie
of
rock
have
from
the
ledge above and
scattered along the hill-side, like
the
bowlders hurled about
in
the giant warfare of the Titans.
The wood
is
dense and dark
the pines interlacing their arms
above your head throw a perpetual twilight on the

and,
as
hill-side,
you
of
sit
on
fallen
the
soft
carpet
their
leaves,
and
rocks
see
these
huge
fantastic
scattered
around
feel
you,
the
,'*
one cannot
but
that
name
has
is
of
"
Druid Rocks," which

given
to
been
at
the
place,
once suggestive and ap-
propriate.
At
times
the
path
-,,-^tt^
'-'-"
-)/%>
keeps close along the sloping

hill-side,
finding a doubtful
way
Uridge in
Catskill
Clove
beneath the
base
of
tall
cliffs
88
ii;o
witli
covered
moss;
at
others
it
climbs throuo;h some crevice, ami, ascending to the top

full
of the ledge, winils
among
the gray rocks in the

at
last
glare of a summer's sun.
delio-htful
walk brings vou
to
Indian
Head.
it
This name
is
given
to
bold promontory which juts out over the Clove until

bling, tossing
overhangs the bed of the tumfalls
Kauterskill.
Vxorn
this
rock the mountain
eighteen
cliff,
hundred or two
divided
into
thousand
o-roups
feet.
Half a
dozen
tall
j)ines,
growing out
of the
two
on either hand, form a

at this place is very
sort of
dark, rustic frame for the
exquisite picture.
The
Clove
narrow, and, along the bottom, the Kauterskill goes tumbling
and foaming over the

of the glen, winds the
table-land
stones.
little
Along
the base of the

leads
cliff,
on the
at
left
its
or southern
side
road that
falls.
from
the village
mouth up
to
the
beyond the famous
On
both
sides, the
mountains tower high above your

pine,
heads, heavily
wooded
to the
summits with chestnut and

face
through
the
rich
green
of which, here and there,
you can see the rugged
of a
huge
precipice, scarred
and
into
broken by the
frosts,
and spotted with dark lichen and moss.

stage
As we gazed down
it
the Clove a heavily-laden
came lumbering
into view, looking, as

road.
does in
it
Mr.
Fenn's
sketch,
like
mere speck
upon the winding

it
We
watched
rustic
creeping
that
It
along, often half hidden by the trees, until
passed
over the
little
bridge
spans a brawling cataract, and vanished behind the dark
shoulder
of the
mountain.
a
was a
perfect day.
About
the great head of

his
High Peak the clouds had thrown
scarf
of white, the
shadow of which darkened

constantly changing with
mighty shoulders and the gorge beneath.
The
colors were
the
moving
clouds,
and the sunlight played
and danced upon the walls of rock and the

of the Kauterskill
masses of deepest green, while the sound

its
came
floating
up
to us
from
stony bed, where
it
dashed along,
now
sparkling
derful
picture.
in
the sunlight and then plunging over

of this
little
mossy rocks
perfectly
into the shade.
The won-
effect
play of light
and
is
shade
is
shown by the accompanying
The
at
rustic bridge
which
seen in the view from Indian

in the
Head
spans
the
stream
sketch
one of the most striking points

a
Clove.
Of
it
Mr. Fenn has made a

structure,
from
rock just
below
it
in
the
stream.
is
The
about
light
hardly
strong
enough, apparently, to bear the

Kauterskill where
it
heavy stage that
to
cross
it,
hangs over the

in
its
comes tumbling over some huge rocks
that have fallen

a
path.
The water
boils
and tosses into foam, and then dashes headlong down
succession
of
as
ledges beneath.
On
one
side,
the
cliff
towers
high
into
castle.
the
air,
sharp
and smooth
masonry, looking like the walls of a great mediaeval

the South Mountain, densely covered with trees, rise
feet.
On
the other, the spurs

fifteen
of
rapidly
more than
hundred
It is a
most romantic
spot.
As you
stand upon Sunset
Rock and look westward

in
up the Clove, you have one of the most picturesque views

scenery.
the
range of mountain
The rock
is
broad and
flat,
projecting
far
out over the precipice.
An
old pinesit
tree stands, like a sentinel,
upon
its
very verge.
In front of and behind you, as you
by
the
old
tree
on the dizzy edge, the mountain
pushes two great, gray
cliffs,
bald
THE CA rSKlLLS.
and ra^^cd,
,,.
in'
far
and then cut ever the glen,

a
hruken hnes
scarred and
frcn.ng
precipice.
The
lines
of the Snu.l>
I'eaU
M"""'",,,
and
^,
^
,
of
.he
spurs
of
1.
Migh
is
and
R.und
the
Top
that thev meet beneath,
dlffieuk to traee
Kd
Directly in front of you the
ble-land,
ta-
which
of
is
formed by the
mountains,
shoulders
rolls
these
off
toward
the
westward,
where the sharp
lines of
Hunter
defined
its
Mountain
against the
peaks.
are
clearly
sky
among
sister
Over the edge of

leaps
this
Fall.
table-land
Haines's
As
ing,
in the
it
accompanying engravRock,
dark
looks, from Sunset
like
white
spot
in
the
forest
in
glittering
for
an
instant
the sunlight, and then plung-
ing
down
behind
the
waving
tree-tops.
One
of
all
of the
most
beautiful
the
is
sketches
that
made
the
by
Five
Mr.
Fenn
of
Cascades, as they are improperly

called.
stiff
climb from
the
bottom of the Kauterskill Clove
commencing
and
following
that
at
the
point
it
where the carriage-road leaves

the
bed
of
the
stream
comes
down from
over
Haines's,
now clambering
and
fallen
trees,
bowlders
again
and
scrambling
up
the
wet
rocks or clinging to the vine-clad
banks
Five
brought
Cascades.
us at
It
last
to the
was an
en-
chanting spot.
The
stream, after
plunging over the

in
cliff
as shown
Rockrap-
the view from Sunset
like a far-off
feathery vapor into
large shallow pool,
jumps
idly
over a series of ledges from

in
The Five
Cascades,
Kauterskill
Clove.
ten to forty feet
height, that
THE CATSKILLS.
lead like steps
its
133
down
into the Clove.

until, for
Through
the succession
distance,
trees
its
of the path
is
ages
it
has worn
way among the rocks

In
most of the
of the
the
little
hidden from the

in-
sunshine.
many
places
the
branches
on the high banks above are

in
tertwined across the ravine,

ful
down which
twilight.
stream dashes
in
hundreds of beautifalls,
cataracts
in
perpetual
There
three
arc,
truth,
hundreds of these
in
but
five
of
them
are peculiarly striking

sat
and
of these
are represented
the
engrav-
ing.
As we
upon
a fellen tree
and gazed upon the stream, dashing

through
the
its
cold, gray
waters over the black rocks, a shaft of sunlight broke
tree-tops
above our
it
heads and
fell
upon the middle

still
fall.
The change was

the
central
instantaneous.
one, in
Above
bright
and
below, the cataracts were
in
shadow, but
a
the
sunshine,
threw
over
the
glistening
in
rock
myriad of diamonds.
For
it
five
minutes the water

spell
seemed to
and the
rejoice
the
glorious light,
when suddenly
faded the
in
was broken,
little
cataract
went tumbling over the dark rocks
the
gloom
again.
Stony Clove.
The
mous
last
engraving
is
a distant view of
its
Ston\-
Clove a
dark
pass
in
the
mountains
in
fa-
for the wildnessôf
scener}^
It
is
always
and
cool,
and even
fallen
midgreat
August you may

numbers from the
entrance.
find
cliffs
ice
among
the
crevices
of the
as
rocks
that have
in
above.
The sketch was made

about
the
we drove toward
of the
the
northern
A
arc
thunder-storm was gathering

rest
southern gate
pass,
and a
rainbow seemed to
upon the mountains ho\'ering above the Clove.

attractions
Such
few of the
of this
charming region.
Of
course
the
there
are
drives over fine roads
among
the hill-tops, and countless walks

clothes,
through
faces,
forests
and
over the ledges, with the usual results of torn

tites.
sunburnt
and hearty appethe tumult

attractive
To
life,
the
dweller in a city of the plain, weary of

are
work and worn with
of
its
there
few places
in
the
whole range
of
American scenery so
and refreshing
as the Catskill
Mountains.
THE JUNIATA.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY GRANVILLE PERKINS.
Duncannon, Mouth of the Juniata.
A MERICANS
-^
are but too apt to rank their rivers
by their
size,
and ahnost
refuse
at
*
a
to
believe
that
stream
so.
can
a
be
exceedino-lv lovely that

as the present will
does not flow,

2;o
the
this
least,
thousand miles or
Such
work
far
to
remove
way of thinking,
pare
since the scenes depicted of
many
rivers will enal)le the

will
world to comthe
and contrast them
more accurately
and the comparison
assuredly award
palm of loveliness to the smaller streams.
THE JUNIATA.
The Juniata
and though
its
is
'6:s
tril)utary
mountain-trihiitary
of
the
Hir-
famed Sus(iuchanna
at
short
life
begins at a point beyond Clearfield, and ends

fifty
Duncannon
a distance of one hnndred and
miles
yet
a
does
it
present
many
scenes of entrancing
beauty.
It
falls
into the
Susquehanna, about
have
been
of
the
mile from the last-named place, in a site

jjoets'
that deserves certainly to
theme of
is
scmg, and
the
inspirati(jn
of
the
artist's
lie
brush.
The
village
Duncannon
built
at
the base of
rise
numerous
fool-hills
which
crouching beneath the colossal mountain-forms that

feet
to a height of several
thousand
into
the
blue
air.
It is a
curious
fact
that these foot-hills are not
from
Night-Scene on the Juniata, near
Perryville.
the detritus and washing
away of the mountains above
for the
former have
limestone
fertile,
substance, and the latter are of sandstone.
Hence
the foot-hills are not only
but
singularly adapted for raising wheat, and for the cultivation of the vine.
are
The mountains
mostly oaks,
covered
from
base
to
summit with
a lu.xuriant
growth of
forest-trees,
chestnuts, hickories, pecans, and other hard woods.

into the mountain-region
at
As one
its
biitli,
ascends
higher
and
higher
where the Juniata takes

at
])ines
and spruces appear; but

discovering
Duncannon one may look long
the
masses of superb
foliage witiiout
the dark-green leafage and the upright form of a pine.
Ascending one of the
foot-hills,
covered with high, waving corn, the spectator obtains
136
a
noble
view of the
Suslovely
quehanna
tributary.
and
its
first
The
river
is
quite broad here, and pours

a
brown,
a
whelming
flood,
nearly
mile wide, in
of
the
the
direction
Harrisburg,
though
manner
in
which
the
mountains
put
their heads together, as
one
its
looks
course
cal.
backward, renders
entirely
problemati-
Looking opposite from
the
there
Duncannon
lies
foot
- hill,
in
full
outline a
superb mountain, at whose

base
runs
the
Northern
Central
sylvania,
Railway of Penn-
and
the
canal,
which formerly belonged
to
the State, but has since be-
come
the
property of the
road.
Pennsylvania
This
others,
;
mountain,
is
like
the
densely
are
are
wooded
places
but
its
there
sides
where
bare,
and show
mass of
small,
broken rocks,
shale,
approaching
which
would
beauty
forms.
entirely
in
destroy any
these
mountain-
The
kindly mantle
of green foliage which

ture
Nais
has
given them
an
absolute necessit)' as regards

the
a
picturesque,
though, as eye
in
consequence, the
looks
for
vain
Windings of the Juniata, near Perryvillc.
the
sheer
descent
and the
bold, rug-
THE JUNIATA.
ged outlines which make mountain scenery sublime.
has a gentle slope, and one often sees a succession of
into the
air.
i37
Here, on the contrary, every thing
wooded
terraces
mounting upward
arrest
The manner
blue
particles
in
which these enormous masses of tree-coverings
and
detain
the
of air has
are
won
for
them the appellation

Kittatinny.
of
Blue
Mountains,
rises
though geographically they

another of
still
known
as the
Beyond
is
this
mountain
up
the
this
grander majesty; and just
between them
the bridge over which
teams of the canal-boats cross from the Susquehanna to accompany the Juniata.
point, therefore, the
At
waters
meet.
The mouth
of the
Juniata
is
not
very broad, and

but her stream
is
seems quite narrow when compared with the flood of her big
sister;
much
deeper, and her waters of a
deej)
it
blue.
The
poets of the
locality love to write
about the blue Juniata, and speak of
as
the
gently-gliding stream.
hill
In summer-time,
no doubt,
this
name
is
appropriate
but from the
of observation
is
above
Duncannon
that
one can see the remains of four stone piers

the Juniata
piles
at
all
that
left
of the
bridge
spanned
ice
this
point.
Regularly every spring, when
the
snows melt and the

if
up
in
masses, the
into the
big,
Juniata
sweeps away her bridges as
they were feathers, and
comes rushing
the
color
Susquehanna with
a wealth of blue water that materially
changes
of the
brown
stream.
At Harrisburg
waters
way.
all
they know, by the color of the

the
stream
that
rushes
past,
when
the
come from
There
is
Juniata;
and
they
mutter
about lively times

left
down Huntingdon
a broad, bold curve of land

obser\'ation
;
on the
bank of the Juniata, which hides
but
its
mouth from
but the Suslike a lake

in
quehanna can be seen wandering among the

various places.
foot-hills,
and swelling out
Followinff the bank of the blue Juniata, side bv side with the
canal,
one
is
for
few miles,
at in
first,
in
a level country.
rise
The stream
at
is
not broad, but tolerably deep, and

that hover over the
abounding
face.
fish,
which
every
moment
the
the
is
flies
placid
sur-
Between here and
Perryville
river
full
of beautiful islands, covered with hide the
trees
whose branches sweep down
to the
ground and often
bank.
With
the
branches are
interlaced wild-vines, with

daisy,
huge leaves; and between them the golden-rod,

fern,
and the big yellow

parts
and the large-leaved

are
make
their appearance.
In
the
low
of
these
a
islands
there
in
beautiful
mosses,
and a species of water-grass which

of these islands are quite large, com-
becomes
deep orange
circular patches.
Some
paratively speaking;
and one can spy, through the crossed and entangled branches, the
dresses,
glimmer of white
and
the
glancing of
fair
faces,
belonging
their
to
picnicking
party, or perhaps to folks
going a-berrying, who, having
filled
baskets, have
been
romantic enough to eat their lunch on the Moss Islands.
Approaching
country vanishes.
Perr>^ville, the
foot-hills disappear,
and the bright glimpse of champaign
The mountains
They
are
arc
once more
upon
us,
looming up into the
clear
is
sky like giants.
on both
sides,
and
in
front likewise.
On
the
the
right
crest,
there
one huge,
solid wall, with
hardly an
irregularity
or
break
along
which
is
i^,S
Moss
Islands,
in
the
Juniata.
Straight as a piece of masonry.
On
to
the
left
the mountains are stnmo; along like a chain
of gigantic
agates.
Each seems
tall
he
triangular,
and between each
is
a ravine,
in
where
there,
there are not only
trees,
but also fine slopes of high grass.

;
There are deer

live
and there are black bears on the summit
but, to see them,
one must
on
farm on
THE JUNIATA.
the mountain-side, and he one of the sons of
tiie
i39
mountain.
far
The
fcrcc
natura do not
slopes
love
sides,
the
scream
of the
steam-whistle, and
sec,
abide
away on the
lon<r
of the
which we do not
for
we
are
now
skirtins: the
bases of their
far
triangular fronts.
Nine-tenths of those
tend
;
who
is
pass
them never dream how

difficult
back
in
these
his
mountains exhead the multi-
and, indeed,
it
somewhat
for
any one to keep
form appearances of the same mountain as viewed from various
sides.
At
night-time,
when
there
is
a full
;
moon, the
river near
Perryville
is
exceedingly grand
;
the
solemn
stillness
of the hour
the lapping sound of the gentle water
the whisper of the wind
among
the trees, that seems

leaf,
more
like
the falling of a distant cascade than the rustling
of leaf on
the
and the chafing of bough against bough.
When
or
the
wind
rises,
then
is
voices
of the
mountain speak
and a storm of groans,

threats,
shrieks,
and mutterings,
high, arc
loosened.
Voices of command, of entreaty,

air
;
muffled
rising
borne
upon the
and
it
seems
as
if
the
murky
night were being peo])lcd with an invisible
creation, with voices that
were formless, but had souls that
spoke through the endless
modulations of sound.
But
if
the approach to Perryville be most

line of
beautiful
by night,
it
is
not so beyond.
For the great wall sinks behind a
detached mountains here which come sloping
down
to the river in long capes and promontories, covered
by a profusion of many-hued
bold
fronts,
foliage.
On
the
left
bank, the mountains
still
show
their
and the
stream,
other,
forced around the
capes on the
one
side,
has
worn
similar
indentations
on the
presenting a most beautiful appearance.

is
The most
picturesque part of this lovely region

it
after
we
pass the
little
village of
is
Mexico; and
may
l)e
noted here that the nomeni)retty
clature of the
whole place
ridiculous
beyond comparison, the
names being
It
all
cribbed from Ireland, and the others having no meaning or relationship whatever.
difficult to
is
say whether
is
the
river
if
is
finer
looking
forward
or
looking
back.
Perhaps
looking forward
called Slip
the best,
one can leave out of the perspective a wretched mountain

deprived
Hill, which,
having been
by the wood-cutters of
its
forest-mantle,
has ever since taken to rolling stones

lorn appearance.
scales,
o-lidino-
down
its
great slope, and presents a hideously forfiat
It is
covered from apex to base with a mass of small,

is
stones, like
and about every half-hour there

into the river.
movement, and
small, the
miniature
land-slip
goes
As
the stones are
(luite
river
sends
them
along, but
If
they have materially changed the bed in places, and

this
made
the stream
([uite
shallow.
It
unfortunate bit can be hidden, the view

hills are
is
the perfection of the picturesque.

that.
does
not amount to sublimity, for the
not bold enough for
But the curves of
the stream are so graceful, and the slopes of the mountains covered with green so grand,
that the
imaginadon
is
charmed and the
feelings
softened.
is
The next
point along the line of the Juniata
one where the

sides, that
river
sinks
into
very subordinate position, indeed.

amiable, suddenly break
off,
The
hills
on
both
have
hitherto
been
so
and the great wall comes into view on the right hand, while
14
Narrows near Levvistown.
on the
left
we
get the side of a mountain mstead of
its
front.
On
this
both banks the
hills
are remarkably steep,
and they approach so closely together
as to confine the little river
within extremely narrow bounds.
For seven miles and
half
imprisonment
bases
are
lasts
and here, perhaps, the mountains show their grandest forms.
The
often
crag-
THE J UNIA TA.

like,
141
showing huge masses of stone
that
seem
to
hang on
to the
side without
any, defiin
nite support,
and threaten momentarily to come down upon
one's head.
The summits
a few instances have castellated forms,
and beguile the e\e with
momentary impressions
ihc breeze
like a
is
of battlements, from which the wild-cherry or the vine llings itself to
banner.
Unfortunately, these spots are
rare,
but the general
character
of the
here,
scenery
much
bolder than in other places.

the
It is
astonishing
how
the mist
clings
and how
in
resolutely
sun
is
combated.
The
brigiit
luminary
has
to
be
quite
high
the
The Forks
of the Juniata, near
Huntingdon.
heavens before his rays can surmount the harriers which Nature has
sunlight.
hills
planted against
the
Slowly the masses of white mist
rise like
smoke, clinging to the sides of the

to the surface of
in great strata.
When
there
the sun reaches

are
down
the river, the mists
have disappeared, but
tiny spirals, like wreaths
of smoke, wliith
clear,
dance
upon
the water, and remain for
many
minutes.
At
sail
length
all
is
and the blue firmament

sun
smiles
down upon
us,
the golden clouds
over
us,
and
the
beams
beneficently
tiie
down.
In the twinkling of an eye the mists have marshalled their hosts, and
whole
u
Q
E
m u X H s a
a.
<:
w z c
THE JUNIATA,
scene
i43
sky,-
mountains, and
river
is
blotted
out.
Tiicn
the
battle
has
to
be fought
to
again.
Once more
the sunbeams triumph, and the beaten vapor clings for
protection
the sides of the
hills,
and the maids of the mist dance upon the

is
waters.
But
all
is
not
yet over, and the contest often
waged
into
until
far
in
the
day,
when
the
sim's
trium])h
is
becomes
lasting.
As
the
entrance
the
Narrows was sudden, so the

looking
exit
abrupt.
One wanders along

dering
thp tow-path of the canal
up
at
the
mountains, and wonlike
how much
nearer they intend to

in
come, and whether they are going to act

utterly,
in
\\\\<t\\,
the iron shroud,
and close
and we
and crush us
ourselves
in
presto ! the Juniata makes a bold

witii
fling to the right,
find
Lewistown,
front.
is
the
mountains behind us
and n pleasant valley smiling welcome
our
Between Lewistown and Huntingdon the scenery

scribe
it
extremely beautiful
to
but to dethe
river
would be simply
repetition
of the
phrases applied
Perry vi lie, where
curves of the river are so lovely.
But the mountains
are decidedly bolder,
and the
becomes
wilder,
and curves
in
such a multitudinous fashion as to
make
frequent bridging
absolutely necessary.
that,
One
of the chief charms of this route

there are
may perhaps
a
be
in the fact
on the right-hand
side,
two ranges
one
always like
Titanic wall, the
other a broken line of skirmishers.

tain-region, the pines begin to
As one
advances higher and higher into the
mouna
show on the
sides of the great cones of sandstone like
shaggy
the
fringe,
retire,
and the masses of rock are larger and more picturesque. and leave
a pleasant level.
At Huntingdon
larger
hills
Here
the
Juniata
forks, the
but
less
picturesque fork striking southward toward Hollidaysburg, and the smaller branch,
as the Little Juniata, goiiig west in the direction of Tyrone.
known
Penn-
The
canal
and the
sylvania Railroad, which hitherto have faithfully run side by side along the Juniata, separate also, the canal going with the big branch
now
one.
and
the
railway with
the
little
In consequence of this separation there are looks

quite
many
bridges at Huntingdon, and

its
the
place
picturesque with
its
background of mountains and

river,
wandering streams.
But henceforth the Juniata ceases to be a

and nothino- more.
blue
color, because
both
branches
Little
being just trout-streams,

loses
its
And, what
it
is
still
more
a
cruel, the
Juniata
the
beautiful
persist
in
flows
through
mining-region,
and
miners
will
washing
their ore in its clear wave.
After
we
leave
Huntingdon we
are
in
the
it
mountains
has
to
altogether.
Various creeks
join the Little Jimiata, which winds

miles.
so
that
be
bridged every three or four

left,
At
the junction of
Spruce Creek, the mountains on the
which have been

in
shouldering us for some time back, suddenly hurl a
huge
barrier
over our path
the
high.
left
shape of Tussey's Mountain
a
is
great
in
turtle-backed
at the
monster, several
thousand
is
feet
The
wall on the
rio-ht
hand closes
same
time, so that there
no resource
seven
miles
but a tunnel, which, however,
not a very long one.
We
are
now
from
lie
Tyrone, the centre of the mountains, and the pines are quite thick.
at the
The
hills
that
base of the mountains
show pleasant farm-houses and
deejj-green-leaved com.
The
SINKING RUN, ABOVE TYRONE.
THE JUNIATA.
mountains show us now
at
145
their fronts
and now their
bases, but are
never out of sight, and

cleft
intervals
come
right uj) to us.
At Tyrone they kxjk
as
if
they had been

in
;
asunder,
for there is a great
gap cut between two mountains.

was not so
difficult
This
it
times
fcjr
past
was doubtless
the
work of
the J uniata, and
as
looks
the
shaly mountains
its
are very different
from
the
firm
limestone, through
which
the
Kanata cuts
way
at
Trenton
Falls.
On
in
the right hand, however, the hard sandstone shows for a considerable
all
space, and
affords
built
the
quite
stone
a
of which
tiie
bridges
in
the
neighborhood arc
for
built.
Tyrone
distance
is
considerable
to
valley.
The mountains open out

i^nit
some
to
the
eastward
of
and
the
westward.
river
in
north
olden
of
and south they hang on

times
with
to
a
the
persistence
here,
bull-dogs.
The
the
must have swelled

that
stretch
lake
and cut
aided
the
gap through
the
line
mountains
north
and south,
being
by countless creeks and nameless streams.

in
Bald-Eagle
is
Creek
joins the river here, and, in spring-time, the plain
front
of the
in
is
gap
one stretch of
Bald-
water.
The town
Creek,
the
is
built
away from the

being
it
Juniata, and
rises
terraces
along the
a
Eagle
foot-hills
highly cultivated.
all
There
quite
wealth
of pine
on these mountains, though

cut
is
second growth, every hard-wood tree having
been
down
it
to
supply charcoal
for
the
Tyrone
forges,
which originated the

is
city,
though
now
is
a centre for the

;
mountain
railroads. for
The scenery around

the
decidedly Alpine
in character
and some of the roads made
lumber business traverse regions of

in these
savage beauty.
is
Thunder-storms are of daily occurrence up
heights,
and luckless
it
the stranger wight

will
who
trusts to his umbrella

its
for
the winds will

to
turn
inside
out,
and
propel
it
forward, dragging
reluctant
owner
it
the
brink
of precipices, and,
after giving
brellaless,
him
chills
of terror, will at length drag
from
his grasp,
and leave him umis,
exposed to the pelting storm.

last
The
is
curious thing about these storms
that
one
does
not
five
minutes, and the sun

for.
out and drying one's habiliments long before
such a thino- could be hoped

that
But the clouds whirl about the mountains so furiously

several
one
is
sure
to
be
caught
times,
and the writer was wetted to the skin

Hill, a
three distinct times
when descending Sinking-Run

presented by the
starts
artist
is
mountain about
an
oUl
six miles
from
Tyrone.
for
The view
travel,
taken from
road
now
discontinued
lumber
which
from the side of the mountain, about half-way up, and deof
the
scends circuitously to
the
l)ase
opposite
is
mountain.
Wild-cherries
and whortleoc-
berries ijrow in abundance,
and the route
shaded by pines and hickories, while an
casional spruce-tree adds variety to the foliage.

drink,
The waters
spring
of the run
the
if
are
agreeable
to
though impregnated by sand.
In
the
is
of the year
mountains are one

is
blaze of
rhododendron blossoms.
;
Then
the time to visit
them
one
not afraid of
trickle
wet
feet
for
the waters are then out in every direction
and tiny runs
of water
across the road everywhere.
ON THE OHIO.
WITH ILLUSTKA llnNS HV
Al.FKKI) K.
WAUD.
The Ohio, below
Pittsburg.
O-HE-YO
their
is
Wyandot
down
word, signifying "Fair to
look
upon."
The
early
French
it
explorers, floating
the river's gentle tide, adopted the name, translating
into
own tongue
as la Belle Riviere,
and the English, who here

of the
as elsewhere
throughout
its
the West, stepped into the
possessions
French, took
the
word and
spelling,
but gave
It
is
it
their
own
pronunciation, so that, instead of O-he-yo,

stream, flowing
we now have
It
the Ohio.
lovely, gentle
on between
the
North and South.

mills
does not
bustle
and rush along over rocks and

its
it
down
rapids, turning
and
factories
on
its
way, and hurrying

rivers;
boats
up and down,
all
after
the
manner of busy, anxious Northern

allow the
less
neither does
go to sleep
along shore and
forest
it
flotsam
to
clog
its
up
its
channel, like the Southern streams.

its
But none the
has
character of
own, which makes
gentle
impression,
day by day, like a quiet, sweet-voiced woman,
who moves through

ful
life
with more power at her gentle

her.
command
than the iikmc beauti-
and more
brilliant
around
No
river in the
world has such
length of uniform smooth current.
In and out
it
ON THE
meanders
for
OHIO.
147
one
;
tliousand
is
and seven miles

in
it
never
hurry
it
never
seems
to
be going anywhere in parbut has time to loiter
ticular,
about
iron
to
among
the
coal
and
mines of Pennsylvania
around
the
ripple
moun;
tains
of
West
Virginia
in
to
make deep
bends
order
riv-
to take in the
ers,
Southern
knowing
well that thrifty
Ohio, with her cornfields and

villages,
will
fill
up
all
the
angles
then
it
curves
up
northward toward Cincinnati,

as
if
to leave
for the
broad
landblue-
sweep
grass
beautiful
meadows
North
on
of
Kentucky
it
and
at
Bend away
glides again
a long southS
western
stretch,
down, down,
along the southern borders of

Indiana and
Illinois, last
and
to
after
re-
making
ceive
curve
the
twin-rivers
the
long,
Cumberland
and
the
mountain-born Tennessee
it
mixes
its
waters
with
the
Mississippi,
one
thousand
miles above the ocean.
The
from
rivers ers can
rent,
Ohio
is
formed
of
the
as
junction
unlike
:
two
riv-
as
two
be
the northern pa-
named Alleghany, which

"
signifies
clear
water,"
is
quick,
transparent
stream,
coming
down
directly
from
I4S
pre Ti Ki-souE A^rERli \i.
the north;
while the southern paient,
named
-
Monongahela,
banks,"
which
signifies
"
Falling
in
comes even moie

its
dnectl)
fiom the
south
the
slow, yellow
tide
augmented
bv
waters
of
the
Youghiogheny
is
name
all
whose pronunciation
mysterious to
of
but
the initiated, a shibboleth

sylvania.
Western Pennunlike in their
These two
their
rivers, so
sources,
natures,
and
from
the
people
point
along
to
their
its
banks,
unite
at
Pittsburg,
itself
form-
ing
five
the
Ohio,
which
crosses
that
mouth
its
receives
into
seventyislands.
in
tributaries,
hills
seven
are
States,
and
holds in
embrace
one
hundred
;
The
along the
rise
Ohio
high,
round-topped, and covered with verdure
some
places
they
lie
abruptly
the
a
from the
river,
water
a
five
hundred
of
ideal
feet
in
height,
and, in
others,
they
back
from
is
leaving
of
jjlenty
strip
bottom-land
fat
between,
whose even,
-
green
expanse
picture
the
the
fields
which
the
New
hills
England
abrupt
farmer can see only in his
dreams.
the
as
On
the
southern
forest
side,
when
in
all
are
and there
is
no
bottom-land,
original
first
remains
its
denseness,
and
in
we
see the river
and
its
shore
explorers saw
in
them, when, gliding down

the
vivid
canoes
almost
two centuries ago, they gave,
their
enthusiasm,
is
name
and
is
of Bc/Zc
Rivihre, which the Indians had given long before.
The verdure
full
luxuriant
the foliage;
the round tops of the swelling hills are like green velvet, so
and even
ON THE
and when, here and
there, a
OHIO.
itself
H9
river-side,
it
rocky ledge shows
on the steep
Ijlue
is
veiled
with vines and tufts of bright llowers, the red-bud and

so close to the rock that
it
blossoms growing in patches
looks as
tangled
if
it
were
lapis-lazuli.
The
river
constantly curves
and bends, knotted
like
silver
thread
over the green
country.
Every turn
shows
south
;
new view: now
a vista of
interval
on the north; now a wooded gorge on the

rift
now
a wall of hills in
its
front, with
scarcely a
between
and now,
as the stream
doubles upon
track, the
is
same
hills astern,
with sloping valley-meadows separating their

as
wooded
sides.
There
no long look ahead,
on the
St.
Hudsonno
;
clear understanding
of the points of the compass, as
on the broad
is
Lawrence
the flag-staff at
it
the
bow
veers constantly
the boat's
course
north, south, east, or west, as
happens, and the

stopping, so that,
perplexity
is
increased by a
way they have

day with
a
of heading up-stream
clear
when
is
although you
may
begin
the
idea
which side
\îrginia
its
and which
first
Ohio, by the time the boat has finished the chassis, and turns necessarily to
stop
and reached the bank, you have

wildered
lost
your bearings
entirely,
all
and must either join the bethe
but persistent inquirers
who
besiege the captain
way from Pittsburg

side
it
to
Louisville with the quesrion,
"Which
side is Ohio, captain,
and which
Kentucky.?"
changes, float
or else,
abandoning knowledge altogether, and, admiring the scenery

care,
as
on without a geographical
praterea
nihil.
knowing
is
that
you
will reach
Louisville
some
time, et
For exercise there
always the carrying of chairs from one side of the
awning; boat to the other, as the frequent turns bring the afternoon sunbeams under the
you ma\- walk

in
several miles in this
way each
are
day.
It
is
charming way of travelling

and
fresh vdth
hulls, like
the
early spring,
when
the
shores
bright with
blossoms
slight,
verdure.
The
river-steamers, with
afloat,
their wheels
astern
and
tlieir
open
summer-
houses
go slowly up and down, and whistle
to each other for the channel, accord-
ing to their load.

other,
The crews
them
lying
are motley, black
and white, and, as the boats pass each

idle
you can
see
on the lower deck,
and contented, while the
jolly
birds sings, by inlaugh of the negro echoes out almost constantly, for he laughs, as the northern shore of the Upper Ohio, the railroad to Pittsburg is seen;
stinct.
On
the
the lono- trains of vcllow cars rush bv, their

side over the water, as
if
shrill
whistles
coming from the steep
hill-
remonstrating with the boats for their lazy progress. way.
In truth,
signals,
the boats do their
work
in
in a leisurely
man
appears
on
the
bank and
begins
his
but even he
is
not
a hurry, finding a comfortable seat
before
he
waving;
the side to inspect the then the captain confers with the mate, the deck-hands gather on boat will not stop, and look forward toward all so slowlv that you feel sure the
man, and
the next bend.
But the engine pauses, the steamer veers slowly round, runs
plank, and
its
head into
to bring
the bank; out comes the
out
come
the motley crew,
who proceed
while on board earthenware, lumber, or whatever the waving man has ready for them, To eyes accusfans himself with his straw hat. he, still seated, watches the work, and
tomed
to the ocean, or the deep
lakes
and
rivers
of the
North, with
their
long
piers.
I50
solid docks,
and steamers drawino- many
feet
of water, this
landino- witli
call
tlie
ease
of a
row-boat
is
new and
is
strange.
The
large
towns have what they
levee pronounced
;
levy\\\(\c\\
nothing more than a rough stone pavement over the sloping bank
but
freight, have the villages off the railroads, where the steamers generally stop for
nothing
but an old llat-boat moored on the shore;

large,
is
and many of them have not even
this.
The
i)lank
handsome,
well-filled
steamboats run right up into the bank, so that even

all
hardly necessary for landing, and
you have
to
do
is
to
feet
take
your bag and step

their
ashore.
The
steamers, large
tlie
as
they
tloat
are,
draw but a few
of water;
there
are
bulk
is
above, not below,
tide;
they
along like a plank; and
no waves
to
dash over, their low, open decks.

channel,
this
off.
If
they run aground, as they often do in the varying
down comes
a great beam, fastened with tackle like a derrick,

is
on the bow, and,
having been pushed into the river-bottom, the engine

If there
all
is
started,
ties
and the boat pried
a fog at
night as
sleep,
there often
is
is the
if
captain
up
his
boat
to
the
bank, and
this
hands go to
which
to
safe
not
brilliant
course
in
to
pursue.
;
In but
way
the voyage from
Pittsburg
Cincinnati
becomes uncertain
duration
wherefore
huny when
the
Ohio
farms, the Virginia mountains,
and the Kentucky mead-
ows, are radiant with the beauty of spring?
The mouth
of the
Ohio River was

its
first
discovered in 1680, but
its
course was not
explored until seventy years afterward,
long valley having remained an

as well as
in
unknown
land
when
the
the
Mississippi
of the
and the Red River of the South,
Lake Superior and

maps.
In 1750 the
the Beautiful
tributaries
as
Red River
North, had been explored and delineated

first
French penetrated into the Ohio wilderness, the

River.
white navigators of
Mississippi
They claimed
the basins of the lakes and the
and
its
New
their
Canada to France, and began a line of forts stretching from their settlements in
settlements in
Louisiana.
The head-waters
a
of the
Ohio, at the junction

in this
of the
internal
Alleghany and Monongahela, was

navigation,
commanding
a
point
great chain of
for
and, at
an
early
date,
became
bone of contention,
the
British
were
pushed their dominion on towjealously watching every advance of their rivals as they
ard
the
south.
In
1750 Captain Celeron, a French
officer,
was sent from Canada
to
take
possession
of the
Ohio-River Valley;
this
ceremony he performed by depositing

all
leaden plates along the shore, and then returned, satisfied that
these talismans have been discovered in
was
is
well.
Three of
modern
times.
The
following
a translation of
one of the inscriptions
"
In the year 1750, we, Celeron, commandant of a detachment by

Gallisoniere, commander-in-chief of
villages
Monsieur the Marquis of

tranquillity
in
New
France, to establish
plate
certain
Indian
of these cantons, have
buried this
on the
of said
Beautiful River as a
river
monument
and of
of renewal of possession which

all
it
we have taken
as the
and
its
tributaries,
the
land on
both sides
it
inasmuch
preceding
kings of France have engaged

cially
and maintained
by their arms and by
treaties, espe-
by those of Ryswick, Utrecht, and Aix-la-Chapelle."
ON THE
OHIO.
153
the
wilderness,
Pontiac's
conspir-
acy burst upon
the countr\',
its
and
of
Fort
Pitt,
with
handful
men, was closelv invested bv the

Indians,
who
nine
the
had
of
succeeded
the
in
capturing
forts
British
-*ft^.-
in
west,
Detroit
and
Bouquet, a Swiss
officer,
Niagara alone
escaping.
Colonel
whose flowery name bright-
ens the sombre pages of Ohio-River history, as his deeds brightened the sombre reality,
came
to the rescue of Fort Pitt, supplied the garrison with provisions, and dispersed the
Indians.
Soon
after this the
French gave up their claim
to the territor}^
and then began

far
the contest between the Americans and the British.

in a wilderness
But the river-countrv was

General
Pitt,
away
beyond the mountains; and

forces,
in
1772
Gage, the
commander-inpost,
chief
of
the
British
sent orders to
abandon Fort
and accordingly the
which had cost the English Government sixty thousand pounds, and which was designed
to secure forever British
empire on
the Beautiful
River, passed into
the
hands of the
Americans.
The
present citv of Pittsburg has the picturesque aspect of a volcano,

;
owing
is
to
its
numerous manufactories
by the glow and
flash
cloud of
smoke
rests
its
over
it,
and
at
night
it
illuminated
its
of the iron-mills filling
valley
and stretching up
hill-sides_
restmg not day or night, but ever ceaselessly gleaming, smoking, and roaring.
Looking
its
down on
red
fires
Pittsburg at night from the summit of
its
surrounding
are,
hills,
the city, with

;
and smoke, seems
satanic.
91
Quiet streets there
and pleasant residences
the
'54
two
rivers
winding down
on
either side, and unitinsr at the
point
of
the
peninsula,
tin-
the
graceful
craft
bridges,
all
waterat
of
kinds
lying
the levee,
far
some coming from

Orleans, and
the
slack
-
New
others
hound
into the
up
water
interior, are all pict-
uresque.
But
fires
it
is
the
smoke
and the
give
tive
it
of Pittsburg that
its
character.
Imaginait
people, beholding
by
nioht, are
moved
to sulphur-
ous
quotations,
and
iiethink
"
themselves
of
Dante's
In-
ferno;" and, as
of
'
Mr. Brooke,
say,
Middlemarch, would
that sort of thing."
Anthonv Trollope
wrote,
I
It
is
the
blackest
its
place
ever saw, but

ness
said,
lid
is
ver\'
black-
picturesque."
is
Parton
with
the the
face
"It
all
hell
taken
oft."
In
of the
facts
to
the contrary,
you fancy
that Pittsburg
cit\"
;
must
be a wicked
and, as the
boat glides away, verses

to
come
"
vour
memory
about
the
smoke
inor
of her torment ascend-
forever and ever."

lurid
What
Tur-
grand,
picture
art-god,
ner,
Ruskin's
would
by
have
night
!
made
of
Pittsburg
The
in
river
starts
away
northwestern
its
direction.
On
banks, nineteen miles
ox THE
gularly magîanimous to
all
OHIO.
last
157
years of
white prisoners.
The
Logan were
loiaely.
He
wandered from
tribe to tribe, 3ind
was
finally
murdered by one of his ovra race cm the

a camp-fire, with his blanket over his head.
banks of the Detroit River, as he

buried in thoughL
sat before live after
But
his
words
him.
Lcân's q>eecfa
still
holds
its
place in
the school reading-books by the side of the best efforts of English orators.
The
river, as
is
it
stretches
southward,
fiill
is
here
fair
enoug^h to
justifi* its
nam&
its
The
moun-
Virginia shore
tain-roads
wild and romantic,

a
of associations of the late war.
when
were
raiding-ground, and
that
in
its
campaigns a
series
of cavalry-chases, without
those
bloody combats
either
side
darkened the States farther south.

\'irginia, if glor\-
There was not much

;
glory for
Western
means death
but there were
many
bold rides and
many long
dashes over the border and back again, as the dwellers in the
little
rambling old river farm-houses, with their odd
enclosed up|)er piazzas, know.

its
At
westat
Wheeling the national

ward way.
Cumberland,
road, a
relic
of stag:e-coach days, crosses the river on
This turnpike was

in
constructed
by the national government, beginning
Marvland, crossing the mountains, and intended to run indefinitely on

settled.
westward as the country- became

casional traveller
But
railroads
took away
its
glory,
and the ocits
now
finds
it
difficult
to get an explanation of this neglected work,
laborious construction and solid stone bridges striking
him
as he passes through Central
Ohio, although the careless inhabitants neither
know nor
the oldest
care
about
its
origin.
In
the
Old World
it
would pass
as a
Roman
road.
is
Marietta, in
Washington County, Ohio,
town
in the
State.
It is situ-
ated in the domains of the

ized to
New-England
"
Ohio Company," which was

river.
originally organ-
check the advance of the French down the
Marietta has a picturesque

^rith a slender,
position, Iving in a
deep bend where the Muskingum flows into the Ohio,
cur\-ed island opposite, like a green crescent, and, beyond, the high, rolling hills
of Vir-
ginia
on the
southern
shore.
river;
The Ohio Company owned one

and, in
million
five
hundred
thousand acres along the
November, 1787. they sent out
their first colony,
forty-seven men, who, taking

tains,
Braddock's road, originally an Indian

all
trail
over the moun"
and trudging on patiently

called
it.
winter, arrived
a
at
the Voughiogheny. or
Voh." as
thev
in
April, and, launching

a
flat-boat, sailed
it
down
to
the
mouth of the
Muskingum, where they made

Antoinette.
flower;
tree.
settlement naming
;
Marietta, in
honor of Marie
called the
nail
These pioneers were New-Englanders

their
first
their flat-boat
set
was
Maya
and
act
on landing was,
"
to write a
in
of laws and
settled
them to
Washington
said
of them,
No
colony
America was
under such favorFort
able auspices as that
on the Muskingirni."
A
It
little
stockade-post, called
Harmar,
had been
built
here
two years
before.
in
was occupied by a detachment of United
States troops,
who
did
good
sen-ice
protecting the infant colony firom the Indians,
and then moved on toward Cincinnati

poor Jo, "moving
on."
Emigrants,
soldiers,
and Indians,
.are
alwavs, like
The
littie
village
on the bank of the
Muskingum
bears
the
158
ilu'
n.imc of
fication
old post, Harmar.
At Marietta were
eartii
touiul the
liiyh,
remains of an ancient
wilii
forti-
a square, enclosed
by a wall of
to
ten feet
twelve entrances, con-
taining a co\ert wa\% bulwarks

construction,
defend the gate-ways, and various works of elaborate

feet
including
moat
fifteen
tlie
wide,
defended
by
this
parapet.
These
are
supposed to belong to the era of

ship-building
mound-builders.
At
little
inland
settlement
was
at
one period the principal occupation, and the town was made a port
is
of clearance.
There
curious incident connected witii
this.
In
1806 a ship, built
at
Marietta, sailed to
New
Orleans with a cargo of pork

for
and, as at that time the iVmeri-
can vessels were

thence to
that
its
the
carriers
the
world,
it
went on to
port
England with cotton, and

the
as
little
St.
Petersburg, where the officer of the
seized
ship, declaring
papers were fraudulent, since there was
no such seaport
Marietta.
But the
Mississippi,
officer,
captain, with
some
difficulty
procuring a map, pointed out the mouth of the
and traced
its
course up to the Ohio, and thence on to Marietta.

in the
free.
The
astonished
when
little
this seaport
heart of a continent wâs
shown
is
to him, allowed the adventurous
vessel to
go
Thirteen miles below Marietta
Parkersburg, in
;
West
in
Virginia
the
river,
the
old
Belpre,
or
Beautiful
Meadow,
gone
in
Ohio, opposite
and near by,

Burr.
is
Blennerhassett's Island, which has
into history with
Aaron
At Parkersburg
the Little
Kanawha
flows
into
the
Ohio, which
here crossed
is
by
the massive iron bridge of the Baltimore
and Ohio
a
village
Railroad.
Farther on
Gallipolis,
where,
in
1790,
French colony
laid
out
of eighty cabins,
a
protected
by a
stockade, and, even in the

there twice a week.
face of starvation,
took time to build
ballroom, and danced
Anxious
by
to get awây from
the horrors of the Revolution, ignorant

these
in
of
the
country,
deceived
land-speculators,
poor
all,
Frenchmen
carvers,
laborers
gilders,
coach-
and
peruke-makers,
all
five
hundred
persons
for
with
only ten
among
them
sold
they had, and
embarked
the
New
World, believing that a paradise
was ready
for
them on the banks of the

;
beautiful
river.
They named
their village the a will,
City of the French

if
and, unfitted as they were for frontier-life, they
worked with
not with
skill.
Early accounts give a ludicrous picture of their attempts to clear the

of
land.
at
number
them would assemble around some giant sycamore

part
part
would
until
pull
the
branches with ropes; and

chips,
would hack
tree
at
at
the
trunk
to
it
all
around
;
the
ground was covered with
and the
gashed from top

last
bottom
a whole day
would be spent
it
in
the
task, and,
when
the
tree
fell,
generally carried with
some of
its
awkward
executioners.
To
get rid of a
it
fallen
in
tree
they would
it
make
deep trench alongside, and, with many a shout, push

certainly a novel
and
to
bury
out
of sight
origin
method
of clearing land.
Little
is
now
left
show the French
of Gallipolis save a few French names.
At
stream
the
is
mouth
of the Great
river
Kanawha, on the
\"irginia side,
rising
in
is
Point Pleasant.
This
the
principal
of
West
Virginia,
the
mountains and winding

the
site
through
a picturesque
country northward to the Ohio.
Point
Pleasant was
of
ON THE
a bold
hill,
OHIO.
itself,
i6i
and few grain-fields; the trees are majestic, each one by

or a river conies sweeping over a
and here and there stands

It
is
linieslone-bed.
the
grazing-country
is
of America;
tion that
the wealth of
its
people
is
in
their tlocks
and herds; and there

(let
lies
a tradi-
they love their horses
better- tiian
their
sweethearts
us
rescue
that
last
sweet old word from misuse).
Some
miles
back from the
river
the
lamous
This
for
Bluedis-
Grass Country, so called from the blue tinge of the grass when
trict
in
blossom.
ride
embraces
jiark
live
counties, the
loveliest
in
"Kentucky, where
you may
tliere
miles
through a
dotted with herds, single

I'ntil
trees,
and
here
and
grin'e
shadowing
the rolling, green turf
1747 no Anglo-Saxon foot
had touclud
Kentucky, whose
-^
l'\
'J'?
^mii'î
riio
Riiine."
forests
were
the
Indians'
favorite
lumting-ground
Daniel
the
immigration, when
is
it
did
com-
mence, came from A'irginia and Maryland.

hunter.
Hoone
the type
to
to
of the
Kentuckv
Leaving North Carolina

three
in
1769, he
came westward
returned
examine the new huntbring

his
ing-fields, and, after
years
of wandering, he
is
family to
his
the
wild
home
he
had chosen.
The country
full
of legends
restless
of
Boone, and
name
lino-ers
on rocks and streams.
The
old
man became
under the growing
civiliza-
tion,
and went to Missouri, where he could hum undisturbed.

1820, at the age of eighty-nine.
:
He
died,
almost with gun
in hand, in
prophet
is
not always without
honor
in
his
own
countr)'-
the
people
S3
of
Kentucky brought back the body of the old
hunter,
l62
PIC TURESO UE
inlcncil
it
A ME RICA,
in
anil
on the hanks of the
lixci
he lovcil
hfc
-in
Kani-tuck-ce, the
"
Land
of
the Cane."
Cincinnati, the
Queen
of the \Vest, was
first
settled in
1778.
It
lies
in
Symmes's
Purchase
land
stretehiny between the Great
and
Little
Miami, called
in
early descrip-
tions the
Miami Counlrv.
Judge Symmes's nejihew and

Spheres," a theory
his
namesake was the author of

rendered
as
the theory of "Concentric
popularly
is
"Symmes's Hole."
a
He
was buried on the Purchase, and

thcor}-, at the
monument
surmounted by
globe, open, ac-
cording to his
received
its
poles.
Cincinnati
too
St.
generally pronounced
Cincinnatcr
high-sounding
name from General
Clair, in
honor of
a military society to
View on
the
Rhine.
which he belonged.
then
laboring under
flows
into
The
the
general rescued the infant town from a worse

title
fate,
since
it
was
of Losantiville
the
Z,
the
;
first
letter
of the
;
river Licking,
which
the
Ohio, on
Kentucky
side
os,
the
mouth
anti, opposite
to
and
villc,
a city.
The author
of this conglomerate did not long survive.
Cincinnati was founded in romance.

river,
There were two other

possession
rival
settlements on the
fort.
and
all
three were striving for the
of the
United
States
North
bright
Bend was
selected, the
work begun, when one of the

of the
settlers,
observing that the

officer,
eyes of his wife had attracted the attention

cinnati.
commanding
moved
to
Cin-
But immediately Cincinnati was discovered to be the better
site,
and materials
ON
world;
ville is
TfJE OHIO.
tin'
is
165
tlicv
fair
know
the\;
arc
masters of
river.
tlie
I'illsbury;
is
lurid
and
busy;
like
iier
LouisBuffalo
oil-re-
and indolent
elevators,
hut C'ineinnati
(|ueen.
She has no specialty
with
her
Louisville with her
l.ourhon -warehouses, Cleveland

or,
with
fineries,
antl
Pittsburo; with her iron-mills;
rather, she
has
them
all,
antl
therefore anv
one
is
not
noticeable.
as
Within
the
the
city
is
one i)icturesque
locality
the
Cierman
(juar-
ter known
"Over
Rhine," the
Miami Canal
old
representing
in
the
Rhine.
Here
at
the the
German
signs, the
flaxen-haired
children, the
women
'kerchiefs
knitting
doors, the lager-beer, the

at
window-gardens and climbing

of
all
vines, the
dense population, and,
evening, the
street-music
is
kinds,
are
at
once foreign
and southern.
In
the
centre of the city

in the workl.
the Tyler-Davidson iMjuntain one of the
most
at
beautiful
ftnmtains
The
figures are bronze, cast at
Munich, Bavaria,
presented to
the
a cost of
one hundred
thousand
dollars.
The
fountain
is
memorial,
It
the
city
by
the
one of
People
its
millionnaires, in
memory
of a
relative.
bears
inscription,
"To
of
at
Cincinnati;"
and the
people are constantly drinking from the four drinking-fountains
the corners, or looking
up to the grand goddess above, who, from her beneficent, out-
stretched hands, seems to be sending rain
down upon
a thirsty land.
Below Cincinnati
Floating
are the vineyards, stretching uj) the hills along the northern
shore.
is
down
the river in the spring and

"
seeing
the
all,"
green
ranks
of the vines, one
moved
to exclaim,
This
is
the most beautiful of

alread\-
forgetting that the mountains

forth
of
\'irginia
and
tiie
parks of Kentucky ha\'e

the
called
in
the
same words.
the juices
wines.
The
of the
native
Catawba wine of
West was
first
made
Cincinnati, and
vineyards of the Beautiful River have gained an honorable

Bellevue,
in
name among
Kentucky, and
Patriot,
in
Indiana,
are
charming specimens of
river-
scenerv, the latter
showing the
hill-side
is
vineyards.
b\-
The
navigation of the Ohio

in
its
obstructed
tow-heads and
of
fifty
sand-bars,
feet
and by the
high
remarkable changes low water-mark.
depth, there being a variation

ri\'er
between
and
In the earlv days a broad

a treacherous foe
was the
the
safest
highway, as the
forests
on shore concealed
who
coveted
a
goods of the immigrant; hence

and
tloated down-stream,
once over the mountains, families purchased

the
flat-boat
hugging
by
Kentucky
shore.
These
Kentuck\-
tlats
were made of green oak-plank,
fiistened
wooden
pins to a frame of timber, and calked with tow, and,

in
upon reaching
their
desti-
nation, the immigrants used the material
building
their
cabins.
As
villages
grew up
larger craft were introduced, keel-boats and

latter fiftv
;
barges, the former
employing ten hands, the
both had a mast,
a square-sail,
and
coils of
cordage,
known
as
cordilles,
and
when
fro,
the wind was adverse they were propelled by long poles, the crew walking to
their toilsome track.
and
bending over
The boatmen
of the
Ohio were
under
sail,
hardy, merry
race,
poling
their
unwieldy
craft
slowly along, or gliding on
sounding a bugle
girls,
as
they approached
a village,
and shouting out
their
compliments to the
who, attracted by the music, came down
66
PJCTURESQUE AMERICA.
to
to the slioRtasliion,
see
in
them
a
;
pass.
ol at
'l"he\
\vori>
red
liaU
handki
reliiefs
on
their
heads, tiirban-
and talked
jargon
their
own,
l'"reneh,
at
hall
Indian;
a violin
formed on the
part of
their e(|iiipment
and
niyht,
drawn
up
some
villaiie,
thev danced
Jellersonviile,
Indiana.
flat
"
to])S
of
their
boats
the
the
ri\'er,
orisrinal
minstrels.
In
the
this
way, as the
old
flats,
song;
has
it,
They
glided
down
the O-hi-o."
At
present
day these
or
arks, are
still
seen, propelled with orieat
sweeps instead of
life,
poles.
They keep out
of the steamboat
channel, and lead a vagabond

stop.
trading at the settlements where the

the
shallows,
in
all
steamers
do not
They
there
are seen
drawn up
in
hands smoking or
lying half asleep,

a
as
if
was no such thing
as
work
the world.
;
canal-boat
is
is
is
high-toned, in-
dustrious boat
compared with one of these arks

it
for a
canal-boat
the
bound somewhere,
bound
nowhere
in
and goes on time, although
may
be
slow time, while
ark
-^
i-S^.
New
Albany,
Iniiiana.
particular,
and
is
as likely as not to take a
whole summer
for
one
trip
down
the
river
The
majority of the Ohio-River craft are tow-boats, black, puffing monsters, mere grimy
t(j
shells
cover a powerful engine.
If
tow means
to pull, then
tiie
name
of tow-boat
is
ON THE
a misnomer-;
for these boats
OHIO,
push.
eoal
167
Their tows
or
rafts
never
pull,
hut
al\va\s
tô
in
front,
two
or three
abreast, heavy,
open
flat-boats, filled
with
of timber, and
behind
comes the steamer pushiny- them slowly
along, her
great
stem-wheel
churning up the
water behind, and her smoke-stacks belching forth black streams.

the
Negroes do
is
most of
work on
the river, ami enliven

filled
toil
with their antics.

is
night-landing
the
picturesque;
pole,
an iron basket,
then,
with
llaming
pine-knots,
hung out on
end
of a
and
down over
the plank stream the negro

freight with a
hands, jerking
themselves
along with
song
and joke, carrying heavy
kind of uncouth, dancing step, and stopping to
laugh with a freedom that would astonish the crew of a lake-propeller accustomed to do
the same
work
in
half the time under the sharp eye of a laconic mate.
Jeffersonville,
Indiana,
is
thriving
town nearly opposite
Louisville.
Here
is
the
only
fall
in
the
Ohio River more than

a
descent of twenty-three feet in two miles, a very mild
cataract, hardly
rapid.
Such
as
it
is,
however,
it
it
obstructs navigation
rock.
at
low stages of water, and
a canal has been cut

is
around
thnnigh the solid
New
Albany, Indiana, a few miles below,

Louisville
an important and handsomely-situated town.

the
jt
pronounced
Louyville at the North, but Louisville, with
carefully
It
sounded, by the citizens themselves
is
large, bright city, the
pride
of
Kentucky.
was
tion
first
settled
by Virginians
in
1773, and
remained
for
some time under the

in
protec-
of the
mother-State; even
now, to have been

built
born
plane
Virginia
is
Louisville
patent of nobility.
The
city
is
on
sloping
seventy feet
above low-water
river,
mark, with broad streets lined with stately stone warehouses on and near the
beautiful residences farther back.
and
Louisville has a
great wains
more Southern aspect than Pittsburg

cotton-lialcs
;
and Cincinnati.
Here you meet
piled with
the
windows
are
shaded with awnings;
and the residences swarm with

;
servants turbaned
negro cooks,
their
who
are
;
artists in their line
waiting-maids with
the
pairs
stately
manners of
old
for
mis-
tresses family.
and innumerable children eight or ten
of hands to do the
work
one
In the Court-House
is
a life-like statue of
Henry
Clay, a
man whose memory Kenstately
tucky delights to
honor.
His grave
is
at
Lexington the most

the
tomb
in
the
late
West,
war.
if
not
in
all
America.
At
Louisville, also, begin
double graves of the
The
beautiful cemetery contains

side.
two
j^lats
where the dead armies lie Confederate
soldiers
on one
:
Union
soldiers
;
on the
other.
The
little
wooden head-boards
tell
sad stories
"
Ao-ed twenty-two
da\-,
"
"
aged twenty-three."
of
Often there are whole rows

battle,
who
as
died on the same

Louisville in the
the
wounded
some Southwestern
died there
in
who came
as
far
crowded
freight-cars,
and
the hospital.
While the
to
fathers
and mothers, while the widows of the dead

Decoration Days.
soldiers live, there will

will
continue
all
be
two
But the next generation

day
will
lay
its
wreaths upon
all
the graves alike,
and
o-radually the
grow
into a hol\
Ijack
memory
of
the dead, citizen and soldier,
as Tirne sends the story of the
war
into the annals of the past.
THE PLAINS AND THE

WITH II.LUSTRATIDNS
VA'
SIERRAS.
THOMAS MURAN.
Witches'
Rocks,
Weber Canou.
THE
age
present
banishes
the
past
it
so
quickly
in
this
busy
continent
that
distant
to
the
younger generation of to-day
aheady seems
very dreamy and
heroic
when men went out upon
the orcat prairies of
tlie
West
as
upon
dreaded
kmd
THE PLAINS AND THE SIERRAS.

of
169
unknown
sea.
Even now,
perhaps, there
is
little
spice of adventure for the quieter
New-England
citizen, as
he gathers around him the prospective contents of a comfortable

at
his
travelling-trunk,
and glances
look
long
the
slip
of printed
stretch
railway-tickets, preparatory
to
thundering westward to
out at
great
;
of the
Plains the
from the ample

day
window
of a
perfectly-upholstered
sleeping-car
but
how remote
seems when
(if
men
tightened their pistol-belts and
looked to their horses, and throbbed

;
they were
out,
young) with something of the proud consciousness of explorers

the frontier settlement of civilization,
and so
set
from
upon
that
great
ocean of far-reaching, level grassof like
land and desert, to cross which was a deed to be talked
the voyage
of the
old
Minyae!
single title of
Mr. Harte's has preserved
for
us
the whole
spirit
of those
seemingly old-time journeys; he has called the travellers "the Argonauts of

this
49,"
and
in
one phrase
lies
the
"
complete picture of that already dim
and distant venture
the
gold-
dreaded crossing of
But, although
the Plains."
the "prairie
schooner "^the great

its
white-tented
that rode
wagon of
beside
it,
the
seekers and the pioneers

peared,
their
and
adjuncts,
and the men
have disaplittle
we cannot change
it
the Plains themselves in a decade.
We
encroach a
upon
borders,
may
be,
and learn of a narrow
strip
of their
surface, but
they them;
selves remain practically
untouched by the
civilization that brushes over
them
they close
behind the scudding train like the scarce broader ocean

the
behind the
stoutest
as
it
steamer of
lay centuries
moderns
vast expanse as silent
and unbroken and undisturbed

It
is
before ever
rail
or keel was dreamed of

us there remain the
our point of view that
has changed, not

this
they
and
for all of
same wonders
earliest
to be looked upijn in
fighter
great
half-known region as were there for the
Indian
the
title,
first
of the
adven-
turous souls that went mine-hunting toward the Golden Gate.
Our
that
time,
it
it
is
true, attaches a different signification

little
to the
"the Plains," from
which
bore
more than
a quarter of a century ago.
In reality, there extends

States
to
from the
of the
features,
ver\- central
portion of the
vast
now
reach
well-peopled Western
of prairie
the veiy foot

in
all
its
Rocky Mountains one

on the globe.
the
are
most
remarkable,
On
of
the
eastern
portion
of this
now
the thoroughly settled,

in
grain-bearing States
full
fertile
farms and
great
cities,
and no longer connected

the
our minds, as they were
in those of
men
us,
a generation before us, with
untried
lands
of exploration and adventure.
For
the boundary of the region of the comparatively

the
unknown
has been driven back bevond the Mississippi, beyond
Missouri, even;
is
and
he
the Eastern citizen, he he ever so

crosses
thoroughly the town-bred

that
man,
at
home
until
the
muddy, sluggish water
flows
under Council
Bluffs,
"
and hardly passes

express," that
level
out of the land of most familiar objects until the whistle
of the
Pacific
cames him,
is
no longer heard
in
Omaha, and he
is
fairly
under way on the great
of Nebraska.
The
route
of the
Pacific
93
Railway
'
is
not
only that which "
for
many
years will
be
I/O
passes
nearest
to
the most familiar jkUIi across the Plains, and not only that which
the
it
well-known
emiyrant-road
of
former
days,
luit
it
is
also
the
road
which,
tliouyli
misses the nobler beauties of the
i\oeky Mountains, shows the trawller (he prairie

in
itself
perhaps as true
and
characteristic
an aspect as could be found

less-tried
on any through
course.
It
passes
almost every change of prairie scenery
the
alkali
fertile
land of the east and the

;
region farther on
past the his-
toric
outposts of
the
old
pioneers
infrequent
among
low
bitttcs
and
"islands;" and over a country abound-
ing in points of view from which one
mav
mark
take
this
in
all
the
features
that
portion
of the
continent.
To
I
is
the south, the great level expanse
hardly interrupted before the shore
"
I
of the
Gulf of Mexico
is
reached,
to
and
the
Mexican boundary;
hills
the
north,
the
and high table-land

are the only
I
"3
of the
Upper Missouri
this
breaks
border.
side
of
the
Canadian
Through almost the middle

vast
Pacific
a
line
of
this
and
clear
expanse the
Union
west
Railway runs east and

of
life
of
flowing
like
river
through
the
great
it
plain
the
midof no
Kansas Pacific joining

dle
its
at the
course,
tributaiy
small importance.
Omaha
those
most
truly
typical
all
of
the
border
towns
that,
world over, spring up on
the \'erge
of the civilized where the unexplored
begins
stands
its
looking out upon the

trav-
muddy water
eller
of the
Missouri,
and watching with interested eyes that transient

long within
hardl\i:)recincts
whom
all
it
generally entices in vain to linger

life
town
that
has been
its
starting-place
far as
to which
anybody has ever come with the

;
thought of staying, so
one can learn from
hearsay
and
yet, in
spite
of the fact
^n
-^N.
.5^
the sunset begins to cast long
shadows from the black mountains
on the southern
side
of
the
North Fork of the

is
Platte,
there
something almost somplain.
bre in the aspect of the shaded
The
passed
Laramie
;
plains
have
still
just
lie
been
the
indeed,
they
to
nortlnvard.
(if
Hills break the
monotony
and there
butfcs
sky.
tlieir
horizon,
and here
the
regular forms of castellated
stand
*<
out
fir-off
sharply
against
the
*^
.'..;v-
The
Red
Buttes- are
most note-
Biittes,
Green River.
worthy and most picturesque of these
174
PICTURESQUE A AIERICA.
together
the
like
grouped
giant
fortresses,
with fantastic towers and walls, they
lilt
ragged
shapes
edges above
their
prairie,
looking lonely, weird, and strong.
Among
Dial
the
singular
masses of stone assume, the strangelv-formed and
pillar-like
Rocks tower up
lour
built
columns of worn and scarred sandstone,

by
giants.
like the supports of
some ruined cromlech

about the
little
About them,
and, indeed, through the whole region

tiic
i:)lace
set-
ilemcnts and army-posts, from
called
Wyoming, on
The
to
Bitter
Creek
ominously
hills.
named
the
country
is
is
a
it,
barren, unproductive waste.
curse
of the
sage-brush, and
even of
alkali,
upon
and
it
is
dreary and
gloomy everywhere save on
the
Only with the
ajiproach
to
Green
River does the verdure

river-bank.
come again
and
then
only here and there, generally close by the

the
buttes
Here
that
the
jMcturesque
forms of
reappear
welcome
desert
relief
to
the
past.
monotony
has
marked the outlook

is
during the miles of level

longer
the
is
that
are
The
the
distance, too,
changed, and
no
like the great
surface
of a sea.
To
north, forming the
horizon, stretches
Wind-River Range
named
with a breezy poetry that

pioneers.
we miss
in
the later
lie
nomenUintah
clature of the race that has followed after the
To
Black
the
south
the
Mountains.
At some
dreds of
feet,
little
distance from
tlie
railway the
great
Buttes
rise
up
for
hun-
terminating in round and rough-ribbed towers.
And
other detached columns
of stone stand near them of the river and

its
the
Pilot, seen far off in the
view that Mr. Moran has drawn

fantastic
cliffs.
And
through
all
this
region
forms
abound every-
where, the architecture of Nature exhibited in sport.

here in the
first
An
best
as
Eastern journalist
traveller
days
of the
lie
Pacific
Railway
wide
has
enumerated the varied shapes.

of departed
;
All
about
one,
he
says,
"long, or
troughs,
rivers;
long,
level
embankments,
rising
as of
plain,
railroad-tracks
endless
;
fortifications
huge, quaint
hills,
suddenly
earth,
built
from the
bearing fantastic shapes
great square
as
if
mounds
of rock
and had
half-formed, half-broken pyramids
it
would seem
to
a generation a
of giants
and buried
here,
and
left
their
is
work
awe and humble

of the
It lies
puny
succession."
in
The Church Butte
the
grandest
groups that
rise
this
singular and
little
striking series of tower-like piles of stone.

station of
somewhat
further on,
beyond the
an
Bryan, and forms
compact and imposing mass of

the
rock, with
outlying
spur that has even more than

tecture.
It
main body the
air
of human, though gigantic archiin
"imposes on the imagination," says Mr.

"
Bowles,
one of
his
in
jiassages
its
of
clear description,
like a
its
grand old cathedral going into decay

height and breadth."
like
quaint
fantastic
crumbling-
ornaments, majestic in
group, he
says
:
And
of the towering forms of the whole

illustrations
hills
"
They seem,
in
the
more numerous and

l)e
of
that
Nature's frolicksome art
Southern
Colorado, to
the
remains
of granite
lordly force
wind and water, and

the
air
especially the sand whirlpools that
march with
the
through
achieve-
literally
moving mountains
have
left
to
tell
story of their
own
ments.
Not
unfitly, there as here,
they have
won
the
title
of
'Monuments
to the Gods.'"
177
groups
of
mountain-
masses must be sought

elsewhere.
The
rise
;
Plains
themselves
one
in
does not leave them

order
a
to climb.
Over
vast,
grass
covered,
almost unbroken, gradual

slope,
extending
over hundreds of miles

of countr>% the wayfarer has
water-shed.
come imperceptibly
not of
hills
to
the
great
It is scener>' of prairie,
and peaks, that
has surrounded his journey.
For the
man, the
last
fifty
miles, indeed, before the

;
anival at
is
Sherall.
rise
has
been barely appreciable
but that
the
a
new circumstance
makes
the
descent
from
great
height
much more
It
is
perceptible and enjoyable through
new
sensation.
then that the traveller over duller Eastern roads,

"
who
lias
himself that the

railway
speed,
"
lightning express
learns the real
of his
own
a
region was the highest possible
first
meaning of
"down
grade."
The
descent
178
is
from Sherman to the Laramie Plains

slid
new experience
a
to
sueh
people
as
have
harch"
not
indilast
ilown a
ivLissian
ice-hill,
it
or
to
fallen
from
fourth-story window.
last
Let the
platform
to
vidual
who would
enjov
the
full
betake himself to the
of the or
car, or the
foremost })latform of the front one, and there hold hard
brake
railing,
to watch
tiie
bewitched world
ha\-e returned
sj)in
and
whirl.
But we
Butte,
a long distance
on our course.
We
have reached the Church
beyond Bryan, and had crossed Green River, near the place where, on the old overand
the
land stage -route
emigrant-road, travellers used years ago to ford the stream

still
is
no
the
unwelcome
task, with
that great Bitter-Creek waste of alkali
fresh
in
the
memories
from the
to
and hardlv out of
their view.
At Bryan
Station,
too,
there
an
the
offshoot
regular path, in the form of a
long stage-road, leading
away
into
northeast
picturesque mining-region of Sweetwater, a hundred

endless toil in searching for deceptive
" leads."
miles
distant,
where man has spent
The main
line
of the great railway goes on
beyond Green River through the
valley
of a stream that flows

Bridcrer
down from
the Uintah Mountains; and, leaving at the south Fort

road, enters
and
crossing- the old
Mormon
Utah.
little
farther,
and we are
among
the noblest scenes of the journey this side the far-away Sierras. the Rhine, the long stretch
"
As on
for years,
lies
of the river
that
from
Mainz to Cologne has been

of the
Pacific
by acknowledgment,
the river," so
in
portion
Railway that
day
between Wasatch and Ogden,

of the journey across
tourist as
this
northernmost
of the
corner of Utah, will some

continent
all
be that part
regarded
the
centre
that will
It
it
be
especially
by the
necessary to
be
seen
beyond
others.
does
is
not
;
in
it
grandeur apjnoach
is
the
mountain-scenery near the western

of which
is
coast,
in
but
unique
;
something, the counterpart
you can
see
nowhere
the world
and, long
after the
whole
Pacific journey
as
hackneyed
it
in the eyes of
its
Europeans and Americans
as
is
the Rhine tour now, this part of

It
is
will
keep
freshness
among
the most
marked
scenes of the journey.
a place
which
cities
and settlements cannot destroy.

a tunnel nearly
short distance west from
Wasatch Station the road passes through

preparation for what
is
eight hundred feet in length.
The
to
come could not be
better;
and, indeed, the whole bleak and dreary region that has been passed over adds so
to the freshness
much
and picturesqueness of these Utah scenes that

little
it
may
very possibly have

the darkness the
contributed not a
train
to the enthusiasm they ha\'e called forth.
From
lies
emerges suddenly, and, tunnel and cutting being passed, there

view of the green valley before the entrance to Echo
River, bordered with trees, and
before
the
it
trav-
eller a
Canon.
is
Through
flows
of
the
all
Weber
making
a -scene that
suddenly deprived
the weirdness and look of dreary devastation that has
marked
broad, so
is
the country through so

pastoral
;
many
that
miles of this long journey.

after the wild
The
valley
is
not so
first
in
it
asjiect,
is
as
which comes
scenery of the
caiion
passed
but
like
woodland
valley of
home
lying here in the wilderness.

smooth, white
in
all
187
line
is
wliat appears to the eye to he a well-laid

feet.
white stone-wall, vatying

mountain-side
the
height from ten to twenty

the
This white
spectacle
as
on
a
the red
slide
has
the
appearance
of
being
made by man
or devil
from
top
of
mountain to the bed of Weber River."

This odd
freak
of
Nature has nothing sublime about

;
it;
the whole
idea
that
it
conveys
is
that of singularity
but
it
is
strangely picturesque and striking.
And now we
the canon than
are nearing the very centre of

first
Mormondom
for only a little
beyond
the Devil's Gate, which, though

tlK>
"
named,
to
is
farther
toward the western extremity of

at
Slide,"
we come
Uintah Station, glance

trains
the Salt-Lake Valley,

itself
and are hurried on to Ogden, whence the
go out
to the City of the Saints
Ogden
lies
in
the
great
plain
of the valley, but
from the low railway-station you see
Plains
of the
Humboldt.
in
the distance long ranges of mountains,

far
;
more picturesque than almost any

town
are
distant view
you have had thus

off
fields
and
all
about the
prairie
;
green
fields
yes, positively fenced-
and
beyond them the

will
but here no longer without trees.
Whoever
the
may
leave
this
station
great
central
point
of the
tine,
for
here
Union and
adding
a
the Central roads meet and cause the
dreary business
of changing cars
and,
tral
dav or two to
if,
his
journey,
may
take the
sonorously-named
Utah Cenjourney
in
Railway
as
indeed,
tlic
Territory boasted a net-work of iron roads
and
" It
down
to Salt-Lake Citv to sec the curious civilization he will find ihere.
lies
great valley," says the statistical and accurate description of this city of the
a
Mormons
of error
lies
description which
we
prefer to partly set

for
down
here rather than to run
risks
by trusting our own memory
any thing more than picturesque aspects
" it
in a
88
PIC rURESQ UE AMERICA.

up
to the
^reat vallcv. cxtoiulinti- close
base
of
tlir
Wasateli
Mountains on
the
north,
one iunulred miles of with an expansive view to the south of more than
which,
in
i)lains,
beyond
and
the
distance, rise, clear cut
and
orand
in
the
extrenu-,
tiie
oray, jagged,
(Oh, unhappy writer perpetual snow." rugged mountains, whose peaks are covered with How much more "giand in the extreme" is tiiat view in its statistical guide-books!
in
briiiht
reality
than
an\-
words of yours or mine can show to those who have

"
not seen
it
Let us keep to our

region,
statistics.)
Adjoining the
trade.
city
is
fine
agricultural
is
and
mining
and
of
which has where

it
a large
and growing
irrigated, is
The
climate of the \alley
healthful,
the
soil,
can
be
extremely
fertile
The
city covers
an
area
handsomely laid out. The streets are about nine miles, or three miles each way, and is through all of them, keeping the shade-trees very wide, with irrigating ditches passing
and orchards looking
every house has
Fruit
is
beautiful.
Every block
orchard
is
surrounded with
shade-trees,
and nearly
cherry trees.
its
neat
little
of apple, peach, apricot, plum, and
the cotton-wood-tree, grow side very abundant, and the almond, the catalpa, and In fact, the whole nine square miles by side with the maple, the willow, and the locust.
is
almost one continuous garden."
So
it
will
be seen that even a city on the Plains has elements that

it
entitle
are.
it
to
place in this record of the picturesque, and that
is
"
not as
Salt
other
cities
But Mr.
Charles Nordhoff
pleasure-traveller
tells
us, in
his
"
California," that
Lake need not hold any mere

it
more than
a day.
You
can drive
all
over
in
two hours
and when
;
you have seen the Tabernacle an

contains
admirably-arranged
and very ugly building which
an
organ,
built
is
in
Salt
in
Lake by an
size
English
workman,
Mormon, named
sweeter in tone
Ridges, which organ
second
only to the Boston organ, and
far
Brigham Young's enclosure, which than the one of Plymouth Church; the menagerie of
contains
several
bears,
some lynxes and wild-cats natives
of these
mountains and
remains, and of the small but interesting collection of minerals and Indian
of the of the
manufactures
Mormons;
city of
the
Temple Block; and enjoyed
the magnificent view from the

lie
back
the valley
and the snow-capped peaks which

all
on the other side

Salt-Lake
City,
lies
view which you carry with you have time,

if
over the place you
have done
and
far
you have
risen early, to bathe at the sulphur s])ring. day."
The
lake
too
away
to be visited in
one
its
But, in spite of
distance, the great inland sea should
certainly be
seen.
it,
It
is
remarkable sight from any point of view, and as you

long
days of
travel, in
come suddenly upon

rivers
after
it
the
which
ôu
have
seen
only
and
scanty brooks,
seems
alm'ost marvellous.
sunshine, or a dark waste great expanse of sparkling water in the
that looks like the ocean itself to be forgotten in
when vou
see
it
under
cloudy sky,
it
is
an outlook not
many
we
a day.
Here, before
very
false idea
leave
the
Salt-Lake
region,
we must
sav a
its
word
to
correct
one
concerning it that which obtains concerning
great fertility and natural
191
Pleasant V'alley. Truckee River.
ontory
called
properly,
"
it
seems,
Point,"
bit
Promontory
which appears a strange
of tautology.
Here
all
is
noteworthy
place,
and one which
historians of the
future ought to cele-
brate,
each
after
his
manner.
road
Close
by
the
station,
which
Salt
the
reaches after skirting the shore

little
of the
great
Lake
for a
time, and then suddenly
curving- awav, the trreat iron

east,
line,
i)ushcd westward from the
met and joined

it
that wiiich for
many months had grown

last
slowlv toward
chain
the
from
the west
the
links
of the
iron
were
riveted.
There were jubilant

road
rails;
ceremonies when
at
last,
great
day of ending the

the
last
came
on
in
the
tlu'
loth
of
May,
1868.
silent
rose-
wood
a
"tie" joined
and solemnly,
presence of a
assembly,
golden spike was

that
drivên
with
silver
hammer
mightiest
world.
the
last
of the thousands on thousands

for the sake of
of fasteninofs
held
to<rether
in
all
the
tiic
work made
Tiie engines
human comand west,
munication
as Bret
and intercourse
met from the
east
Harte told us
"
Pilots
touching
head
to
head
Facing on the single track,

Half a world behind each back "
192
PICTURESQUE
ihciv
AMERIC.-1.
as
'
ami
ilared
was
iiiixllc
rouiul
the
earth
sucli
the
men
of a century before had not
e\en to cheani
the
of.
Bevond
nieniorable
I'romontorv comes a
ch'cary
waste
all
the
dreariest
that
lias
yet been passed, and perhai)S the most utterly desolate of
the journey.
little
Nothing
lizards;
lives yes,
here
but
the
hopelessly wretched sage-brush, and
tribe of
basking
one thinu more
the
kind of gaunt, lank

this arid plain.
animals
is
called
"jackass-rabbits,"
that
eat
no
one knows what on

the
The horizon
salt
;
bordered by bare, burned rnountains;

a whirl
grcHuid
is
waste of sand and
the air
!
is
of alkali-dust.
Kclton, and
jMatlin,
and Toano, dreariest of Nevada stations

bitter fate
is
Could any man wish
his direst
enemy
moVe
than to be kept here in the midst of this scene for a decade?

farther on, hidden near the route of the railway
;
There
apart
region.
some mineral wealth,

there
but,
this
from
this,
would seem
sterile
to be nothing useful to
man
obtainable from
all
We
dash across the

for
space in a few hours, but imagine for a
moment
the
in
drearv time
the
old
emigrant-trains, which
grass,
came on
to these gusty, dusty levels
old days, and
foimd
neither
nor water, nor
foliage, until
they
came
to
Humboldt
Wells, blessed of
many
travellers, lying close

tall,
together within a few hundred yards of the
present road, and surrounded with
deep-green herbage.
;
There
are nearly a score of
these grateful springs scattered about in a small area
and they are of very great depth,
with cool,
fresh,
limjjid water.
They
to the
alonaf
herald the approach of another and a different district, for

itself,
now we soon come

The
Humboldt River
its
and
for a
its
time have
all
the benefit of the growth of trees

its
sides,
;
and the
fertilitv
little
that
waters revive along

river,
course.
soil
here
is
really arable
but go a
distance
away from the
and the few water-pools are
alkaline,
and the land resumes the features of the

is
desert-soil.
The
in
scenery here, in the

places even wild
upper part of the Humboldt Valley,
for a
time varied, and
many
and grand.
The road winds through
picturesque
canons, and under the shadow of the

is
northernmost mountains of the Humboldt Range, until the important station of Elko
reached.
This
is
noteworthy supply-station
settlements.
It
for all the
country around
it,
in
all
which are
the guidelearn from
numerous ihining
books of
The town
is
place
of great import to
five
this region.
it
;
has a population of
more than
fifty
thousand, as
we
one account of
and there are a hundred and
shops of various kinds, great
freight-houses, an hotel,
two banks, two newspapers,

is
a school,
and
three
a court-house.
Truly
most i)romising prairie-town

rtourish
this,
!
to
have grown
up
in
hurried
years,
and to
on the borders of a desert

a
little
For now we have
more of sage-brush and

Plains on a hot
alkali,
ant-hills,
and sand.
feels
Let
flying
him who passes over the

white
dust
in
Humboldt
August
day,
and
the
burning and parching eyes and

the
mouth and
wash
it
throat,
making
gritty
unpleasin
antness
water wherewith
he
tries
to
awav,
is
and
finding
lodgment
every fold of his clothing, be sufficiently thankful that he
not plodding on with jaded
193
horse
a
bv the side of
emigrant-
crowded
wagon, with days of

similar journeying be-
hind
of
it
him,
still
and
some
to come.
Emigrant
rious
or
car,
passenger
by
luxu-
Pullman
to
he will be glad to
come near
the refreshing grandeur
of scenery of the Palisades

this
is
though
leaving
into
the
finest of
not
seen
without
the the
established
route,
at
and penetrating a
side.
little
mountains
one
It
is
here that you

as
come upon such

Mr.
glimpses
and
vistas
in
the
one
Moran
has
drawn
breaks
the
rocky
wall, tiirough
wiiich
mM
u[)
one looks out on
really perfect mountain-pictures.

;
There arc hot springs here
and
in
one valley a host of them sends

is
perpetual steam,
the
of sulphurous odor, and the ground
tinged with mineral colors, as
at
geysers of
194
California.
All
around
us, too,
arc
niinina;
districts,
all
some of them
association
old
wilii
and exhausted,
"
some
still
flourishing.
To
the
i)ionccrs
they
have
the
li\cly
times;"
the veterans talk of "the Austin excitement," and
famous "Washoe time"
periods
which seem
like a distant
age to
us.
The
railwav and the emigrant-road have long followed the course of the
is
Humboldt
River, but this
not always in sight after Battle Mountain

;
named
the
from an old Indian

road
runs
combat
fresh,
is
passed
and hnally
little
it
is
lost to
view altogether, and

itself;
by the
bright-looking
Lovelock's,
station
of
Humboldt
that
past Golconda, and

;
Winnemucca,
and
and
Brown's
as
names
have
histories
"
and
finally
Wadsworth
a
title
is
reached^ cheerfullv hailed
the
beginning of the
Sacramento
division,"
that
fiiirly
reads already like the California names.

begin.
And
here the Plains are done
the Sierras
at
The monotony
of the view begins to change
the mountains slope about us, as
we
last,
enter the well-named Pleasant Valley, through which
Truckee
itself,
River flows, and
passing through well-wooded land again, reach Truckee
a little city in the wilderness,
standing
among
the very main ridges of the
Sierra
chain.
The town
the
riots,
first
of the
stations within the actual limits of California
is
a picturesque, bright place

fire," its
of six
thou-
sand inhabitants a place that has had

tures,
its
"great
revival,
its
and adven-
not a whit behind those of the larger mining towns
farther
toward the interior
of the State.
Along
and
bare,
the rocky shores of
its
river lie the noblest scenes
the
tall
cliffs
are ragged
but
pine-tree-crowned
stretches
the
rock-broken water
plain
;
ripples
and
thunders through
incipient
gorges and
civilization
itself,
little
of
fertile
and the
buzzing saw-mills of an
its
hum
with a homelike,
New-England sound on
banks.
From
The
the
town
stages
the
stages of luxury and civilization, too
carry
the traveller to the beautigreat sheet
ful
and now well-known Donner Lake, only two or three miles away.
beautiful water lies
of clear and the
high up in the mountains, between steep

scenery of the
sides,
and
in
midst
of the
wildest
is
and
most picturesque of the

its
Sierra
summits.
The depth
of the lake
very great, but
waters arc so transparent that one can look

soil
down many fathoms

for
into
them
they are unsullied by any disturbance of

solid rock.
or
sand,
they
lie
in
a bed
formed almost entirely of the
Few
things could have
more
perfect
beauty than this

fifteen
mountain-lake,
and
its
even
more famous neighbor. Lake Tahoe, some

is
miles farther to the south.
The scene
a great
never twice the same.

of the
in
Though
there
it
lies
is
under the unbroken sunlight through

in
part
summer
weather,
perpetual variation
the
great
mountain-shad-
ows, and
breeze and calm on the surface.

It
is
There
is
a climate here that
makes almost
the ideal atmosphere.
neither cold to chilliness nor
warm
to discomfort, but always
bracing, invigorating, inspiring with a kind of pleasant and energetic intoxication.

invalids
Already
the
come
to these saving lakes from east
and west, and
find
new
life
uji
among

covered
in
203
by strong snow-sheds, extending, with

are,
onl}'
trifling
breaks, for
many
miles.
Indispensable as they
feeling a sense of
no one has passed through
their
long, dark
tunnels without
be
so
personal
wrong
that so
much
that
is
beautiful should
shut
out
pine-
from view.
covered
Through breaks and openings he looks down

and catches a glimpse of a foaming
black wall
"incomplete.
river
in
into
dark
canons, with
sides,
liundrcds
of feet
below,
train,
when
suddenly the
picture
is
of boards
and
posts
closes
again
upon the
and the
left
That happiest of men, the lover of the picturesque who has

fail
the leisure to indulge his love, must not
to leave
the
travelled
route
here
for
days,
and to
satisfy
himself with
all
the grander aspects of what he will find about him.

slo|)e
still
The
railway passes on
from Truckee, climbing a gradual
to
Summit,
fifteen
miles farther, the highest station on the Central Pacific, though
lower than Sherman,
of which
we spoke long
is
ago.
Summit, standing
at the highest point of this pass

feet
through
of the
the range,
sea
;
at
an altitude of seven thousand and forty-two

it,
above the
feet,
level
and, to reach
the track has ascended twenty-five hundred
say the
guides, in
fifty
miles
and
in
the
hundred and four miles
between
this
and
Sacramento, on the
plain beyond, the descent
must again be made
to a point only fifty-six feet
above
sea-level.
This part of the journey
the
still
western descent from Summit
is
one that the writer

There can be no
has several times reached just at the most glorious period of sunrise.
more
perfect scene.
The road winds along

lying.
the edges of great precipices, and in the deep

that are snow-covered catch
rise
canons below the shadows are

the
first
Those peaks above

color.
rays of the sun, and
glow with wonderful

and then
is
Light wreaths of mist

the
air,
up
All
to the
end of the zone of
pines,
drift
away
into
and are
;
lost.
about one the aspect of the mountains
of the wildest, most intense kind
for
is
by that
it
word "intense" something seems

differs utterly
to be expressed of the positive force there
in
that
is
from the
effect of
is
such a scene as
lies
passive for our admiration.
This
grand;
it
is
magnetic; there
no escaping the wonder-working inlkience of the great

forests,
grouping of mountains and ravines, of dense
and ragged pinnacles of rock.

and
liefore
But
soon
the
the
mountains
seem
to
fade
away,
we
as
realize
it
we
are
among
in
foot-hills
those
"
oak-clad or
bare
brown
hills,
that,
Mr. King told us

coast
the
passage
we
([uoted,
in
wander out into the great

spring-time, green bays of
plain
prairie."
like
])romontories,
enclosing
yellow,
or,
the
^\nd so out upon the
plain of the
it
San Joaquin.
still
We
might fancy ourselves back again upon the Plains were

of heights
before
us.
not
for the
farther
range
These are brown,
bare, unpict-
uresque, outlying
hills,
and we dash througli them by Livermore's
Pass, having
passed
Sacramento, and go on our way toward the coast.

Civilization appears again
are like similar places in the
;
houses and towns begin
to
line
the
track
the
stations
East; the prosaic raihvay-pedlers come back again with their

is
hated wares; for
us,
the picturesque
ears, as
over; and already the
hum
of the
still
distant city
seems almost to reach our
we
dash
in
under
tiie
great green oaks of Oakland.
THE SUSQUEHANNA.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY tiRANVlLLE PERKINS.
THE
effects;
Susquehanna
It
is
is
considered with justice one of the most picturesque streams of

its
America.
true that the scenery along

artist's
banks seldom reaches to sublime
but these do not touch the

'
inmost heart so deeply as the softer beauties

its
which are displayed from
its
sources
almost to
bare,
entrance
cliffs,
into
the
Chesapeake
"
Bay.
antres
There are no yawning

vast."
precipices,
no
is
tremendous
no savage rocks, no
But, in their stead, there

;
a constant
succession of bold mountain-forms,

in
wooded
shadow,
from the base to the summit
of deep ravines, where the pines stand
serried
THE SUSQUEHANNA.
like
20S
spearmen of Titanic mould

;
in
ambush; of winding banks, whose cun'es
are of the
most exquisite beauty
of broad sheets of brown water, swift and untamable, whose rapid

;
flow has never been subjected to the curbini^ of navigation

clothes with
river,
of a superb vegetation, that banks, the

islands
equal
splendor the valley and

here
the
hill-tops, the
of the
and the
undulating plains
and there breaking through the leaguer of the
mountain-ranges.
All these attractions
these
;
gifts
of a tender, loving mother Nature
have
been
bestowed
upon the Susquehanna
and the tourist
who
has
drunk them
in
Above Columbia.
with
rapture would be loath to exchange
them
for
mountains that invade the
skies,
and
whose
the
sullen peaks are covered with a snow-mantle fringed with glittering glaciers.
is
For
Susquehanna
soft,
not only beautiful in
itself,
but
its
attractions
are
greatly enhanced
its
by the
silvery haze
through which they are presented.
This gives to
scenery an
fails
indescribable
charm, which defies alike the pencil and the pen, but which
never
to
make
It
itself felt
by the
heart.
must be admitted
that
all
of the Susquehanna scener>-
is
not beautiful.
The end-
2o6
ing
is
dull
and prosaic
and
the long stretch south of
Co-
lumbia, in
ty,
Lancaster Coun-
Pennsylvania, to
Havre
de Grace, in Maryland, presents
nothing
worthy
of
commemoration by
cil
the pen-
or
comment by
can be
the pen.
is
All that
seen
broad stretch of brown waters,
and
bare,
dull
banks,
with patches, here and there,

of luxuriant vegetation, and
intervals of cultivated ground.
Above Columbia, commences the beautiful land.
Here
a junc-
several railroads
tion,
make
and the trunk-line then

of the riv-
follows the path

er,
which
is
due northward.
the
hilly
Here
we
meet
country
waves
called
of the main
ranges of the
tains,
Blue
Moun-
so
because, be-
ing
wooded
to
the
very
summits, an unusual amount

of the cerulean haze
is
seen
by the
eye
hills
at
distance,
and the
ly
appear intense-
blue.
The
over
Muse who
geographical
ratified the
presides
baptisms has not
nomenclature of the people,
and
of
"
has
ignored
the
name
Blue
the
of
Mountains," preIndian
"
ferring
denomia
nation
Kittatinnies,"
is
it
word which
nounce than
easier to pro-
appears, and
THE SUSQUEHANNA.
has
a
soft
207
swell
about
it,
very
the
pleasant
to
the
ear,
like
most of the
runninti:
alonsj;
old
Indian
eastern
for
names.
The
railway
river,
skirts
base
of
the
these
mountains,
its
the
bank of the
inspection
and
affords,
from
the
windows of
the
cars,
rise
ample opportunities
and
admiration.
To
right,
mountains
up
in
grand,
rounded
masses, with an inexhaustible wealth of noble trees

see such superb forms of vegetation as
down
their sides.
Nowhere can one
on the
side of a mountain, for here thev are fully

tall,
developed, whereas in the forests they
grow
spindling, having excessively

in the middle.
thin trunks,
for
and a head of small branches, but nothing

air
;
They
arc
choked
want of
that
and
so
they
aspire
toward
the
sky,
having
no
marked
development
save
Glimpse of the Susquehanna, from Kittatinny .Mountains.
which
is
upward.
But on the mountain-side every

in
tree
has
all
the airy food
it
needs;
and so they become perfected, and put forth

every
split
every direction, having superb branches on
side,
and great roots that clasp with
intense
embraces masses of
is
solid
rock, often
asunder by this twining.
On
the bowlder-covered ground
a superbly colored car-
pet of
many kinds
of undergrowth convolvuli and cree])ers, wild grape-vines and huckledifferent
berries, flowers
of a hundred
kinds,
and humble strawberries that cling to the

points of crimson
fruit.
ground
as
if
to hide themselves
river,
and
their delicate
On
the
left
hand mshes the

trade which
in
sweeping onward to the

is
sea,
bearing
no
traces
of that
lumber-
the upper parts
all
in
all.
Scattered over the surface of the gleaming
208
waters
fairly
are
islands,
too
small
to
be
habitable, covered with
the densest vefretation, that
glows with vivid hues of orcen.

often
if
Around
the edges of these islets these

rushes,
gems
the
if
of
the
stream are
bands of l)road-leaved
that
sigh
plaintively
as
wind
one
busi-
passes over, as
there was nuieh excellent

it
music
in
them, like
its
Hamlet's
flute,
knew how
to get
out.
Onward
rushes the train with
freight
of tourists
and
ness people, and

vania,
soon
reaches
Harrisburg, the political capital of the State of Pennsylthere

are
and a thriving manufacturing town, where

It
is
many chimneys vomiting

rix'er,
volumes of black smoke.
built
along the right bank of the
the
houses of
occu-
stream. the principal inhabitants being on Front Street, which faces the
The town
Dauphin Rock.
pies
the
ground between the
river
and the
hills,
which
here
retreat
considerably.
The
foot-hills,
or low spurs, are close to the city, and are beginning to be built upon.
is
Brant's Hill
almost
in a direct line
is
with the crest of ground, in the centre of the

city,
town, on which the capitol
built;
and the
therefore, can be seen
most excellently
from
this
point lying,
is
indeed, spread out before one like a panorama.

it
But the view from

see the Susquehancapitol.
all
Brant's Hill
open to the serious objection that one cannot from

and
its
na, its bridges,
islands.
To
view these, one must be on the cupola of the

Brant's Hill, not only can
From
city,
this position,
its
still
more elevated than
one survey
the
with
climbing
spires, its
massive manufactories, and their aspiring chimnevs, but the
THJi
SUSQUEHANNA.
%ii^.;5g.
21
'k%
huge,
undulating
glorious
flanks,
covered
noble
with
oaks,
pines
and
spreading
hickories
and
dark
places
hemlocks.
These are the

trout
-
where
the
streams
come
singing through the ravines,

their
murmuring
pines
for
thanks
to
the
their
shelter
and comof
the
in
panionship.
The
is
water
too
the
Susquehanna
No,A
Point.
warm
summer - time
favorites of the
for
speckled
hunter, and they
all
fly
for
refuge
into
these
these
little
mountain - streams, which are

meandering waters there
muzzles, so
is
still
still
their
summer
still
resorts.
Along
and
to
for
the
banks
of
pleasant,
their
are
deer
feedmg,
bears
this
occasionally
show
in
black
that
the
name which was given

is
gate
of the love
river
it.
old
times
is
merited,
sport
and there
in
plenty of sport
the
those
that
But
there
better
ascending
mountains,
212
for
not
game, hut
for
scenery;
and, from
the-
overhanging' branches of the

niton
trees
that
crown the slopes of the

that
Kittatinnies,
gazing
the
ghmpses
water
of
the
Susquehanna
passed out
open
out
all
far
below.
All
the
rush
and roar of
tlie
has
then
of hearing;
the furv, the vexation, and the struggle of the im])risoned stream has disStill
appeared, and the waters seem to slumber peacefully beneath the kisses of the sun.
more
fire,
exquisite
is
it
in
the moonlight
and
many
a hunter, from the solitude of his

river,
camp-
has watched the white beams stealing over the ripples of the
to
and transmuting
them
hills
;
molten
silver.
is,
The gap proper

fact,
is
the last gate-way cut by the river through the
but there
battled
in
a succession of gaps,
;
through which the Susquehanna

ranges
lie
in
its
times
path,
past
fiercely
every spring-time
hills
for three distinct
right across
which runs due south, the

district
sweeping from northeast to southwest.
Hence
the
gap-
extends for nearly thirty miles.
At Dauphin Point
is
perhaps the most tremenare considerably
dous of these mute evidences of the past struggle.

higher than
at
Here the mountains
the
commencement
of this region, and the forms are very

rock, jutting
are
much
trees
bolder.
There
is,
in
parts,
all
an
appearance of castellated
out
from
are
the
truly
which
grow over
and
the
the
mountains.
Here and there

softer,
crags which
precipitous;
these, contrasting
with the
of
in
milder features of the only heighten
mountain
the
do not oppress
general
effect,
senses
as
with high
feeling
awe,
a
but
and
intensify
acting
in
lights
do
picture.
Here the
left
railroad
that
accompanies the Juniata

this
her wanderings crosses over to the
side
of the
Susquehanna, leaving
stream
altogether at
Duncannon, where
it
unites with the

is
bold,
whelming, brown flood of the

;
big
river.
The meeting
huge
hills,
of the waters
the termination of the gap-region

river,
it
for,
although
there
are
and plenty of them, along the

ranges.
is
not crossed in the same
manner by any succession of main
The
scenery
now
takes on a
much more composed
aspect, for,
from
this point
up
to
Northumberland, where, according to the language of the country, the
river
forks into
North and West Branches, the
hills
retire,
and the banks of the stream are
for the
most
part bordered by foot-hills, which are cultivated with a careful, intelligent husbandry, that
makes
tall
this
part
of the country of a
most smiling appearance.

in
Cornfields
wave
their
hills,
stems
to
in the
lowlands
;
wheat whitens
broad patches along the slopes of the
up
the
summits
and the
vicinity of the stream,
where the
richest soil
is,
will
gen-
erally be
found occupied by tobacco, which flourishes here surprisingly.

foot-hills
As one
less
approaches
Northumberland, however, these

acter, until, at the actual
become
larger, higher,
and
pastoral in char-
point of junction of the two rivers, those on the east bank are
in
is
actually precipitous
and, moreover, they are ruder
appearance than
elsewhere, being
almost entirely denuded of timber.
The
scene here
a very interesting one.
The West
Branch
at this point
runs due north and south, and receives the North Branch, running
latter
is
nearly due east.
The
is
very nearly as
large
stream
as
the
former
but the
majesty of
its
union
somewhat marred by
a large, heavily-timbered island, which occu-
PINE FOREST ON
WEST BRANCH OF THE SUSQUEHANNA.
14
The whole
rouion
is
pies the centre of the current.
permeated by canals which abound
with locks.
The
canal-boats here have to
make
scxcral crossings, and there arc always a
few
idlers, at
the ends of the lontj
wooden
bridges to watch them crossing the streams.

is
Everywhere around Northumberland

the lumber-region
ters of the
;
are strong hints that the tourist

is
getting into
and the next
jioint
of importance, VVilliamsport,
the very headquarof

left
lumber-trade in the eastern part of the United States.
The West Branch

due west, and has
River,
the Susquehanna at this place has taken a bold, sweeping
curve
behind
it
a spur of the Alleghanies.

float.
Here comes
in the
Lycoming
down which
thousands of logs
But down the Susquehanna come hundreds of thousands of

all,
oak and hemlock, and, above

port
;
of pine.
at
One
the
cannot see much

see
live
pine at Williams-
but
size
down by
the river-side, and
boom, one can

street
nothing
but logs of
every
and length.
The
if
children
of the
play
upon them,
fearlessly
jumping
from
there
one to the other, as

undoubtedly
is,
there were
no
cold, black
water underneath.
the
But, though
it
cannot
plain
be
discerned.
Wide
timlier.
hills rise
as
space
is,
the
eye
is
catches
visible.
nothing but a low, wide
covered
with
Of water
not
speck
Close by the opposite bank of the river the

side
is
up very grandly, but on the other

Susquehanna
at
of the
town they
It
are
far
away, for the valley of the

little
this
is
point
also
quite broad.
begins to narrow a
as
we approach Lock Haven, which

It is a
lumber-place
minor
sort
of Williamsport.
very charming
little
place, very
bustling, very thriving,
and more picturesque than the larger towm of Williamsport.

is
The
falls
canal
at
Lock Haven
fed with water from the
Bald-Eagle -Valley Creek, which

far
here into the big river, after traversing the whole valley from Tyrone, not
from
the
is
head-waters of the Juniata, the principal tributary of the Susquehanna.
Lock Haven
on the
side,
left
or south bank of the river;
and the railroad here crosses over to the north

distance.
it
and continues there
for a very considerable

river,
Very
in.
shortly after this cross-
ing, the
mountains come down upon the
and hem
These are several thousand

pleasing by grandeur
the
feet in height,
and present
a singular variety of
forms all, however,
more than
sublimity.
At North
Point, especially, the mountain-forms fairly arrest

itself
eye of the most phlegmatic.

sugar-loaf
;
In one direction, one mountain proudly raises

is
like a
;
in
another, the side
presented, and
it
is
not unlike a crouching
lion
in a
third, the front is
shown, and the mountain then turns

it
in so peculiar a fashion as to units
cover
its
great flanks, giving
the appearance of an animal lying down, but turning
head
in the direction of the spectator.
Close by
is
another pyramidal-shaped mass, whose

character,
body meets the flank of the former, forming a ravine of the most picturesque
where the tops of the
an angry lake.
pines,
when
agitated by the breeze, resemble the tossing waves of
The
trees
along the
Susquehanna
are
now
of various
kinds
oaks,
pines,
maples,
hickories, hemlocks, tulip-trees, birches, wild-cherry,
etc. but the
lumberers
say that the
pines were the indigenous children of the
soil,
and that the others have sprung up since
FERRY
-NOVO.
2i6
they were
the
felled.
This, perhaps,
all
is
so
for, in
places
where there
is
no access
it
to the river,
woods
are
of pine.
The lumberers only
cut the timber where
can be rolled
to the timber-
down
or hauled to the river, to be floated with the
whelming spring-floods
which
offer
yards of Williamsport
and Lock
Haven, so
that those places
no favorable
opportunities of this kind are altogether spared.
Those persons who have never wandered

place.
up
mountain covered with pine-trees have no conception of the sublimity of such a

is
There
with
a
a silence, a solemnity, about
pine-wood, which
the
ear
at
once impresses the senses

are
sentiment of awe.
life
In
other
forests
and eye
greeted
with
many
is
sounds of
and glancing forms.

It
But through the dim

its
aisles of the tall
pines there
is
neither sound nor motion.
has
own atmosphere,
also, for
the air around
loaded
it
with the strong fragrance which these trees breathe
forth.
To
speak with candor,

it
is
overpowering to delicate
tion.
nostrils
but for strong, robust natures

love
for
has a wonderful attrac-
The lumberers have

artists fully share
is
a passionate
the
"
piny woods," as
they
call
them,
which
with them.
all its
But, superb as
the sight of a pine-wood in

right
pristine splendor, the spectacle

is
of one, after the lumberers have been felling
and
left,
by no means admirable.
The ground
that
was once carpeted with the

is
delicate white stars of the one-berry flower
and the low glories of the wood-azaleas,
now covered with
chips and bark and twigs,

useless.
and
is
trees felled but
abandoned, because discovered to be unsound and
The
place
slaughter-house, and the few trees that have escaped serve but
to
intensify the un-
pleasant aspects of the scene.
Accommodations
fisher,
in the
lumber-region are not of the best
and the adventurous troutIt

is
though he
will
have plenty of sport, will also have plenty of annoyances.
emlate
phatically a land
where you can have every thing that you bring along with you.
Of
years the railway
company have become
alive
to
the
natural
advantages of their route

recently erected
a
and the influence that beautiful scenery has upon

fine
traffic.
They have
hotel
at
Renovo, which
is
the
only
stopping-place
of importance
between
resort,
Lock
being
Haven and Emporium.

located
beautiful
at
This almost immediately became a favorite summer

river, in
most picturesque point on the

in
at
the
immediate vicinity of many

the
mountain -streams,
which
the
is
trout
shelter
during
in
hot
weather.
The
valley
of the Susquehanna
rise
Renovo
nearly circular
shape, and
not very broad.
The mountains
picturesque,
tifully-kept
in
up almost perpendicularly
bank being low and
parterres
from
the
south
hotel,
bank,
which
is
most
the
other
shelving.
The
surrounded
by beau-
lawns adorned with

although
of the
in
of brilliant
flowers,
becomes a marked point
the
landscape,
-
the
early
summer
;
its
blossoms are put to

at this
shame by
of
the
the
wild
flowers
are
surrounding
mountains
the the
for
time
the
slopes
giant
hills
everywhere
large
covered with
pale-purple
rhododendrons,
the
which,
when
color.
aggregated into
Later,
masses, fairly dazzle

flowerets
eye
with
excess
of splendid
when
all
the
of the
wild-woods are
small
and
insignificant, the
buds
SCENES ON THE NORTH BRANCH OF THE SUSQUEHANNA.
2l8
North Branch of the Susquehanna,
at
H unlocks.
around
of the
cultivated
lawns
come
forth
and
renew the
rivalry with the wild scenes

rises
them more
ty-three
in a
successfully.
feet
Just opposite the hotel a mountain

in
to
height of twena
hundred
one vast slope of living green, ascending without

is
break
grand incline right up from the water's edge, whose brown flood
reflect the entire outlines of the
is
not
here
broad
enough to
stupendous mass.
For here the

shallower
river
as
narrows
the
considerably, and
very deep under the
mountain-side, becoming
bed
THE SUSQUEHANNA.
approaches the northern bank.
"
2 19
The
httle
town of Renovo
along
the
is
stretched
Susquein-
hanna
side, its
breadth being
considerable, although
ley here
the valhalf a
must be
nearl)hills
mile wide.
The
on the
high
as
other side are not so

the
one that bids defiance to
the city folks in the hotel, daring,
as
it
were,
their
utmost
it.
efforts
to
is
climb
road,
up
and
As
there
no
plenty
of rattlesnakes, few people are
bold
enough
challenge.
side
to
accept
the
mute
other
But on the
the
valley
of
the
mountains are
and, in
sort
fact,
easily accessible,
are
the
daily re-
of
tourists
who
love
to
shoot, or
to
pick
blackberries
or
huckleberries,
in
which
last
grow
around
immense
quantities
is
Renovo.
There
m'ountain-road here which penetrates
through the country to
the
cross
southward, and the teams

the
river
in a dreadfully
is is
rickety ferry.
This
a species
of flat-boat, which
across
propelled
by a
man
hauling on a
rope
suspended from the high
south bank to a huge pole on

the
try
other shore.
days,
In the winthe
river
is
when
and
turbulent
the
winds
here
is
are
high, the crossing
not
the
Canal at Hunlocks.
very
jolly
pleasant
but
it
in
summer -tide
becomes
220
a
visitors
kind of pastime, and the

that
is
from laroe
eitics are
so
it.
amused
Tiie
at
tiiis
rude method
the
cen-
of progression
tre of the
they cross
repeatedly for the
fun
of
\ie\v
from
stream
beautiful exceedingly.
One
the
in
gets a better idea of the circular shape
of the valley, and
the
manner
there
are
in
which
hills
have
retired
to
let
the
little
town
have a foothold.
And
islands
the
channel
covered with beautiful mosses,
and stretches of shallow water where rocks peep up, on which gray cranes perch with solemn
air,
busilv
relief
engaged
by the
in
fishing.
The shadows
the water, and
of the
the
mountain's
bank, too, are
thrown into
form
a
sunshine
on
mountains to the westward

tints.
brilliant
background, with their tree-laden slopes brightened with golden
At
this
point,
though the eye cannot discern them

is
because
they are
hid
by the
mountains, the tourist

runs
in
the
as
immediate vicinity of numberless trout-streams.

Kettle
These
have queer names, such
Creek,
Hammersley's Fork, Young Woman's

etc.
Creek, Fish-dam Run, Wyckoft's Run, Sinnemahoning Run,

considerable
size,
The
last is a
stream of
and
is
one of the principal tributaries of the West Branch of the Sus-
quehanna.
the spring.
It
runs up beyond
Emporium, and much lumber
is
sent
down
its
current in
The Susquehanna,
from
its
after receiving the cold waters of Kettle
Creek, begins to
incline southward, and,
junction with the Sinnemahoning,

Clearfield.
rise
makes an abrupt turn

ceases
this
due southward toward the town of
From
from
is
this point
it
to
be a
river,
branching off into numerous creeks that

it
the
a
is
mountains of
region,
is
where
is
all
either
hill
or valley, and where a plain
rarity.
The
all
land here
cultivated
with care and success, but the prevailing industry

taining iron-ore.
mining,
the mountains here
con-
There
is
some considerable
difficulty in
floating
down
logs to the
is is
main
stream of the Susquehanna below Clearfield, and most of the timber cut
used for the

matle.
purpose
scenery
of smelting
is
or
for
forges,
where the charcoal hammered

imagined, the
iron
The
not so wild as might be
forms of the mountains seldom vaiy-
ing from somewhat monotonous grandeur, relieved by the beauty of the forest-trees upon
their sides.
But
for the geologist
the
region
is
singularly interesting, since
everywhere
are presented vestiges of the
grand
battles
of old
days between
the
imprisoned waters
and
their jailers, the
huge
hills.
To
due
describe
the
north
branch
of the
Susquehanna,
it
will
be
necessary to
retrace
our steps to Northumberland, the point of junction.

east,
The North Branch
runs here almost

pass
a
rushing right
of
is
through a majestic range of mountains, which
under the
consider-
generic
able
title
"
Alleghanies."
built
The
sort
it
railway
is
on the northern
the
side, and, for
distance,
on
of shelf at
base
of the
mountains, close to the

fringes
this
river's edge,
but separated from
by the Pennsylvania Canal, which

its
branch
here
pictu-
of the Susquehanna almost from

are far bolder,
sources
far
in
New-York
State.
The mountains
a
more rocky, and with
less
timber, exhibiting
huge crags of
of the
resque character, very unlike the small fragments that cover the
hills
first
Western Fork.
of importance
The many chimneys vomiting
black
smoke
at
Danville,
the
place
D a <n J J
222
is
the tourist reaches, remind liim forcibly that he

coal-cars,
not out
of the
iron-rciîon
and the
which pass him on the road,
tell
him
that
he
is
approaching-
the very centre

a
of the famous Pennsylvania coal-mines.
Beyond Danville
northern
side,
the river
makes
bend away
from the overhanging mountains

the
of the
and approaches more closely to
southern, which
are
far
more densely wooded, and have consequently many more
runs brawling and bubbling

its
down
their sides.
The
scenery here has a peculiar charm of
own, which
is
hard to describe or to
foot-hills
localize.
The
to
hills
on the northern bank are
distant,
but there are
that
come down
the
river.
These are often
culti-
vated, the fields of
com
being broken
by dark patches of waving pines and hemlocks.

In immediate proximity comes the canal
locks.
At
the foot of these
hills
runs the railroad.
a quiet, peaceable, serviceable servant of
commerce, vexed with few

dike of
little
Between the
canal and the river
is
only an
artificial
breadth
but this has either been

to
planted with trees and bushes, or Nature has sent her winged seeds there
to fructify,
take root,
and to render beautiful that which of

is
itself
was but
plain
and
insignificant.
This dike
to
quite a feature, impressing every eye with an idea of leafiness, which
seems
in
be
the
prevailing
charm of the
district.
its
Beyond
it
the
river,
some
feet
lower
level,
rushes vigorously onward to join

is
waters with
of a
clearer
those of the
hue, than
West
Branch.
Its
stream
more
rapid,
and
its
waves
are
that
which glides past

are
Renovo, Williamsport, and Lock Haven.
Rising up from the southern bank
wood-
covered mountains, boasting fewer oaks and hickories than

hitherto, but
we have
seen in our progress

evero-reens
silvery
having a sombre grandeur of tone from

is
the
more numerous
The extreme background
veiled by a soft haze, through

blue.
which the
river looks
and the mountains an ethereal

scape
is
At
times the
sweet sylvan character of the landdrilling
broken by
numerous gang of workmen
away huge blocks of

-
lime-
stone
stone.
for the foot-hills are of that structure,
though the mountain
ranges
are
of sand-
Again we come
to a rough, irregular stone structure, black as ink,
and surrounded
rather
all
by rudely-arranged scaffolding of a peculiar form.

can be seen externally of than a itw.
the
it.
This
is
a coal-mine, or
that
Of
first
iron-furnaces there are

like blots
many, and of
rolling-mills
more
These seem
at
upon the landscape, but they serve

finest
to diversify
monotonous beauty of the
scenery.
But the
points to the artist are the places
where the rushing, tumbling, foaming creeks from the mountains come raging down to jom the river, and to frighten the canal from its staid propriety, necessitating great enlarge-
ments of the dike and beautiful

eye;
for
bridges.
These swellings of the dike gladden an

fine, large
artistic
they
are
often
it
covered with
trees,
and
produce
are
all,
all
the
effects
of
islands hanging, as
were, over the brink of the river.
There
above
several
at
places
where
these bits of scenery
exist at
Mifflin, Shickshinny, but,

it
H unlocks.
so
Huna
locks Creek
is
it
not very long, but

is
has
commendable
a
breadth, and
its
is
precipitous
course that
carries
more
like
cataract
than
creek
and
turbulent, shallow stream a
down bowlders
of a most
respectable
size.
There
coal-mine
at
Hunlocks,
THE SUSQUEHANNA.
southern, and the effect from the lowlands on a level with the river
is
225
very grand.
The
hue
majority of the
is
hills
to
ihc
northward are not well
wooded, and
their prevailing
a dull, purplish
brown.
To
the south the mountains are better wooded, but the
slope
in
is
very considerable and the height not very great.
Between these the
river
winds
serpentine form, creating a thousand coups d\eil of transcendent loveliness.
For here we
^ --^.<S^ ^:xi^^
....
Wyoming
Valley.
are
hills
actuary entering the
famous
Wyoming
Valley, so
feet,
I
renowned
ml
the
as
for
its
beauties.
liie
The
and
are not high, never exceeding
two thousand
of form
the
banks of
river
the river itself form such combinations the most apathetic.
and
color
kindle the admiration of

is
The
railway
is
on
northern
bank, which
other,
the niorc elevated;

is
and, as the hills on this side are
more picturesque than the
it
impossible to get
226
the best view until
best for
tlic
river
is
crossed.
This the
railwny does
not
do; and
at
it
will
be
the
the
tt)urist
to
stop
at
Kingston
and cross over to Wilkesbarre,

ot"
once
centre of the anthracite-coal region, the centre
the
Wyoming
Valley, and one
of the
most charming and prosperous towns

There
vantage.
is
in
the country.
ojiposite the town, of
is
an island
in
the
ri\-er just
which the bridge takes adsees to the

left
From
beyond
a
the centre of this there

built
in
a lovely view.
One
the
Wyobank
of a
ming-Valley Hotel,
feature;
for half
it
Tudor
style of gray-stone,
and forming quite
picturesque
are
all
the houses
of the
local
aristocracy stretched
along the
flashing
mile.
fish,
At
this point the
ri\'er
makes
superb
curve, like
trees,
the
silver-sided
and disappears, showing, however, through the
broad patches of
a
striking view
first
gleaming white.
is
But
this is only
a slight
glimpse.
The
real
place
for
from Prospect Rock, about two miles behind the town, nearly
hills
at the
top of the
is
range of
on the southern side of the

jutting
crag,
river.
This
post
of observation
on the
survey
east-
summit of
the whole
and from
its
picturesquely-massed
bowlders one
can
of the
Wyoming
Valley, which, from
Nanticoke westward to
Pittston
ward,
for,
lies
stretched before the eye of the visitor like a lovely picture.

crest
It is
not
broad;
the
from Prospect Rock to the topmost
of the
first
range of opposing
hills,
distance, as the
six.
crow
a
flies,
is
not more than four miles, and the farthest peak visible not
Ikit this
is
gain
rather
are
than
loss
for
the views
that
are
so wide
as
to
be
bounded bv the horizon

beyond the winding
river,
alwa\s saddening.
Step by step the landscape leads you

i)lain,
and beyond the swelling
to vast
distances,
which melt by
a
imperceptible gradations into the gracious sky, and

that
is
impress the
heart with
conviction
all
just
beyond your powers of
sight
is
a better, nobler clime
lovely land, where

ixitiiarch
beautiful.
Such prospects seem indeed the ladder by which the
saw angels
ascending and descending.
They
fill
the
soul with
longing and despairing expectation.
They
It
is
stir
the dejJths within us, and send tears of a divine anguish unbidden to the eyes.
so
not
crests
with W^yoming Valley.

a
Its
sea,
narrow
steeped
boundaries
in
of northern
hills,
tossing
purplish
rest
their
irregularly like
billowy
clear,
distinct
hues
of a
brown, and ha\'ing every
line
and curvature plainly
in
sight,
compel the eyes to
within the green and smiling valley, dotted with countless houses, ever scattered sparsely or gathered thickly into smiling towns.
the sun lights
Through the points of

glides
like
brilliant light
with which
lady-mother,
up the white houses, the Susquehanna

there, but
gracious
making
soft
sweeps here and noble curves
ever
bordered
by fringes of deep,
emerald green.
towers
The whole
from
valley
is
green, save where the towns toss
up
if
to heaven their
in
and
spires
numberless
churches, and
collieries.
where behind,
as
hiding, black
mounds and grimy

of
spirit,
structures
un(|uiet
mark the
The
contracted view gives no sadness
stirs
no
heart, like
at
the
the
expanded prospect.
sight
Far otherwise: the soul

peaceful
itself
expands with love and pride
of so
much
is
beauty, so
much
prosperity and ha]ipiness, so
much
progress.
The beyond
out of sight, out of thought,
BOSTON.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
J.
DOUGLAS WOODWARD.
was
little
^T^HERE
-Its
of the
"
jjicturesque," to the
eyes of the
Puritan
colony which
coast
Hill,
took
up
abode
on
the
main
where
in
now
stand
Charlestown and
Bunker
the
bold, bald,
bleak, triple-hilled peninsula
which confronted them
on the southwest.
ritan,
It
is
true that one effusive Puin
with peripatetic habits, wandering
the late
spring-time
hood,
in
it
the
neighborof
hil-
found
possessed
the
^'^
" fair
endowments,"
Brewer Fountain, Boston Common.
locks "dainty," the plains "delicate and

"jetting
fair,"
and the streams "clear and

brethren
runnino-,"
and
most jocundly."
His
less
imaginative
esteemed the
promontoiy bare
2 30
and
drear,
even
in
the
sea-
son of budding and

ing Nature
describes
^x<
r--^
;
flower-
for
one of them
it
to be "a hideous
"^'
i''^ -j^ûl^'
if
il'^l'
wilderness, possessed
by barcold,
unfit
barous
sickly,
for
Indians,
very
rocky,
barren,
culture,
and
likely
to
keep the people miserable."
The Puritans named

with
prosaic
"
;
it,
sense,
"
Tri-
Mountain
called
it,
the
Indians
sugor
with
"
poetic
gestiveness,
"
Shawmut,"
"
;
Sweet
Waters
of
its
and
the
set-
gratitude
tlers,
earliest
who came
from
old
Boston of the fens of English
Lincolnshire,
christened
"
their
new abode
Boston."
The Charlestown
the
fered
colony, like
Israel,
children
of
suf-
from
exceeding
want
to
of
water,
-
and
moved
which
its
Tri
Mountain,
of
they
purchased
owner,
absurd
because
ters"
reverend
for
Blackstone,
the
sum
of
of thirty pounds,
the
"
sweet
wa-
w'hich
the
Indian
Shawmut
began to
its
promised.
e.xist
Thus
Boston, with
teeming
memories,
its
its
dramatic
history,
its
steady
pict-
growth, and
manifold
uresque and romantic aspects.
To
bay,
him,
however, by
who
the
approaches
it
Boston
difficult
is
to
distin-
BOSTON.
forests of
233
masts and funnels which
cluster
along the
East
and
North
port.
Rivers; but
its
extent and
of Boston
movement
betrays
its
give
evidence of a busy and

its
prosperous
The water-view
Large, many-win-
industrial as well as
commercial character.
at
dowed
factories, tall,
smoke-stained chimneys, appear
inter\als
throughout the stretch

south, to the limits of
fabrics,
of thick
settlement
from
City Point, in
South
Boston, in
the
East Boston and Chelsea, in the north, indicating the weaving of many
the fruits
of deft handiwork, and the transformation of the metals to useful i)urposes.
On
nesses of
its
harbor-side,
Boston exhibits
its
trade and industry,
its
al)sorption in the busi-
life,
the sights and scenes of engrossing occupation.

to
Transferring the point of

results, instead of
view from the eastern
the western
side
of the
city,
the
the pro-
^^^py>?^5?^^^v^::j'v;^_^: -y
Scene
in
the
Public Garden.
cesses, of
wealth appear.
From
the arch in the steeple of the Arlington-Street
Church
[picture
No.
3],
you gaze upon one of the most striking and noble scenes which any
American
city presents
scene of brightness, beauty, luxury, adorned

sculptural
fine
art,
b\'
the
elegances
of native
outline
of horticultural, architectural, and

taste,
enriched
by the
best
effects
and gifted
by
Nature with
all
contrasts
is
of elevation, declivity, and
scene which inckulcs
that of
which Boston
most proud
in
external aspect.
In the
immediate foreground
lies
the Pul)lic Garden, on a si)ace redeemed, within a quarter of a
century, from the waters of the
Back
Street,
r>a\'
fcjr,
up to that period, the waves reached up

from
the
nearly to
the
edge
of Charles
which separates the garden
Common.
is
Without possessing the pretensions of Central Park or Fairmount, the Public Garden
234
a
of a
park.
it
gem
It
is
not
certain that
its
now,
in
its
days of young growth,
it
is
not
more
lovely than
into
will
he
when
trees
have grown into leafv arches, and
its
clumps
of shrubs
opaque
;
copses.
Its
edges arc even iU)W lined with thri\iug trees along

in
the iron railings
winding paths lead
among
e.xciuisite
tlower-beds,
umbrageous
shrul)-
arbors provided with rustic seats, fountains plaving in marble basins, statues of
Washingrising
ton and Everett, and commemorative of the discovery of
ana^^sthetics,
and
"
Venus
from the Sea," about whose form the light
sprays
shimmers.
The
borders of the lawns are

plants.
adorned by beautiful combinations of vari-colored and vari-leafed

is
In
the
centre
pretty serpentine, crossed
by
heavy granite
bridge, and
ujion
whose waters there

let
float
swans and ducks, as well as canopied barges and queer

prices.
little
craft,
to the public
at
moderate
Close to the lake
is
a pretty conservatory^
blooming with hot-house
plants
the whole
park being enclosed in a setting of spacious streets and mansions, park
and mansions lending to each other the aspect of enhanced elegance.

den
in its
Beyond, almost hid-
wealth of mature foliage,
is
the
Common the
sides
old, historic, much-praised,

at its
and
laughed-at
Common rising,
by a graceful plane, to the State-House

hillocks,
summit, here
and there interspersed with

at
whose
peep through openings
in the trees,
and
whose
feet are broad, bare spaces for military
manoeuvres and popular out-door games.

halls
Behind the
Common
;
you catch glimpses of the steeples and public

the historic steeple of the
of
Tremont
from
[Tri-Mountain] Street
the
great
fire,
Old South, saved by

;
miracle
which
stopped
in
under
its
very shadow
;
the
steeple
of
the
Park-Street
Church, only
sonic Temple,
less
memorable
the annals of Boston
the comparatively plain, old

;
Malavish
now
used as a
United
the
States
court-house
and that noble and
specimen
of Gothic
rising
architecture,
far
pinnacled, granite,
new Masonic Temple,
rich
in
decoration, and
above the surrounding

of the
edifices.
last
On
the
left,
the aristocratic
majestically
Beacon Street
toward the
on
the
site
cow-pastures of the
century
rises
State-House
its
buildings piled irregularly one above another, of brick and
brown-stone and marble, of
many
Hub.
shapes and colors
the
this
street
of the
is
fiimily
antl
mon-
eyed
"high
society"
of the
at
The view
in
direction
most
striking.
To
him who has gazed,

rising to
Edinburgh, from Prince's Street along the high, piled-up buildings

castle, this
and capped by the hoary old
scene of Beacon Street, with the State-
House
at the top, vividly

cities.
resembles, in general outline and effect, that

difference
its
is
most picturesque
of British
The
principal
that, in place of
the hoary keep and ramits
parts, there is the big,
yellow dome, with
gilded cupola, and
iXmcrican Hag floating
from the top.
Boston
Common
Scarlet
Sacred
;
to
the
memory
of Puritan training-days, and the rumistern
nating of Puritan
cows
to the execution of witches, and

to fierce tussles with
reprimands of
old-time
the
women
to the
branded with
Letters;
Indians, and
duels;
intense exhortations of
nists;
George Whitefield, and the solemn

British troops,
festivals of
Puritan colonot
to struggles with
and the hanging
in
effigy of
red-coat toes;
BOSTON.
less
235
to
the
memory
"
of thousands of lovers, dead
and gone, from the time when
it
was
the favored retreat
where the Gallants, a

at
little
before sunset, walk witii their Marmalet-
Madams,
till
the
bell,
nine o'elock, rings
them home!"
critical
"small but pleasant com-
mon!"
says old Josselyn,
who saw
it
with his
English eye, fresh from
Hyde
Park,
it
just about
two centuries ago.
small, perhaps,
and certainly pleasant common,
still,
01(1
lilm,
Boston Common.
is
in these later days.
Indeed, for
city,
more than two
centuries the
Common
has
been the
re-
lung of the
sorts,
town and
the most central and the most agreeable of

people, and
nearly
fifty
its
open-air
at
once the jiromenade for grown

children.
the
play-ground
has
and coasting-tryst
of the
for all
;
Occupying
a space of
acres, there
been
room enough
city,
it
and, while the

its
Common
was long the outer western edge of the

and
s(]uares of stately
is
fast
becoming
centre, as the spacious streets
brown-stone and swell-
^.
front
upon the constantly-increasing "made land" mansions are gradually stretching out and the richness beauty of the natural position of the Common,
of the Back Bay.

of
its
The
soil,
have required
but
liltlr
art
to
make
it
charming park, gifted with

city.
all
the
variety
and pleasant prospect worthy of

hill
a great
is
and thriving
Street,
It
sweeps down the

is
slope of the
on the edge of which
Beacon
and
at the
summit of which
trees
the State-House-broken,
now and
then, by undulations
at
crowned by
Street,
and carpeted
south.
trees
Its
with softest .turf until

foliage
it
reaches a lowest limit

cultivation
Boylston
surpass.
on the
no
efforts
of artistic
can
anywhere
the
Many
of the
are
centuries old.
The noble rows

Beacon
of elms which, on
Great
Mall running
just
below
and
parallel with
side,
Street, rise to
a stately height, and,
bending toward each other
on either
fifty
years ago; while those of the
planted one hundred and form a grand, natural, arched cathedral-nave, were were Little Mall, running at right angles to the first,
set
century ago. out by Colonel Paddock, rather more than a
These
are the
two main
avenues.
The
thick, cool
;
shade
is
gratefully resorted
in
to
in
summer;
;
seats are ranged
along for public use
here
blind
Punch
revels
his
quarrelsome squeak
patent-medicine
and candy-venders,
their
in
and ^lung-testers, and
organ-grinders, and
still
men, ply
out-door
trades; mid here the "gallants"
walk, as of yore, with their
"madams"
is
the slowly-
deepening twilight and the
soft,
its
moonlit nights.
foliage
The Common
intersected by a
maze
of irregular, shaded avenues,

its
being spread thickly over the larger portion of

pains, are
surface;
while
as
its
expanses of lawn, kept with assiduous

of
the
as velvety
and
bright
green
those
boasted
its
London
parks.
On
its
every hand, the
Common
is
betrays ''evidences
and memorials of
it
venerable age and
teeming
history, as well as
of the tender care with which

ancient graveyard, with
is
maintained by modern Boston.
In one corner
an
and hoary tombstones, on which the inscriptions are half effaced,

as
if
which here and there lean over,

virtues of the forgotten dead
;
at last
weary of celebrating, to
vaults,
indifferent eyes, the
and with embedded
whose padlocks
are rusted,
is
and
whose
roofs are
overgrown with grass and moss.
Just behind the graveyard
a small,
of the forest graze, or sleep, encaged deer-park, where the nimble and graceful denizens of the curious passers-by, mild and tame, and apparently indifferent to the gaze
or eat,
who
linger a
is
moment
the
"
at the
grating to watch their movements.

bit of
Near
the centre of the

a
Common
locks,
Frog-Pond," a much-abused but pretty

foot
water, provided with
fountain and a granite lining, situated just at the
of
in
one of the umbrageous
hil-
and always a pet resort

its
for
the
children,
who,
summer,
on
its
sail
their
miniature
yachts and frigates on
clear waters, and, in

still
winter, skate
a
gldssy surface.
a
Hard
by the Frog-Pond
of history.
is
the
proud "Great Elm,"

its
wonder of Nature, and
landmark
For more than two centuries
immense trunk and wide-spreading limbs
have been the admiration and the shelter of Bostonians.
An
sear,
iron
railing
preserves
it
from rude abuse

nificance,
an inscription
tells
of
its
venerable but
is
unknown
but
age,
still
its
historic sig-
and
perils
by wind and storm.
It
jagged and
stands vigorous
BOSTON.
241
end
stands
of
the
the
street
yet
more
South
and
historic
Old
staid
Church,
plain,
which
Burgoyne turned
soldiery, after
into a riding-school for
the
to
lin
British
light
using the
pulpit
and
pews
fires,
where Whitefield preached and Frankfire
worshipped, and, since the great
of 1872, servis
ing
the
the
site
purpose of the post-office
and just around the corner from the Old South
of the house wherein Franklin was born.

historic
relics
The
of old
the
Boston
some
of
of which, to be sure, have passed out
of
existence, swept
away
l)y
exigencies
modern convenience
;
are
the
is
to be found scat-
tered
over
the
northern
and eastern
of State
end of the peninsula

and the northern
but
limit
tortuous
region
included between the head

thickly
Street
perhaps the most

the
studded
in
with
memorable spots and ancient mementos.
At
head
itself
of
State Street,
pile,
"
the middle of the thoroughfare, stands
the old State-House, a grave old
with a
belfry,
looking
down
gravely
is
upon the haunts of the money-changers and

centre
solid
men," for
shops,
whom
State Street
the
and
nucleus, and
now
given
up
to
tailors'
telegraph
and
insurance
offices,
lawyers'
chambers, and
lane,
the
Merchants'
Reading-room.
Passing from State

edifices,
Street
through a narrow
you come upon the
most notable of Boston

constant
standing in a somewhat narrow square, surrounded by a

preserving
still
and
iuirried
bustle
of trade, but
the
architectural,
and,
in
measure, the useful features of a
century
as
and
"
more
ago.
Faneuil
Hall, built
is
and pre-
sented
to
Boston
by
Peter
Faneuil
town-hall
and market-place,"
a town-hall
244
of
comprising the old
forest-trees,
it
and much also due to the careful cultivation of sucin
ceeding generations.
Perhaps nowhere
America
arc tlic
English
arts
of
lawn
and
is
hedge
culture, of
garden decoration, more nearly imitated, or more successfully.

in
There
the greatest variety
exterior
adornment, as there
sciuare,
is
in
architectural
design.
In the
midst of large areas of lawn
and copse, the
compact, little-ornamented, sloping-
roofed mansions of a century ago are

witii
followed by imposing, newly-constructed mansions,
fanciful
French roofs and towers, an
amplitude
of verandas, and the protuberance

far
on
all
sides of jutting bay-windows.
In some of the suburbs are estates which would

dated from the Conquest
;
from shame an English duke

lining
tire
who
with
their roods of
hedge
roads, their broad avenues,
winding through ravishing pi-ospects

conservatories
for half a mile

ter-
before reaching the mansion, their large

races,
and cottages, their close-cut
and
their gardens
abloom,
suburbs
in
the season, with rare flowers and a wealth
of native
shrubbery.
Any
"
of the
may
of
"
be
reached
in
by
rail
from
;
the
centre of the city
within half an hour, and

families
most
them
half
that time
and here the heads of old
and the
merchant-princes
delight to vie with each other in the beauty and refine-
ment of
bor,
their home-surroundings.
The suburbs
of
Dorchester, which
overlooks the har-
and of Roxbury, next west from Dorchester, both of which are now included within
the citv boundary, occupy the higher elevations in the immediate vicinity of Boston, and,
although so near, afford

depths of the country.
irreo-ular
hills
;
many
Both
retreats
where one may
easily
imagine himself
in
the
are
built
on the sides and summits of rather jagged and

the
State-
and,
if
we once more compare Boston with Edinburgh, and

Castle,
it
House
Hill.
to
It
is
Auld Reekie
may
be
said
that
Roxbury
well
represents Calton
the most thickly settled of the southern suburbs, and has a pretty and busy
business square; advancing beyond this,

up-hill, or
you walk along shady
streets,
taking sudden turns
plunging downward with an easy or sharp descent.

the eminences of Roxbury, the almost
plain, lying
it,
Next beyond
is
flat
expanse of Jamaica Plains

shadily
reached.
But the beauty of the

pretty
coseyly and
a
among
a circle
of
hills,
with
streams
flowing thi-ough
with
grateful variety of home-like resiis
dences, wide, airy, and tree-lined streets, and a snug appearance which
ceptible here than
even more per-
upon the
heights,
is
not
less
attractive
than the more lofty suburbs.

turf,
Many
the
a quiet, rural nook,
where the
of the
idler
may
sprawl upon the yielding
and angle,
of
meditate, or read, forgetful
nearness of the big, bustling metropolis, or even

just aside
more contiguous suburban settlement, may be found
from the village of
Jamaica Plains.
The most
attractive spot in this suburb

hills
is
i)lacid lake,
lying between the plain on

foliage,
one side and sloping
on the other, fringed with overhanging
broken here and

or
old-fash-
there by well-trimmed lawns, which stretch
down from
then
picturestiue
a
bit
cottages
ioned mansions to the water's edge, with

place, in
now and
of sandy beach.
while,
in
Here take
"Jamaica
summer, suburban regattas and much boat-rowing,
winter,
BOSTON.
style of picturesque archi-
247
tecture
line
is
in
which Brook-
wanting, from the
Elizabethan to the
sard.
Manwith:
Nor
is
it
out historic edifices

house, the ancestral
one
resi-
dence of the Aspinwalls,
which
wide,
still
stands
field,
in
open
near the
centre of the town, sturdily supports its

turies' existence.
two cenBrookfor
line
is
as
noteworthv
its
the beauty of
churches
as for the air of luxurious
comfort
which
its
resi-
dences betray.
The
ave-
nues leading- from

ton
Bos-
"Back Bay" through
Brookline are the favorite
drives
of
the
city
people, and, on
afternoons,
are
pleasant
crowded
turnouts,
with
showy
horseback-riders, and famil\-
carriages.
The
old
reservoir
crest
occupies
a
the
hill,
it
of
noble
and the drive around

is
full
of pleasant
prosres-
pects
while the
new
ervoir,
"Chestnut
on
the
Hill,"
lying
northern
is
edge of the town,
sur-
rounded by broad roads

along
the
granite
em-
bankments,
and
affords
an agreeable limit to the
248
drives from the citv.
The
public
l.uildin.us
..f
lirookline, mainly consisting of the

tor the tastefulncss of
new
and
Town-Hall and
their
ihc
Public Library, arc striking
their design,
style, the
combination of beauty and convenience.

being
is
Both
a
are in
tiie
iMcnch
Town-
Hall
lofty,
of granite,
little
and capped with
high
Mansard
roof,
facade.
The Public
pretty,
Library
snug
edifice
of red brick, with
Mansard
and having a
V-
=^
Washington Elm, Cambridge.
close-cut
lawn
in
front.
The
village square, lined with
tall
brick and
wooden
stores,
is
one of the brightest and

one end of
it it
pleasantest of the
many
village
squares around
Boston.
At
is
the railway-station,
whence
trains start every
hour
for
Boston, reaching
the
square, in
all
in
fifteen
minutes,
and returning quite
as
frequently
and from
directions, the streets branch off
irregularly, invariably lined
with shade-trees, and betray-
ing the evidences of domestic taste and comfort.
BOSTON.
249
>X
Fresh Pond, Cambridge.
Beyond Brookline the

flows through
flat,
rivej-
Charles
marshy
tracts,
westward
from the Back Bay, to the
hilly districts of
;
Wr
CamCambridge
tham and Auburndale, some miles beyond

on
its
northern bank,
lies
the University of
plain,
bridge, situated
on a broad
the
extending from
wears
the
the
Charles
to
eminences of Somerville.
streets,
its
same
aspect
all
of
the
umbrageous adornment, spacious

Boston
edifices
and
elegant
is
mansions, characteristic of
University,
suburbs
and,
nearly
in
centre,
in
Harvard
spacious
with
park.
its
various
are
standing,
without
apparent
order,
a
a
and
ago
;
shady
bright
Here
plain, old, brick
dormitories, built
;
more than
century
new
Dane
;
dormitories,
buttresses,
with
much ornament
a
;
Gothic, granite
library.
Gore
Hall,
;
with
pinnacles,
and painted windows

the
law-lectures
are
the
picturesque Appleton
its
Chapel
the cosey
Hall,
where
square,
given, with
;
heavy
pillars
and severely plain front
the
marble recitation-hall
various styles, for the
natural
the solid granite

different
anatomical
museum
and other large
edifices of
uses
of the university.
The high
elms, forming majestic

purlieu,
archways, the
quiet
that
reigns
throughout
the scholastic
llie
the
singular
contrasts
between
the
new
103
buildings
and
the
old,
rare
collections
wliicli
have
r.so
PIC TURESQ UE
yriKiuallv
A MERICA.
ao;e
been
Ibrnuxl
fur
fenerations,
its
tlie
veneral>le
in
of
tlie
universitv,
its
illus-
trious catalogue of alumni,

" a visit' to
noteworthv share
the history
of the
nation all render
Old Harvard
Brattle
"
one of peculiar
Street, leads a
interest.
Beyond
the colleges a broad, wiml-
ino
thoroughfare,
in
past
comfortable
the
ami sometimes very handsome

cemetery of
dwellinos,
somewhat more than
mile, to
beautiful, hilly
Mount
Lake and Fountain, Mount Auburn Cemetery.
Auburn
old
but.
on the way, several places of note are to be observed.

poet
One
is
the grand
mansion now occupied by the
Longfellow, memorable
as
having been the
square, headquarters of Washington during the siege of Boston, a large,
wooden mansion,
garden behmd,
occuon,
painted yellow, with a veranda under wide-spreading elms at
one
side, a
and
a pretty
lawn extending to the
street
in
front.
The next house beyond was

till
pied by
Ur. Worcester, the compiler of
the
dictionary,
his death
while, farther
BOSTON.
251
Mount Auburn Tower.
toward
Mount Auburn, down

is
v.
a cool, shady lane,
the house,
-%
not
very
is
unlike the
Longfellow's,
*^'&
of the
which
Lowell.
ancestral
off
home
poet
Branching
Pond, a
from Brattle Street,
Fresh
lovely
expanse
of
is
water,
much resembling Jamaica Pond,

and thence
it
reached
is
but
a brief jaunt to the

"cities of
most beautiful
is
of
New-England
the
dead,"
hills,
Mount Auburn.
in
This cemeter)'
valleys
built
;
on the
and,
sides
and summits of graceful

has
and
the shaded
between
art
them
while
Nature
various
been
lavish
with
foliage
and picturesque prospects,
has bestowed
elaborate
every
and appropriate adornment.

grottos,
There are lakes and ponds,

an abundance
hijl,
tombs
and
monuments, nooks and
and
of
flowers,
quiet paths
beside modest graves, and, on the

trees,
summit of the highest

its
large
gray
tower rising above the
whence
panorama of Boston and

is
suburbs, for miles

city
around, opens upon the view.
Beyond Cambridge
the
new suburban
of Somer-
252
built
PIC lURESQUE AMERICA.

on the
ijranite
ville,
side
shaft
of a
of
hill,
ami
Hill
then
comes the
lon,<i,
tlat
citv
of Charlcstown,
with
the
Bunker
looming conspicuous
This, with
and
solitary
among
circuit
its
mass of buildings,
steeples,
;
and chimneys.
Chelsea, completes
the
of
the Boston suburbs
and, after one has
made
like
it,
he cannot but confess that the Pilgrim

rose,
wilderness
has
been
made
blessed
to
in
blossom
the
the
and
that
no American
picturesqueness
city has
been
more amply
beauty,
comfort,
taste,
and
of
its
surroundings.
Charlestown,
from Brighton.
LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE

CHAMPLAIN.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRY FENN.
TT
--
is
somewhat remarkable
that in the physical
conformation of our countr}' the northern part
should be studded with innumerable lakes, while
below the southern boundary of

this feature should disappear.
New -York
State
Apart from those

limits
lx)r-
grand inland seas which form the northern
of the Union, there are gathered within the

ders of
New York
unexcelled,
in
number
of charmin<r
l)ut
exarc
panses of water that

certainly
may
in
be equalled,
natural
attractions
by
any lakes
lakes
in
;
the
world.
There
are
beautiful
Maine,
in
m New
States
Hampshire,
there
and
in
Vermont
these
are, indeed, fa-
mous
contributions to our far-northern lake-sys-
tem; but
New York may
claim the palm, both

its
as regards the
number and beauty of
inland
waters.
It is
preeminently a State of lakes.
In
the
great
northern woods their

is
name
is
legion
and not only
the western boundary encircled

interior
is
by
lakes, but
the
fairly
crowded with
these beautiful miniature seas, of which
we have
only
to
mention Cayuga, Seneca, Canandaigua,

recall
Otsego, Oneida, to
to
the reader
suc-
cession of pleasing pictures.
Below
In
New York
the
lake
system
disappears.
Pennsylvania
there are
none much above the dignity of ponds,

these.
and but few of

there
are
In Northern
sheets,
New
Jersey
two handsome
one
of which
extends across the border into
New
is
York.
All
the vast mountain-region of Virginia, East Tennessee,
and North
singular
Carolina,
utterly
without
as
lakes
circumstance, inasmuch
the
254
conditions
for
llie
would
appear
of
to
exist
forniation
these water-
expanses.
Of
all
the
New -York
George
lakes,
Champlain
and
are
the
most famous
beautiful
in
historically, the
most
jMcturesque
features,
and
the
best
-
known
seekers.
to
tourists
and
pleasure
They
are
united by a narrow stream, through
which the waters of one flow into

the
other
and,
as
we
glance
the
at
them
lake
upon
the
map,
to
lesser
would seem
of
"
be
merely a
branch
the
larger
one.
The
name
a
dians
to
also
of
Horicon," which the Into
applied
"
the
lake,
;
is
said
mean
Silver
Water
"
they
for
"
it
had another designation

Andiartarocte,"
of the
t/l
"
meaning
It
is
the
Tail
o
Lake."
the
to
be
regretted
that
most
be
beautiful
O
of our
lakes
should
the
only
one without either

distinctive
a pleasing or a
name.
Had
the
lake
it
beenfilled
a a
less less
busy
scene,
had
place
important
in
our early annals, the Indian name

of
Horicon
would gradually have

by
the
occasional
that
been
accepted
hunters
and
pioneers
its
would
thus
have
reached
a
shores,
and
attained
recognition
before
am-
bitious captains
had sought to imof

their
press
the
name
it.
far-off
also,
king upon
sought
to
The French,
it
rob
It
of
its
Indian
of the
designation.
was
they,
white
races,
who
first
discovered
LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLA/N.

it
;
255
waters
that
and so struck
it
were they with the transparency and clearness of

actually prized
its
its
they called
it
Lake St.-Sacrement, and

for baptismal
is
water so highly as to transmit
to
Canada
purposes.
in
It
Lake George
direct line, north of
situated
Warren County,
is
New
York, about
sixty miles, in
Albany.
a
thirty-four
miles long, from one to four miles wide,

feet.
and
is
said
it
to
have
depth, at
places, of
nearly four hundred
Its long,
narrow
form gives
the character of a
;
rivêr
rather than of a lake, or, at least, of the popular
idea of a lake
but
many
of our
lakes
have this elongated

in
tiie
form,
Cayuga and Seneca
being almost identical with
Lake George
general features of their conformation.
F-ort
George.
The waters
of
Lake George flow
into
Champlain by
narrow
rivulet
at
its
northern
extremity, the distance which separates the two sheets of water being not more than four
miles.
The
surface of
it
Lake George
is
dotted with
its
many
lift
small islands
one
for each
day
in the year, so
is
popularly asserted
while
shores
themselves into bold highlands.

mirror set in
The
lake
is
fairly
embowered among high
hills
brilliant
among
cliffs
and
its
wooded mountains,
clear
the rugged sides of which perpetually reflect their wild features in

"
and placid bosom.
Peacefully rest the waters of
Lake George,"
pellucid
says the historian
Bancroft,
"between
their
rampart of highlands.
their
In
their
depth
the
cliffs
and
the
hills
and the trees trace
images; and the beautiful region speaks to the
licart,
teaching affection for Nature."
256
Approaching- Lake George from the south, the tourist
takes
the
Saratoga
Railway
at
AUiany
tor Glen's Falls

is
thence the lake
is
readied by stage-coach, a distance of nine

seat
miles,
li the traveller
fortunate
enough to secure an outside
upon the coach, the
ride will
first
prove to him an entertaining one throughout, but specially charming will be the
its
glimpse of the lake as the coach approaches the terminus of

especial sensation
is
route at Caldwell.
One
in
reserve for him.
The
spacious Fort William
Henry Hotel,
head
is
situated
upon the
lake, witli
a
site
of the
old
fort
of the
same name, stands

spread
directly at the
it.
of the
noble expanse of
its
waters
out
before
The coach
driven with a sweep and a swirl through the grounds
of the
hotel, and,
suddenly turn-
ing a corner, dashes up before the wide and corridored piazza, crowded with groups of
people
all
superb
life
and animation on one side of him, and a marvellous stretch of

island
lake and mountain and
and wooded shore on the other

as the
its
such
he
picture,
in
its
charm and brightness and completeness,
New -World
charm.
sojourner's
traveller
rarely encounters.
is
The
scene,
moreover, never
seems
to
lose
Always there
vision
;
that
glorious
stretch
of lake
and shore
bursting
upon the
open
his
cannot
put
foot
upon the
without
piazza, he
cannot throw
hotel-window, he cannot come or depart,
there ever spreading before him, in the soft

for
summer
air,
that
perfect
landscape,
paralleled
beauty only by a similarly
idyllic
picture at
West
Point,
amid the High-
lands of the Hudson.
At Caldwell one may

the scene.
linger
many
days, learning
by heart the changing beauties of
There
is
a superb bird's-eye
view of the lake that may be obtained from the

lake.
summit of Prospect Mountain, on the southern border of the

well leads to the top.
trees,
road from Cald-
Formerly the view from
this
mountain was wholly obstructed by
but an observatory has been erected, from the summit of which a glorious picture
is
of the whole region
spread out before the spectator.

one,
for
art
Some
conception of this proswith

large
but views may be

pect
it
is
faint
struggles
always
inadequately
general
gathered
from the
first
illustration
accompanying
part
this
paper.
more
agreeable idea of the
conformation of the
this
southern
of the
lake
may
be obtained
by means of the second engraving,

the
view differing
it
little
from the one obtained from

stretches
piazza
of the
hotel.
This
prospect,
will
be
observed,
down what
is
called the
North Bay
(see initial picture), the
main course of the lake being shut from

is
view by projecting points of land, which form what

point
is
known
as the Narrows.
At
this
one of the most charming features of the lake a great cluster of

hundred, varying in size from a few feet to
is
islands,
num-
bering several
several
acres.
The
nearest
island to Caldwell
Its
known
as
Tea
Island, lying about a mile
distant
from the landing.
name
is
derived from a "tea-house" erected there for the accommodation of visitors,
but ol
which only the stone-walls now remain.
This island
is
covered with noble

;
trees,
and bordered with picturesque rocks.

saunter
Here
sit
parties
come
for picnics
here lovers
ripples
come
to
among
the shaded walks, or to
upon the rocks and watch the
of the
SCENES ON LAKE GEORGE.

104
^58
Lake George, South from Tea
Island.
transparent waters.
There are many beautiful islands dotting the surface of Lake George,
this.
but none more picturesque and charming than
There are several ways of enjoying the scenery of Lake George.
steamboat
makes a
day.
daily trip to
its
northern terminus, thirty-four miles distant, returning the
same
small pleasure steam-craft

;
may
also be chartered for an
independent exploration
of
its
of the lake
or,
if
one chooses, he may course the
entire
circuit
shores
with
row-boat or
sail-boat.
There are public-houses along the
route, at
which
he
may
rest.
sloop Island.
CLIAMPLAIN.
59
Lake George, North from Tea
Island.
The winds from
the mountains, however, are

care.
fickle,
and a
sail
must be managed with

expedition
it
more than ordinary precaution and

devised
But no more
as
delightful
could
he
than
sail
around
this
American Como,
little
wc
frequently hear
called.
The
wild and rugged shores, the charming
bays and indentations, the picturesque islands,
the soft beauty of the waters, the towering mountains

picture, full of a
all
make up
a continually
changing
hundred
thus
subtile charms.
One may,
relish
;
in
such an expedition, go prepared
to
camp
at night,
adding another
of
to
in
the
the
pleasure of the jaunt.
Campingseen
parties are a special feature
Lake George
summer months
they
may be
on almost
all
the larger islands, adding a very picturesque feature to the scene.
The Hermitage.
26o
PICTURESQUJi AMERICA.
Let us imagine ourselves on the steamer Minnehaha, gHding out
from
point
the
landing
at
is
Fort William Henry Hotel, on a voyage
down
a
the lake.
farther
in
Our
on
is
first
of interest
Island, so
Tea
Island, already described.
mile
and
half
Diamond
here.
called
on account of the
beautiful quartz-crystal found

is
abundance
Island,
Beyond
the
are
the Three Sisters;
and along the eastern shore

all,
Long
which
from
lake
appears no island at
the Three Brothers;
but the main shore.
We
pass Bolton, ten miles from Caldwell;
a richly-wooded island called
Dome
Island, near
Tongue Mountain,
Hermitage, or
which
forms the east side of Northwest
Bay;
and then come to the

has erected a neat
at
Recluse Island, where a gentleman from

trees,
New York
little
villa
among
the
and thrown a graceful bridge to a
dot of an island
imagined.
will
hand.
more charmis
ing situation for a
summer
sojourn could scarcely be
Near Recluse Island

detect
Sloop Island, so called

our
illustration.
for reasons
is
which the reader
readily
by glancing
to
at
There
no
prettier island in the lake.
We
is
now come
Fourteenthe Nar-
Mile Island,
at the
entrance of the Narrows, where there
a large hotel.
At
rows the shores of the lake approach each other, the space between being crowded with
islands.
This
is
one of the favorite portions of the lake

than a winding
sail
the tourist can have
no greater
pleasure, indeed,
islets.
around and among these wooded

is
and charming
Here
the
its
also,
on the eastern shore,

It
is
Black Mountain, the highest of the peaks that

base, although
line
lake-shore.
well
wooded
at its
frequent
fires
have swept
Its height
is
over
is
surface, while the
summit of the mountain stands out rocky and

hundred
feet.
bare.
little
over two
thousand eight
all
The view from

represented
the
summit
very
extensive, but, like
panoramic pictures, not

is
easily
by the
pencil.
The
ascent
is
laborious, but
often undertaken by tourists, guides being always ready for the
purpose.
Here
also
may
be
made an
agreeable diversion to Shelving-Rock Fall, situated

a
on a small stream which empties into Shelving-Rock Bay about

teen-Mile Island.
there
are
It
is
mile
south of Four-
a very picturesque cascade,

in
and
is
specially
It
is
appreciated
beautiful
because
spot,
very few water-falls
this
immediate
vicinity.
and
much
resorted to by picnic-parties.
;
Beyond Black Mountain we

little
reach the
Sugar-Loaf
Mountain
left.
Bosom
Bay, with the

is
village of
Dresden
and Buck Mountain on the
Buck Mountain
so called, according to report, from the tragical fate of a buck,

precipitous
side
which, being hotly pursued by a hunter and his dogs, leaped over the
tree below. of the mountain facing the lake, and was impaled on a sharp-pointed
The next
place
of
importance that
is
we
reach
is
Sabbath-Day
Point.
Why
this
tongue of land bears

so
this designation,
unknown.
It
was once supposed
to have
been
named because General Abercrombie,
in his descent of
the lake in 1758, in his expe;
dition for the capture of
Fort Ticonderoga, landed his troops here on Sunday
but
it
is
now known
There
period.
is
that
the
point
that
was reached by
the
place
him on Wednesday, instead of Sunday.

as
also
evidence
was known
tall,
Sabbath-Day Point
hill,
at
an
earlier
is
This tongue of land juts out from a
precipitous
just
beyond which

another
height.
hill
261
of
corresponding
space
is
The
as
intervening
known
Davis's
Hollow.
this scene
it
Mr
from
the
as
Fenn has sketched

the
north,
showing
just
is
declining afternoon sun

a flood
sending
the
of
radiance
through
hollow,
forming a rich and glowshadow.
ing contrast of light and
From Sabbath-Day
up the lake
tain
is
Point, the view
grand, Black
Moun-
assuming a commanding place
in the picture.
The next most

is
no-
ticeable
point
Anthony's Nose
hill,
a
rowed
can
ny's
bold,
title
high
is
whose
bor-
an offence.
rightful
There
be
but
one
Anthofor
Nose, and that we look
on the
Hudson.
Rogers's
Two
at
miles
be-
yond
abrupt
is
Slide,
another
a
rocky height,
point
where the lake becomes very narrow.
The steamer hugs

rocky
shore,
the pre-
cipitous,
the
narrow
passage forming almost a gate-way

to the
main body of the lake
for
those
who
enter
its
waters
from
the north.
its
fell,
This mountain derives

incident that be-
name from an
according to tradition, one Roa
gers,
ranger
conspicuous
Indian
"
in
the
French
and
War.
The
story runs 1758,
that, in
the winter of
he was
surprised
by
some Shod
pur.spot,
Indians, and
put to
flight.
with
suit,
snow-shoes,
and,
his
he eluded
to
this
coming
life
saved
vice.
by an ingenious dethe
Descending
mountain
J62
until
he
of
came
the
to
the
edge
he
precipice,
threw his haversack

the
ice,
down upon
buckled
and, without
his
un-
snow-shoes,
moving them, turned

and put
with
tlic
himself about
his feet again,
front.
them on
heels
in
He
then retreated by the

until
way he came,
the southern
ravine,
he
reached
a
brow of the
rock,
where he found
sped
in
down which he
escaped, and
away on
the
|*m%*i
on looking about, they saw
lieving
that he that
the ice toward Fort George.
The Indians
the
mean
set
while
tracks,
came
to
the
spot, and, seeing
double
of
concluded
cliff
that
they were
made by two persons

their
who had thrown themselves down

he
the
rather
in
than
the
fall
into
hands.
ice,
But,
Rogers disappearing
distance
on the
cliff,
and, be-
slid
down
the dangerous and apparently impassable
hastily
assumed
chase."
was under the
special protection of the
Great
Spirit,
and so gave up the
This
is
the story, but, of course, there are
numerous skeptics wlio throw doubt on the

that
narrative,
and not without reason,

fill
as
it
appears
Rogers was
notorious
braggart,
whose deeds and misdeeds

.Beyond
Rogers's
no
little
space in the local history of this region.

is
Slide
the
lake
narrow, the
shores
low and
uninteresting, the
LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAfN.
263
Davis's
Hollow,
Sabbath-Day Point.
water shoal, and soon the northern" border of the lake

landing
is
reached.
From
the steamboat-
Concord coaches run

of
to
Ticonderoga, on Lake Champlain, four miles distant.

a narrow channel, at Ticonderoga village, about
in
The waters
Lake George flow through

the
midway between
fall.
two
lakes,
is
tumbling down a rocky descent

here diverted, by a
a very picturesque
portion of the water
wooden
viaduct, for
it,
the
uses
of a
mill.
Mr. Fenn has depicted

sky,
this
scene at the hour
when he saw
with the sun just

waters.
sinking in the western
and
a twilight
shadow darkening the tumbling
The
i-m
Black
Mountain,
from Sabbath-Day Point.
264
of
tlic
vagueness
to
semi-light
gives, with
certain
charm of mystery,
melancholy tone
in
the
picture.
At another
hour, of course, the waters dance and sparkle
the light
but
't
11
there are
beauties in the gray

full
shadows of the evening
of a
sweetness and poetry of their own.

-f
-rj
Lake George has many

wmMAAy^
ciations
as
in
asso-
well
as
charms.
are
Few
more
'll:>ii
l;"'il'ii
places
our
with
country
associated
itt
historical
reminis-
cences, or so identified with legend
and
the
story.
Just as Scott has

of
made
teem
Highlands
Scotland
of
his
with the shadows

''I"
imagina-
tion,
Cooper has peopled the shores

lake
of this
with the creations of can
his fancy.
Who
wander along
4m
"3.
its
shores without thinking of Cora
and Alice, and Hawkeye, and, more

than
all,
of that youthful figure in

is
whose melancholy eyes

o
foreshad-
owed
the
.''
fate
of the
all
last
of the
lit-
Mohicans
erature
In
is
American
figure
there
in
no
so
enfull
veloped
of
poetic
mystery, so
as
statuesque
;
beauty,
Cooper's
the
Uncas
too
and,
on these
vulgar
place
shores,
frequent
nomenclature
to
should
give
like
an
heroic
name
that
of the
brave
and
beautiful
ers's
Mohican.
We
Hog
have RogIsland, Island,
Slide,
and
Flea
and
Sloop Island, and
and
Anthony's Nose, and Cook's

and Black Mountain
spot
Island,
but
on what
Uncas,
to haunt
have
Hawkeye and
whose shadows ever seem

the lake and
its
shores, impressed their immortal

fills
names
Lake George
was
first
large
place
in
in
the
colonial
history
of
New
York.
The
lake
seen
b)-
white
men
1646, the
discoverer
being Father Jagues,
who was on
265
Falls,
Ticonderoga Village.
his
way from Canada

a
at
to
perfect
treaty
with
the
Mohawk Indians. He
the
lake
country, to
arrived in a
canoe
festival
',i
the outlet of the

of
on the eve of the
Corpus
Christi,
and
named
it
"
Lac du
But,
Sacrement" (Lake of the Blessed Sacrament).

in
1609,
nearly
forty
years
earlier,
Champlain
had
his
heard of the
lake from the Indians, and, in

a
ascending that
lake
to
which
it;
now
hut
bears
a
name,
with
at
party
of
friendly
Indians,
he
endeavored
which,
reach
battle
occurred
Crown
Point
with
the
Algonquins,
although
victorious
for
the
Indian
allies
of the Frenchman, frustrated his design.
We
was not
hear of the lake being visited by various scouting-parties, and forming the channel
;
of communication between the Canadian French and the Indian tribes southward
until the
but
it
French
War
105
of
1745 that the lake came into conspicuous notice.

;
It
then became the great highway between the North and places southward
armies reached
266
its
borders and
silvery
were
transported
as
over
its
waters, but
yet
no conIn
test
had
stained
it
with
blood.
1755, General William Johnson, design-
ing
to
operate
Point,
its
against
the
French
at
Crown
reached
on
Lake
with
a
Champlain,
small
shores
army
and
this zealous
captain, with
the view
of asserting the supremacy of his sover-
eign
over
be
this
region, ordered
as
that
it
should
known
Lake George,
a
lit-
command which
erally
has been only too

here, the
obeyed.
While
French
partly
General
Dieskau, with an
Indians,
army
composed of
scene.
appeared
on the
twelve
Colonel
Williams, with
hundred men, was dispatched to meet

him.
battle
took
place
at
brook
Colo-
about four miles east of the lake.

nel
Williams
;
was drawn into an

killed
at
ampart
de-
bush
he
was
an
early
of the
conflict,
and the command

;
volved on
Colonel Whiting
to
retreat
at
was ordered
lake
;
the
main body
and
the
Dieskau
ensued
at
followed,
another
battle
the
place
where now
John-
stand the ruins of
Fort George.
son had thrown

of logs
;
up
a slight breastwork
this
defence
of
enabled him
French,
to
repel
the
attack
the
who,
after five hours' fighting,
were compelled
contest
a
fort
to
retreat.
After
this
was thrown
up
near
the
spot,
in
and
named Fort William Henry,

of the
honor
Duke
of Cumberland, brother to
the
king, the site
of which
is
now
oc-
cupied
by the hotel of the same name.
After this event
we
on
hear
the
of numerous
lake
minor
contests
and
its

shores.
CI/AMPLAIN.
267
The English
sent
scouting-parties
;
and troops down the lake

sent
the
French
them
up
the
lake
and hence en-
sued an endless number of collisions, with

not
a
few romantic incidents pertaining
thereto.
Among
these
contestants
later
was
one
Israel
Putnam, whose
of the
career in
the struggle
colonies for indepen-
^m
dence
all
the
world
knows.
Two
years
later, in
1757, occurred a
momentous con-
test at the
southern boundary of the lake.

of
The
Earl
Loudon was
forces
in
in
command
upon
in
of the
English
North America.
He
the
was planning
Canadas.
at
a general attack
Colonel
Munro was
Henry.
command
Fort William
Sev-
eral unsuccessful
attempts had been made
by the French
upon
the
fort
hut
now
General Montcalm, the French commander,
determined upon a concentrated

its
effort
for
capture.
He
embarked
from
Montreal with ten thousand French

Indians.
and
Six days were occupied

;
in reach-
ing Ticonderoga
the
then, after
some
delay,
trans-
main
to
body of the army were
ferred
Lake George, and ascended
the
lake in boats.
It is a stirring picture that
comes up before the
imagination
shores,
this
astir
placid sheet, these sylvan
all
with the
"pomp and
circumstance of war."
All was in preparation for defence at Fort
William Henry and William Henry

is
Fort
George.
as
Fort
described
a square,
flanked by four bastions.

built of pine-trees,
The
walls were
It
covered with sand.
mounted
five
nineteen
the
cannon
garrison
and
four
or
of
mortars,
consisting
five
hundred
men.
Seventeen
position
hundred
men
occupied a
fortified
on the
268
Looking south from Fort Ticonderoga, Lake Champlain.
site of the ruins
of Fort George.
The
siege lasted six days, but the
courage
of the
ing.
EngHsh
soldiers
was unavailto surren-
They were compelled
^MW^^^-^J^
der, the conditions
being that the garof the

fortified
rison and
the
troops
camp should march out with

ors
the hon;
of war, in
possession
of their arms and baggage
but
the Indian allies were uncontrollable, and a horrible massacre

_
ensued.
This bloody incident was soon followed by another
brilliant
spectacle.
In July,
1758, sixteen
thousand
fleet
men
assembled, at
the
boats,
head of the
descended
in
lake,
under General Aberto
crombie, and. in a
of one
the
thousand
of
stately procession
the
northern
terminus,
with
purpose
later,
it
attacking
Ticonderoga.
The
expedition
was
unsuccessful.
But, one year
General Amherst, with about an equal
force, traversed
the lake on a similar, and, as

forts
proved, more successful expedition.
His capture of the

in the
on Champlain brought peace to the shores of Lake George; but afterward

it
Revolution
l)ccame the centre of stirring scenes at the time of the Burgoyne invasion.
CIIAMPLALV.
269
?^^-
:..
Ticonderoga Landing.
It
is
-
only four
landins:
miles
from
the
steamboat
to
a
on Lake George
Ticonderoga, on Lake Champlain,

steamers
distance
traversed
is
by Concord
a
coaches
ruin
in
connection with
of the
on
both lakes.
in
Fort
that
Ticonderoga
is
picturesque
one
have
few historic places
.America
untouched by the hand of improvement and

Its
unchanged
few
so places
by
in
the
renovations
of progress.
crumbling walls arc
full
of history
.Vmerica, indeed,
war.
have
It
so
many romantic
built
in
associations, or
undergone
already
manv
vicissitudes of
was
1755
by
the
French,
who had
occupied
and
fiMtified
Crown
Caril-
Point,
on
the
lake-shore,
some ten miles
northward.
to
The French
called
it
lon
(chime
havê
of bells),
so
named
in
allusion
the
music of the
water-falls
it
near
758,
it.
We
already mentioned
General Abercrombie's attempt to capture
in
and
Lord Amherst's more

unable to maintain the
lish
successful
fort,
campaign
in
the
following
it
year.
The French, being
abandoned and dismantled

also
on the approach of the Eng1
forces.
Soon
after,
Crown Point was

two
for
fortifications,
abandoned.
lu'
ICnglLsh
enlarged
and
greatly strengthened the
expending thereon ten million
dollars, at that
time
an
immense sum
such
purpose.
The
fort
and field-works of Ticonderoga
270
After the cession of Canada, in 1763, the fort
extended over an area of several miles.
was allowed to
it
fail
into partial decay.
At
the breaking out
of the Revolution, in
the
eccentric
1775,
readilv
fell
into
the
hands
there
in
of
the
a
Americans, under
struggle, before
latter
leader
fort,
Colonel
Ethan
British
Allen.
In
1776
was
the
walls
of
to
the
between
under
and
Americans,
which
the
were
compelled
take
refuge
Lake Champlain, near Whitehall.
its
guns.
In
June,
1777, General
Burgoyne invested
it,
and, July 4th, having gained

fortifications,
possession of the
pelled
summit of Mount Defiance, which commanded the

to
it.
com-
the
garrison
evacuate.
In
September of the same
year, the
Americans en-
deavored to recapture
Defiance, captured
General Lincoln attacked the works, took Mounts

stores, but
failed
Hope and
of the
fort
many gun-boats and
to
get
possession
Lake Champlain, near Ticonderoga.
itself.
After the surrender of General Burgoyne,

fall
it
was dismantled, and from
that
time
was
suffered to
into ruin
and decay.
several
Mr.
Fenn has given
us
interesting
drawings of
this
relic,
showing,
is
at the
same time, the beauty and character of the surrounding

that vividly recalls a verse from
shores.
There
one picture
iirowning
LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLALV.

" Where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles
Miles and miles
271
On
the solitary pasture where our sheep
Half-asleep
Tinkle homeward through the twilight, stray or stop
As they crop
Was
the site of a city great and gay,
(So they say)."
But
all
artists delight
in
bringing these suggestions of peace
in
contrast with the asso-
ciations of strife.
We
are
now on Lake Champlain.
There
is
a very striking difference in the shores
Crown Point and Port Henry, Lake Champlain.
of the
two
lakes.
lie
On Lake George
in
the
mountains come down to the edge of the

cliffs
waters, which
plain
left,
embowered
an amphitheatre of
in
and
hills
but on
to
Lake Chamand
there
leaving,
are
mountain-ranges stretching
tiie
parallel
lines
far
away
the right
between them and
lake,
wide areas of charming champaign country,
smiling with fields and orchards and nestling farm-houses.
There
are
on Lake Champlain
noble panoramas
the
one
is
charmed with the
shut-in sylvan beauties of
Lake George
but
wide expanses of Lake Champlain
are,
while
different
in
character, as
essentially
beautiful.
It
is
is
in
every way a noble lake.

too
petty and confined
;
Ontario
is
too
is
large a very sea

not
so
large
as
Lake George
lose, for the
perhaps
but Champlain
to
272
voyager
cither
upon
its
waters, views of
shore,
nor
so
I
sinull
as
to
contraet
and
is
limit
he
|)rosi)ect.
The
leriffth
one
its
hundred
widiii
miles.
it
and
never
twenty -six miles,
more
than
thirteen
The
Tieijnloses
traveller
who
frcmi
reaehes
at
deroga
Lake (jeorge
view of ihe extreme southern portion

for
is
;
hut this
is
searcely a matter
regret.
The head
and,
at
of
the-
lake
the
narrow,
Whitehall,
shores are mainly low and swamjjy.
North of Tieondcroga the lake

gins
to
he-
widen,
and, at
Ikirlington
sea.
Bay, expands into a very

first
The
point of interest ahove Tieonis
diroga
Crown
is
i'oint,
the
history
of wliieli
that
(jf
closely identified
with
Fort
Tic(^nderoga.
several
villages,
The
steamer
places
;
makes
l)iit
stoppingwhile
at-
the
tract ivc-looking,
tiie
have
no claims to
|)icturesque.
Some- miles helow

of the Adironto the shore,
cliffs
Ijiirlington, a
s|)Ur
dacks
stretches
down
forming the only steep
directly
on the
cliffs
liorder of
lor
a
tin-
lake.
These
and
extend
in
several
miles,
terminate
as
Sj)]it
point
of land
known
Uock, where a
is
portion of
the
iiiile
rock
isolated
by a remarkinto
fissure,
and converted
this
an
a
island.
From
expan.se
point
opens
liroad
lor
of
water stretching
sixty
a
miles.
There
u]ion
is
almost
sea
always
wind
at
this
of
waters, and
limes the Masts that
come
sweeping
down
from
the
LAKE GEORGE AXD LAKE CHAMPLALW

north are
full
f/3
of \Tgor.
There are q_.

Split
when the waves come tumbling upon Rock like an ocean-surf; so fiercely,
do the seas
assail
the spot, that, in

is
manv
:
winter storm, the spray

tall
dashed over
light-house,
in
where
it
enshrouds the
walls
a robe of
ice.
Even on a
ca!
summer's day the
traveller
discovers a din.r:
ence as he enters this spacious area,

placid sweetness of the lake-su:
place to
robust
energy of mot'
t
certain brilliant crispness replaces

like
calm of the
lo
the
distant mountain-views are superb.

side,
Green ^Mountains, on one
pur
hazy distance; the Adirondack Hiother,
mingle their blue tops w'

study
the
outlir.
.'
One may
and
famous
Camel's
hills
Hump,
of
the
Vermont.
Whiteface amid the towering
the
Adirondacks
is
At
Burlington
Bay the lake
very wide, numerous
face,
and the
distant
th
..
HilJs
.
at
this point
attain
Bur-
lington
to
Platisburg
th-
(one
hunci
firom Whitehall)
interest, similar in
gener
iS
:
below.
At
Plattsburg
Its
widest reach, but a long
expanse nearly
shores.
St.
midway between
is
Albans
on the eastern shore

iry of
_
of the lake, near the north
Vermont.
place Mr.
Between
Plattsbu
Fenn has grouped a

tell
5uCccs=;
views which
ficient
their
own
stor>-
with
sui-
fulness
Rouse's Point, twenty miles

is at
from Plattsburg,
the e.xtrer
lake.
:ndary-
of a western fork of the
Situated
in
LAKE CHAMPLAIN, FROM PL.ATTSBURG TO
ST.
ALBANS.
LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAhN.

Canada, on
the lake
River.
"the
275
waters of
l)order-linc
between the two eountries.
From
this
])ohit the
How
into
the St. Lawrence by a narrow stream
known
as
Sorel or Richelieu
Champlain,
ered in
at
like
Lake George,
has a romantic and stirring historv.

the
It
was discovthe French

pro-
1609 by Samuel de Champlain, commander of
infant colony of
Quebec.
He
had
left
the colony with
small
number of
Indians,
who were
ceeding to give battle to a hostile gathering of the Algonquins.
He
was accompanied
the
by only two French companions.
Making
the
a portage at the
lake, which,
Chambly Rapids,
if
party
reembarked, and soon emerged upon

then, for
great
our records are correct,

of the
the
first
time
in
the
long ages, knew

it
the
presence
white man.
of,
The
inas-
French
officer
promptly named
is
after
himself a vanity we
shall
not complain
this expedition
much
as the designation
simple, euphonious, and dignified.

later
On
Cham-
plain reached a point
between the
fortifications
of
Crown
Point
and Ticonderoo-a.
re-
where ensued a contest between the Iroquois and Algonijuin Indians, which speedily
sulted in victory for the former.
to ambitiously plan a great state
The
upon
discovery of this superb inland sea led the French

its
shores.
At Crown
Point they built a
fort
called
Fort
Fredt5ric,
and
laid
the
foundation of an extensive
the
settlement, under
the
expecta-
tion of
making
this place the capital of

built.
new
empire.
Twenty
years later the fort at

history of Ticonde-
Ticonderoga was
roga, the
But, in
759, as
we have
seen in our
brief
power of the French on the lake was overthrown, and

air.
their magnificent
little
proafter
jects vanished into
During the
Revolution, the
but, in
lake
it
saw but
fighting
a
the
fall
of Ticonderoga and
little
Crown Point;
the
18 14,
was the scene of
naval
battle
of no
magnitude, in which
American Commodore Macdonough defeated

took
place
at
the
English
Commodore Downie.
iith.
The
contest
fleet
Plattsburg,
on
Sunday
morning, September
The American
consisted
of fourteen
force
vessels, eighty-six
guns, and eight hundred and eighty

sels,
men; while the

It
is
FZnglish
numbered sixteen
ves-
ninety-five
guns, and one thousand men.
stated
that, before
going into the

flag-
fight.
Commodore Macdonough
assembled his
officers
and crew on the deck of the

in
ship Saratoga,
and solemnly implored Divine protection

was the surrender of the
entire
the approaching conflict.
The
result of the battle
British fleet, with the exception of a
few small gun-boats.
Commodore Downie was
killed.
While
land,
this struggle
was going on
upon the
lake, a
body of fourteen thousand men on
under General Provost, were
attacking an American force, at Plattsburg, of inferior numbers, under General
Macomb
and
this contest also resulted
in victory for the
Americans.
From
serenity.
that day to the present hour the lake
and
its
shores
have known unbroken
Fleets
of vessels
have
sailed
traversed
its
waters, but
its
they have been

its
on peaceful
towns, pene-
errands. trated
Vast armies have

the
forests
up and down
channels, invaded
it,
and
assaulted
the
mountains that surround
l)ut
the\-
ha\e
been
armies of pleasure-seekers.
MOUNT MANSFIELD.
WITH
1
1.
1.
T K A
1!
II
A R R V
IC
NN
VERMONT
be,
ral
is,
and
will
perhaps ever
the most purely ru-
of
all
the older States.
Though bordered by
Lake Champlain, and

railways, she
pretty well supplied with
seems to be aside from any great

to
thoroughfare, and
If'''
hold
her
greenness
traffic.
nearly
Mhi
/
tween
rano-e
unsoiled
the
by the dust of travel and

masses
of
Be-
unyielding
granite
the
White- Mountain
on the one
side,
and the Adirondack Wilderness on the

its
other, lies
this
happy valley of simple contentment, with

thriftier
mellower
its
soil
and gentler
its
water-courses,
its
farmers
and more numerous
herds,
marble-ledges,
fertile
uplands, and
its
own mountains
of gentler slope and softened outlme.
rise to a thouNearly through the middle runs the Green-Mountain range, giving through green-browed hills sand murmuring rivulets and modest rixers, that lapse down quickly by a mossy and crumbling limestone-cliffs and sunny meadow-lands, now turned
MO UN T MA NSFIELD.
ledge, selves
277
and now skirting a
bit
of native forest, until they lose them-
on the one
side
in
the
deep-channelled
Connecticut, or
on
the other in the historic waters of
Lake Champlain.
out-door
the
lux-
Quiet
ury,
tics
industr\^
pastoral
contentment,
and in-door comfort
these
arc
characteris-
that continually suggest themselves to the visitor,

loiters
wherever he
ant
villages
among
the valley-farms or pleasState.

It
of
as
the
a
Green-Mountain
imac-
presses liim
land where wealth will
seldom
cumulate, and
men
should never decay
whose
dwetl-
The Old Woman
of the Mountain.
|^^*1v^wi'(^^K'^
/''</<
^
'
,^ '
ers
may
the
forever praise
hills,
God
for the
AW ^'^
'
'
'
"'
greenness
of
the
fertility
of the
'
soil,
the
purity of the
earth
streams, the delicious atmosphere,

a
and the mellow sunshine

that
all
where
it
the
extends such
genial
invitation
to
labor
must be
allies,
striving together for a living out of the ground,
and none need
be enemies, scheming to get
out of each other.

third
When
Jacques
Cartier,
of
millennium
ago,
descried
these
peaks
from
78
Mount
rence,
Royal,
by
the
St.
Lawland
he
looked
upon
whose
iiistory
was yet
to be,
where
history,
we look
in the
is
ujion
one whose
romantic sense of the term,

closed.
probably
For
nicelysur-
worded
statutes
and
accurate
veyors' lines
have taken the place
of vague royal patents,
bounded by
the
unknown
tion
rivers
and
conten-
between
New
Hampshire and
New
tion,
allel.
York, that kept Vermont out
of the
Union during
the Revolu-
can liave no repetition or par-
There was one Bennington

need be no more
;
there
there
was
one Ethan Allen

be
another.
there
and
can
never
But, though the days
of colonial jealousies and rebellious
warfare
are are
over,
this
quiet
cattle
people
counting
their
their
and
where
and
has
life.
weighing
butter
their
firkins
their
grandsires
beacon-fires,
shouldered
the the
muskets
lighted
glory
of
manhood
frontier-
not
It
dejjarted
with
romance of
was the sons of the men who

and
carried
Ticonderoga
Lee's
battle
Crown
at
Point
who
anniliilated
forlorn
hope
Gettysburg,
civil
turning
the
that
turned
the
war.
Aêrmont, too,
art,
may have
but just
a history of literature
and
which
is
begun.
here
Here
lies
the
marble-quarry of
earliest
America, and
sprung America's
and
now
ilptor.
One
of her most famous
journalists here
t\j)e
;
3od, learning the use of
pen
and
and
here,
lit-
pupil was
eratur
reared.
And,
for the
extremes of
our
ists,
earliest humorists,
and one of our most
cele-
were
l)orn in these
same verdurous
valleys.
'"îî
If
Corduroy-Bridge,
Professor
Rogers's theory of mountain-formation
be
cor-
Mount-
Mansfield Road.
rect
that
elevated ranges have been produced by a sort of tidal
MOUNT
wave of the
undulation
ington
earth's
MANSFIELD.
279
once
plastic crust
then
its
the Green Mountains must be the softened
that
followed the greater billow which crested

Lafayette, leaving
and broke
in
in
Mount Washand rugged

the
and
Mount
form forever fixed
the
abrupt
declivities of the
White
Hills and the Franconia group.

is
The Green Mountains form

Their wooded
sides
northern portion of what

tained
for
known
early
as the
Appalachian Chain.
ob-
them from the

the
French
Verts,
settlers
term Monts
phrase
the
is
and
the
from
this
derived
in
name
of
State
which thev are
situated.
The
continuation of the range through
Massachusetts and Connecticut

also
is
known
Green
to
geographers
but
as
the
the
Mountains,
of
by
inhabitants
those
States
other names are applied to them
er,
as
the
Hoosac Mountains,
for
in
Massachusetts,
that
portion
lying near the Connecticut
Rivele-
and constituting the most

portion
of
vated
the
State
be-
tween
tonic
;
this river
and the
Housa-
and the Taconic
Moun-
tains for the western part of the
range, which lies along the
New-
York
into
line.
These ranges extend

the southwest
Vermont near
corner of the State, and join in

a
continuous
line
of
hills
that
pass through the western portion
of
the
State
nearly
to
Montvery
\
pelier.
Wîthout
attaining
hills
idw Irom Mountain-Road.
great
elevation, these
form
an unbroken water-shed between the affluents of the Connecticut
on the
east,
and the
South
the
Hudson and Lake Champlain on
the west, and about equidistant
between them.
from Montpelier two ranges extend one toward the northeast, nearly
Connecticut
other,
parallel with
;
River, dividing
is
the waters
flowing
east
from those
flowing west
and the
which
the
higher
this
and more broken, extending nearly north, and near Lake

range the Onion, Lamoille, and Winooski
Rivers
Champlain.
Through
make
their
28o
PJCTURESQUE AMERICA.
the lake.
way toward
both
Among
the principal jxaks are

;
Mount
;
Mansfield, Camel's
Hump,
situated
near
Burlington
Killington's,
lias
near
Rutlaiul
and Ascutncy,
in
in
Windsor
County, near the Connecticut, and which

necticut River.
been illustrated
our
article
on the Con-
Mount
from
Mansfield, the
highest
of the
Green-Mountain range,
line
east,
is
situated
near the
of
east,
northern extremity, about twenty miles, in a direct

Burlington, on
or a
little
north
Lake Champlain.
This
mountain
has
been
less
popular
among
tourists
and pleasure-seekers than the White

its
Mountains and the
Catskills,
jM-incipally
it
because
attractions have been
little
known.
done
it
The
little
pencil of Gifford has
made
peaks,
familiar
to art-lovers;
ravines,
but literature
has
so
far
toward
making
its
cliffs,
and
known
to the general public.
That
possesses points of interest and picturesque

as
features quite as
worthy the appreciation of lovers of Nature
the
White Mountains
it
or the Catskills do, Mr. Fenn's illustrations fully show.

visited than formerly
;
Of
recent years,
has been
more
every
and a good hotel

tourists.
at
is
Stowe,
also a
five miles
from
its
base, has
now
summer
the
its
throng of
There
the
Summit House,
travellers
situated at the base of

find
highest
peak
if
known
as
Nose, where
may
plain
but
suitable
accommodation
field is
they wish to prolong their stay on the mountain-top overnight.
Mans-
conveniently reached
by
rail
from Burlington to Waterbury Station, on the Vermiles

to
mont Central Railway; and thence by Concord coaches ten Stowe a carriage-road reaches to the summit of the mountain.
Stowe.
From
As
in the case
of nearly
all
mountains, there
is
some
difference in the various
esti-
mates of the height of Mansfield, the most generally accepted statement being four thousand three hundred and forty-eight
the Catskills.
giant,
feet
few hundred
is
feet in excess of
the
highest of
Popularly, the
summit of Mansfield
likened to the up-turned face of a

is is
showing the Nose, the Chin, and the Lip.
It
not
difficult,
with a
little
aid of
the imagination, to trace this profile as the mountain

so called, has a projection of four hundred feet,
viewed from Stowe.

all
The Nose,
and the Chin

feet.
the decision of character
indicated by a forward thrust of eight

is
hundred
The
distance from
Nose
to
Chin
This
flimil-
a mile
and a half
is,
The
Nostril
is
discovered in a perpendicular wall of rock.
mountain
moreover, not without the usual number of faces and resemblances to

the most notable
in
iar objects,
among
of which
is
that described as the
"Old
in
Woman
of
the
Mountain," represented
fallen
one of our engravings.

she
She leans back

out, in
her easy-chair,
and her work has

the misty valley.
into her lap, while
gazes
dreamy meditation, across
The
wise
to
ride
ascent
of
the
mountain
is
not
difficult,
which the hardy pedestrian would be

at
attempt
on
foot.
Carriages
is
from
Stowe make the journey
regular periods.
The
tarily
up the steep road-way

beautiful pictures.
full
of interest, the changing views affording

until
momen-
new and
The mountain,
near the summit,

trees
is
very heavily
the
timbered; and the glimpses
downward, through entanglements of
into
deep
MOUNT
ravines, are full of superb beauty.
lesser
MANSFIELD.
2I
Neighboring peaks eontinually change

taller brothers;
their positions;
ones are no longer obscured by their
while successive ravines
yawn
bene'ath us.
Now
the road passes over a terraced solid rock, and
now
it
jolts
o\-cr the
(.-ilinipsc
oi
Lake Champlaiii, irom .summit.
crazy scaffolding of a corduroy-l)ridge that spans a chasm in the mountain-side forest-growths begin to thin out percejitibly
;
soon the
and
at last
cliff
we
reach
the
Summit
House,
amid masses of bare
rocks, at the foot of the

vn
huge
known
as the Nose.
282
The
the
path
up
its
is
Nose,
on
side,
western
quite as rug^ged as
the ordinary climber

will
wish
but,
with
the cable,
its
the
help
of
ascent
may
The
be
accomplished.
is
view from the top
one
of the finest in our country.
To
the eastward are
the
White
by
Mountains,
distance.
dwindled
The
rical
isolated
and symmetof
form
Ascutney
are
rises
on
the
southeast.
Southwaid
Camel's
Cave under Lower
Lip.
Hump
and
Killington
elevations
Peak, and
of
the
re-
innumerable
smaller
Green-Mountain range
spected
in
respectable
of
their
and
their
own
townships,
doubtless,
fair.
but
here
lies
losing
a
much
individual
importance, like monstrosities at a

land,
Westward
considerable expanse of lowthe
with
many
sparkling
streams
winding about
among
farms
the
and
forests
and
villages, the city
of Burlington in the distance, and beyond them
beautiful
expanse
of
Lake Champlain, with
the blue ridges of the Adirondacks serrating the farthest horitlie
zon.
On
the northwest
is
Lamoille Valley, watered by the Lamoille and Winooski
Rivers, that
tumble
through
the depressions of the outliers, and
dream
their
way
across
MOUNT
MANSFIELD.
283
the
plain.
And
St.
far
northward
are Jay
Peak and Owl's Head,

Lawrence,
a
the
spires
stately
the of
of
Montreal,
mountains,
score
nameless
and
Lake
Memphremagog,
readers
tier's
familiar to
many
by the means of Whitverse.
pleasing
The
all
diffi-
culty,
however,
with
is,
views
occasion
from mountain-tops
to find an
when
the
the
atmosphere
pect.
is
sufficiently clear to take in
pros-
Mr. Fenn was three days on the summit of

all
Mansfield, during
which time a dense, gray vapor

features of that
enveloped
file,
all
the
facial
grand pro-
and veiled the surrounding scene as completely

from view the splenmisty
veil
lifted
as the curtain at the play shuts
dors
little
;
behind
it.
At
last,
the
and we have
a
as a result, in
one of the
parting
illus-
trations,
glimpse,
through
this
vapor, of
Lake Champlain and

other
the distant Adirondacks.

- cliffs
AnClimbing the Nose.
view
shows us the mountain
looming
284
throufjh
the
mist, as
affording
glimpse
of
what
of
is
known
most
In
called
Smuggler's
Notch, one
of
this
the
interesting
features
mountain.
the
far
West
It
this
differs
notch
would be
a canon.
from
being
the canons of the
Sierras
mainl\- in
-not
ocky
Smuggler's Notch.
MOUNT
tation.
MANSFIELD.
287
Mosses
in
and
ferns
cover
them, and
trees
many
instances great
in
have
found
nourishment
the crevices, sometimes huge, gnarl-
ed
roots
encircling
the
rocks like
painter
immense
could find
ies
anacondas.
The
no more
delightful stud-
in
color than this scene affords.
At
the
time
visited
by the
had
artist
and the
writer,
there
been
three days' rain.
The stream
that
flowed throuarh the gorcje was swollen
into
torrent.
Over the top
of every
cliff
came pouring extem-
porized
water
falls
and
fairly
cascades,
tropical
brilliant
while
the
foliage, of
abundance,
intensity
shone
of
with
green.
a
Smuggler's
poetical
it
Notch
has
hundred
for
charms that deserve

name.
used
as
It is so called
a better
because once
for
hiding-place
goods
bor-
smuggled
der.
over
the
Canada
Another very charming picture

in
this
Mansfield
Cascade,
a
gallery
is fall
Mossthat
Glen
water in
comes tumbling down,

leaps,
successive
through a narrow gorge.

or
flume,
The
the
pipe,
supported
right,
by
rude
a
ladders
on the
the
conveys
to
portion
of
water
It
the
like
wheel of
an
a saw-mill.
seems
impertinence
to
introduce
any
mechanical contrivance into so exquisitely

this
"
;
wild
bit
of scener)^
is
as
for the
brook
emphatically
Nature,"
gushing child
of
not
Moss-Glen Cascade.
intended for homely usefulness.
THE VALLEY OF THE HOUSATONIC.

w ITH
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
J.
DOUGLAS WOODWARD.
Mouth
of the Housatonic.
THERE
the
are
few
Newany
do
not
piescnt, ni
a iriât \a-
England
rivers of
considerable length which
range
of their flow, not onl\
riety,
but also a striking contiist

hills as
of aspects
Risine ordinarily in the

ulets,
spaikling ii\iict
they dance and chatter, oi foam and
sobriety of into the valleys, slowly gaining

,;
mo,0,1, at
of .he all-en,brac,ng htoadcr waters, or into the arnr. tude and becoming dignity, Into
M,
which they .,e ,pk, g,w.., of their hu.k,
length with
->'-"
^P"
sea.
THE VALLEY OF
The Housatonic River
is
TLÊ HOUSATONLC.
to
this
rule.
It
289
no exception
its
springs in the beautiful
Berkshire region of Massachusetts, where

and, after
first
ripples reflect the crests of
grand
suffer
hills;
it
flowing for a century of happy miles

its
amid scenes
that
do not
to
quite forget
mountain-cradled laughter,
shore,
it
glides gravely
is
enough through the

in
plains of
old Stratford,
on the Connecticut
and
lost
thereafter
the
expanse of Long-
Island Sound.
The journey along
the valley of the Housatonic, and beyond
it
to that of the Hoosic,
The Housatonic
at
Derby.
upon which the reader of

fitly
this
sketch should imagine himself to
accompany
faint, early
us,
may
it
be
symbolized
to
him
by the
mid-October day with whose
light
was
begun.
pale
into
The
gray, misty gleams of the

river that
young morning harmonized
well with the broad,
shimmering of the
the wide waste
was merging
it.
consciously,
it
may
be
its
individuality
in
of waters
108
beyond
There was beauty enough, however,
the
290
Housatonic
\'alle\',
near Kent Plains.
pink dappling of the sky, tingeing

the
clouds, the
alike,
quiet river
and
first
bay
with
Aurora's
glad smile
in
the gentle swell of the green land,
dotted
over with white

slopes,
homes
in
the
flush
of the
wooded
where the maples were mocking the

the
faintly-kindling
eastern horizon with

their
this to give
splendor of
in
all
ripened
the
leaves
there
was charm enough
pause to impatient
his
feet, until
Sun had
rent the veils of mist
and cloud,
artist
and poured from
golden chalice a partial glory upon the scene chosen by our
for the frontispiece of this sketch.
The change from
quietness
to
romance
in
the
aspects of the Housatonic ^"alley,
THE VALLEY OF
TLIE
HOUSA TONIC.
291
'imsi^-'^^'^-^ -^^^^^^^^^--^^^Sfe--"-
Old Furnace,
at
Kent
Plains.
from
its
broad mouth upward toward the

the
hills,
if
less
rapid
than
still
that
of the cool, gray

less
real
;
dawn
into
warm and
shadowless beauty of the day, was

progress
the
of the
not
and our
us
ere
advance, helped at one point by the swift
railway-train,
brought
long into a region where such speed, amid an impertinence,

if
surrounding loveliness, would have been
not, indeed, a jênalty.
292
PIC TURESQ UE A
MERICA
S-^^
Û-'
if
iUjH^
'
î
Housafonic
Falls,
Falls Village.
0"'ML'Mii,i
rr
^:i.
That
railway
brief
will
passage
on
the
be
quite
long
of
enough
interest
for the recital
of a few initial
facts
to
the
reader.
The
little
beauties
of
the
still
Housatonic Valley were

less pictured,
known, and
before the opening of the Housatonic
Railway, which connects the sea-coast of Connecticut with the

beffinning;
at
mountains of Massachusetts.
the
That railway,
city
handsome and
valley
thrifty
of
Bridge-
port,
enters the
of
the
Housatonic
all
only
above
Brookfield.
tent;
brief
Thence
it
traverses the valley closely

at
through neariy
its
remaining extarry, and,
and there are few stations beyond

excursions
to
which the tourist might not
with
the
right
or
left,
fill
his
eye with the charms of mountain-outlines,
THE VALLEY OF THE HOUSA TONIC.

valley-reaches, crystal lakes,
terval
293
a
lontr
and
silvery water-falls.
There
is,
therefore, cjuitc
if
in-
of the valley of the Housatonic which the tourist cannot,
he would, follow by
of miles, from
Strat-
the
ford,
railway.
He
rails
may, however, pursue

of the
it
it,
for
its
fust
half-score
on the
Naugatuck road
and
this
will
afford
him pleasing glimpses
of the river where

ing:
is
joined by the noisy Naugatuck, and where the busy manufactur-
interests of such villages as
Derby and Birminoham subsidize and
utilize
the water-
power of the streams, with
little
regard to picturesqueness of appliance or

at
least,
is
effect.
Of
the
bridges that
span the rivers here, one,

;
pretty
enough
to
have
taken the eye of our
artist
and, with the accessories of fine old elms, and the placid,
it
mirror-like face of the stream,
can hardly
the
fail is
to
renew
its
fascination
its
on the page.
by the
shrill
From Derby
to
New
roll
Milford
of the
river
unterrified
in
course
whistle and the crashing
locomotive.
There
is
too
the
little,
perhaps, of the ro-
mantic
in
this
twenty-mile interval to tempt any one but
determined
pedestrian
to
follow the banks of the stream.
An
aside,
by way of Stratford again, and of Bridgeport,
will
speedily
overpass
all
the initial tameness of the merely undulating region
near the coast, and bring into view
the swelling
symptoms of those
hills
which are soon to overhang

lapses of the
now
with gloom, and
anon with purple glow

If this
the
not
silvery
Housatonic.
limits,
sketch were
shut
up to narrow
but
diffusiveness
were allowed,
discussed.
the question
of the origin and
meaning of the name "Housatonic" might be

in
it
There was the usual variety of orthographic variations

easy
title
before
it
reached
its
present
and euphonious form, which

by which
the
it
is
grateful
it.
refinement,
signification
is
probably, of the
is
aboriginal
Indians
therefore
designated
Its
"Flowing (or Winding)

of one
Waters;" and
for a primitive
is
no misnomer.
There
the authority
antiquarian
name
faintest of the river, of wiiich the present appellation gives not the
prevision.
The
old Stratford records,
we
are told,
it
make
is
it
the "Paugussef," and
we
are
quite content to have this
name
as mythical as
remote.
less of
This
train
brief
digression, historical
and otherwise, has taken

Milford.
our
time
than
the
requires from
Bridgeport to
New
And now
the railway tourist must use
shapes his eyes diligently to catch a tithe of the picturesque

as he
is
which
will pass before
them
whirled all too swiftly along the west bank of

with glimpses only.
the lovely river.
He
must be
shift
satisfied
The western
hills,
which
will
soon be mountains,
thick
rap-
idly their
fast
wavy
outlines;
and the autumnal hues of

on
his sight with
their
forest-growth, which
are
deepening
in tone, flash
weird
rustic
effects.
All
the
scene
is,
to
him,
red
simply kaleidoscopic hill and
vale, river
and
bridges, white
satisfy the
farm-houses and
eye.
barns, mingling together to surprise rather

clines to linger
than
really to
which yet de-
on the
Plains
attractive scene.
At Kent
the valley opens with such charming

if
it
aspects as to well repay the

find
it
patient tourist for his pause, even
is
brief.
He
will
worth while to do a
294
little
climbinu-,
if
it
is
onlv to
t)l)tain
clear idea of the shape
ami scope of the noble

hill-sides,
vallev
he
is
traversing, girt closely
on the west by almost abrupt
and, on
the
other hand, spreading out
ink)
will
sweet pastoral reaches and green undulations.

not avail, however, to
uniiiue,
lift
His
tacle
''little
climbing"
are
him
to
the
level
of the
Spec-
Ponds, which
two very
but
([uite
elevated, oval
lakelets,
fringed
by
Old Bridge, Blackberry River, near Canaan.
dense woods, and

river,
connected
by
a
fine
slender
hill-top,
water-belt,
or
strait.
These
lie
west of the
and are on the way to a
which commands distant and beautiful views
across the
Hudson.
old furnace which the
artist
The
has
so
faithfully
reproduced with
his
pencil will
suggest to the
the iron which
mind one
is
of the
industries
localities.
of the
Housatonic Valley the working of
found
in
many
THE VALLEY OF THE HO USA TONIC.

It
295
to
recall, at
would be doing
story of the
less
than justice
to
happy
historic
memories not
ago,
Kent, the
Schaghticoke
Indians,
are
among whom, long

to
the
Moravians
founded a mission, and of
whom
there
yet
be
found .descendants of a mongrel
order, their aboriginal nature
and habits strangely mingled and overlaid with the externals
of civilization.
A
line
dav or two would be well spent between

miles,
Kent and
Canaan
northward reach
of twenty-five
which brings the valley of the Ilousatonic close upon the dividing
This interval
is
between Connecticut and Massachusetts.

lofty ridge has
rich
in
picturesque delights.
up, here
The
now assumed
true
mountain-aspect, and
lifts
and
there,
such noble crowns to the sky as tempt the tourist to unfold, with the legendary
youth
"A
banner with the strange device,

'
Excelsior!
'
"
Falls Village
notice.
is
the
centre
of
some of the
for
chief attractions
of the
section
rural
under
enter-
There
is
chance here, moreover,
the
enjoyment of thoroughly
river
tainment, at a
village,
sories.
little
hostelry nestled in a glen on the side of the
opposite
to
the
which, like
many
of the
Housatonic
villages,
is
less
picturesque
than
its
acces-
Close
at
hand
are the falls of the
Housatonic the most prominent,

it
perhaps, of
to
the cataracts
in
Connecticut.
They
are
worthy of attention, but

are
is
difficult
l)y
avoid
un-
some
feeling of vexation
on finding that near views of them

which, under
the
blemished
the
sightly
encroachments of that barbarism

clutter
misnomers of "civilization"
and "progress,"
dwell and
toil
our water-falls and rapids with
tlic
ugly shanties and shops where

indeed, but wiiich
the
gnomes
of factories, forges, and furnaces, useful
we
would
fain
banish into caverns, or at least into

as
unlovely corners.
These
falls
are
com-
monly known
their
the
Canaan
Falls,
and
fill
up the whole breadth of
the stream with
tumultuous dash and roar over a steep, terraced ledge of dark rock.
fifty
Their descent
the
sweet, soft
sensitive
possibly exceeds
feet
and, seen at a distance, and

inspire
especially under
magic of the moonlight, they

mind.
no small
degree
of admiration
in
the
Mount
and
its
Prospect
rises
about two miles from these

in
falls,
in
a northwestern
direction;
very summit
may be reached
cairiage,
it
by the
mde
track which the

llie
wood-
men
follow with their teams.
When
gained,
opens to the view of
tourist such a
though some are of scene as he can obtain from few other mountain-crests in the valley, The great bosom of the interval between the east and west more renown than this.
ranges of
are
in
hills
is
heaving with
its
green billows beneath

its
him.
the
thousand wavy crests

line
his
view;
and, threading
way near and
afar,
silvery
of the
villages.
river
stretches
amid picturesque homesteads, which now and then
cluster
into
the foot of this mountain, bears deep, dark, and ugly fissure into wild, outlying rocks, at
the appropriate but not attractive
name
of the Wolf's Den.
296
W.thm
an hour's walk of the Great Falls
lies
the pretty village of Salisbury, which,

all
u-h.le
is,
it
is
not a railway-station-to
social
its
positive advantage in
beautiful
picturesque
respects-
nevertheless, the
centre
r.ving close under the deep
populous county of Litchfield, shadows of the great Taconics, Mount Riga may be said to
of
the
and
Old
Mill,
Sage's
Ravine.
be
It
its
especial guardian,
whose noble
it
crest,
known
as
Bald Peak, alternately smiles upon
in
sunshine and frowns upon

It
in
storm.
to press
Bald
would carry the reader quite out of the Housatonic Valley Peak on to the Dome, and westward
still,
him bevond
to
dozen miles,
until
we came
the

renowned ravine of Bashbish,
and
its
297
grand
closely
but
gloomy
water-fall,
overlooking
the
little
iron-working village
of Copakc, in
New
of
York, and
sl#
on
the
line
the
Harlem
Railway.
Without
ridffes
overpassing
the
of
the
Taconic,
'e-
and
quite within the
gitunate
of
compass
oui
theme
it
is
Iver Cascade, Sage's Ravine.
proper for us to explore

a
mountain-
gorge
than
Bashbish,
less
less
known
of
the
with
far
terrible,
but with
its
more of the
Sage's Ra-
beautiful, in
aspect.
vine
is
but
an
easy
if
delightful
drive,
or a preferred of
walk
four miles from Salisbury.

er
it
Wheth-
is
more
"
Berkshire than a
us leave in the
resolve.
It
Salisbury
lion," let
doubt we cannot now

lies
aloncr the dividing line of
towns and States
alike,
and
is
certainly a
grand
bisector.
At
the
mouth of
this
noble ravine there are a fine old
mill,
and a picturesque bridge
298
cleft.
spanning the torrent which comes dashing and foaming down the wild
gestion of trout-treasures in
the
The
the
is
sugartist
pools and eddies of this noisy brook, which
has put in his picture,

his
is
by no means gratuitous.
;
That eager-eyed fisherman

above the
mill,
sure of
his
game, unless
his
looks belie him

still
till
and,
if
he were a mile
with
rod and line he might
his creel
with the speckled beauties, and be happy.

clatter
Leave the roar of the

ravine, with
falls
and the
of the mill-gear behind, and go
up the
some one
to
show you the
possible paths
if
it
should
be young Gilmore,
of the contiguous iron-furnace, you will be fortunate.
There
feet will
is
hard climbing
before the
Twin
Falls
of our
picture
are
if
reached.
Your
sink in clumps of moss and decayed wood, upsetting

cling to birch-boles, and often
you
you
are not wary.
You must
to slenderer stems, as
you swing round oppos-
ing barriers of rock.

rent
You may
path
get a foot-bath, or worse, as you cross the foaming torside.
to
find
an
easier
on the other
twists
But here and
there,
all
along the wild

dark-beetling
way, are pretty cascades, tortuous

rocks,
rare
of
the
stream, gayly-lichened
or
mossy nooks or gloomy
tarns, and, overhead,
maples and
birches,
mingling their
cedars,
autumnal splendors of red and gold with the sombre greens of hemlocks, and
pines.
and
The glory
above, and the

so.
dash
and
foam
at
your very
feet, will
stir
your
tire
soul, if
Nature's charms can ever do

their close, but
Two
hours will suffice for the ravine, and

will avail
you
at
no consciousness of fatigue
to
mar your sense
of the
rare beauty
and picturesqueness of the whole scene.

Berkshire farmer, whose hospitable
inheritor
The
mill, is
thrifty
homestead
his
lies
just north of the old
the
descendant and
"
of him
who gave
much time
honest
though
unromantic
name
to the ravine,
hundred years ago."

for the leisurely
A
the
week
in
Salisbury would be none too

to
enjoyment of
many charming views
be
found
in
its
neighborhood.
sweet
There, very near to the
iron-smelting
hamlet of Chapinville, spread the
waters of the
Twin Lakes
the
of
Washinee and Washineen
encompassed
by winding
drives, with
ever-shifting
visions
the kingly Taconic crests, and these, on the nether slopes displaying, in the bright
days, such
autumn
splendors of variegated color as would intoxicate with delight the heart of a
devotee of illuminated missals.
These pretty lakes

tourist
lie
in
enticing
proximity to a limestone
cave, into
which the
may
be induced to venture by the promise of rare visions
"...
In
of stalactites
and stalagmites,
chambers weird and dim."
And,
lest
he should yield to the temptation and do as
we
did once
go
into
the
cave
in-
with an inadequate supply of candles, and
pay
for the
improvidence by half a day's
carceration in total darkness and in equally dense impatience

care with
let
him be warned
"dips."
to take
whom
he
goes, and, above
all,
to
take with
him
some extra
^Vith

these precautions,
it
299
for
in
is
quite possible that the Salisbury

it
Cave may be
him a place of
that part of the
pleasanter
memories than
is
to
us, as
we review our adventures
Housatonic Valley.
Canaan, near the outgoing of the river and valley from
an
ern
the
Connecticut
border,
is
important
station
on the two railways

intersection.
the
Housatonic and the (Connecticut Westin

itself,
it
at their
common
the
pretty village
has
its
sjoecial
pictu-
resqueness
it
along
pleasant
little
valley
of the
Blackbeny
River,
on
whose banks
lies.
Leaving
it,
the tourist crosses, almost immediately, the southern boundary-line of the
Zj^^'^
Mount Washington, from
l|if
Sheffield.
renowned Berkshire County,

its
a region not surpassed, in
picturesque loveliness, throughout
whole longitude of
fifty
miles and
its
average latitude of twenty miles, by anv equal

all
area in
New
England, and perhaps not

to
in
this
Western world.
The
slave
the
railway and
its
truth "rapid car" will not, probably, discover the

in the transit, or
of this broad generalization.
He
may, and indeed, unless he sleeps
does
the next most heathenish
thing reads some narrow-printed page

his
instead of that open vol-
ume where God
has
imprinted
own grand symbols

jicrhaps
of beauty and
power-he
effects,
must,
see a surpassinglv-varied
landscape, with
astonishing
atmospheric
though
?oo
PIC TURESQUIi AMERICA.

((jr
these
he
needs
to
l)idc
through
changing
skies,
and
ol
hours,
and Off
moods
the
Nature.
in
railway,
village-
nooks, in glens
ways,
and bycrests
upon
near
and remote
hill-tops,
the
lover of the beautiful will

find
innumerable views to
gaze upon, to sketch, or

hajjly
to
daguerreotype
only on his memory.

Sheffield
is
a
for
good
those
lingering-point
who do
amid
the
not wisely shun,

Nature's
charms,
shrill
pipe of the enclick
gine,
and the sharp

electric
of
the of
hammer.
From
Sheffield the ascent
Mount Washington
is
one
the
toil
it
of the Taconic giants

a
easily
made
and
ex-
requires
will
be
bliss"
cheap purchase
of the vale at
its
of
"
far
prospects,"
changed
ton
for
the
a
"level
part
foot.
Mount Washingits
was once
a
of the
the
great
Livingston
lordly
Manor, and
once
summit
in
commands
that
view of
rich
and
domain
included
now
The
half-forgotten name.
tourist
treat,
who
is
not in hot haste to get through his route, as
if
it
were a
task,
and not a
could hardly do better than to take up his abode for a
little
while at
the Mount-Everett
House,
in
South Egremont,
this
a few miles east of the railway,
and just
his
under the
sweet
will,
lofty crest
whose name
quiet
summer
hotel bears.
scale the
feet."
Thence,
at
own
he
may go and climb
or ramble.
of
He may
mountain, by way of "its
vast, uncultivated slope, to

if
a height
two thousand
There
to
his astonishment,
not before informed

literally
he
would
find a village,
whose ten or twelve score of inhabitants

familiar,
are
mountaineers,
a
and whose eyes are
by daily outlook, with such a

It
;
panorama
is
as
sensitive valley or sea-side
dweller would go into ecstasies to behold.
not
finer,
it
perhaps, though far broader, than that obtainable
from
Prospect
River, and
little
Mountain
but
then
lie
takes
in
half the
whole stretch of the

villas,
Housatonic
spires,
below the
eye
lakes and woodlands, lawns and
gleaming
and
rifts
and puffs

of
is
301
smoke from
more
like
furnaces and creeping engines

picture on
and
scene.
all
this
so far away, so
still,
that
it
canvas than a
real
East and west, the eye has broad

Catskills
extent of vision into Connecticut and western horizon

;
New
the
York.
interval,
The
make
a blue and
wavy
in
its
and the Hudson,
in
twins
the
nearer
Housatonic
Green River,
at
Great
Harrington.
sparkling
flow
it,
Here one may
fitly
repeat
Thomson's panegyric on
vision
not alto-
gether unlike
perhaps, but in Old rather than in
New
England
" Heavens
what a goodly prospect spreads around.

dales, of
Of
hills
and
woods and lawns and

till
spires,
all
And
The
glittering
towns and gilded streams,
stretching landscape into
smoke decays
"
!
The
go
practical
man, who shuns the toilsome clamber to Mount Everett's

wagon, from
his inn, to see
crest,
may
afoot, or in his light
the famous marble-quarries of Egre-
mont, whence were hewn the white columns and walls of the Girard College, more than
a third of a century ago, and
where to-day the old proprietor
is
still
busily blasting and
{02
blocking out the

iant
brill-
stones,
with
to
far
easier
access
the
market than when he

sent
them by ox-teams
Great
Harrington
to the
Hudson.
from
peoadjecin
name
its
which the modesty, perhaps, of

ple
tive
IS
gradually
a
eliminating
attractive
the
is
most
point
the
valley of the Housatonic.
The
river, losis
ing
in
all
the while
in
volume,
gaining
its
picturesqueness.
Its
narrowing banks wear greener and lovelier

swift,
its
fringes,
and
tones
ring
more musically
in the
broken and impetuous lapses of

splendid elms shading
its
its
waters.
its
Barrington
has
many summer
charms, in
its
streets, in
attractive drives
find
over fine roads, and in

lovely outlooks
it
pleasant society.
All around the village one

hills.
may
new and
think
on the closely-encompassing
The
stout-hearted pilgrim
may
worth while to covet the seat and copy the example of the adventurer
whom
the artist
has giddily enthroned
upon the very verge of Prospect Rock.

the
stroll
along the road that leads to
two Egremonts North and South will

River, a babbling stream that flows along as
303
bring the visitor to a charming bit of land-and-water view at the rural bridge over Green
if
in
sweet and delighted
consciousness
of
the beauty
It
it
here and there discloses.

to
would be a great mistake of the explorer of Berkshire

rail,
go from Barrington to
by slower inspection.
it
Stockbridge by
unless, indeed, he
had exhausted the interval
The highway
tedious, for
it
is
the shorter by nearly two miles, and not a furlong of

is
all
is
tame or
in
thick
set
with
those
sweet surprises that
characterize
ridge-roads
Berkshire.
Its half-way
bers,
wonder
is
the
renowned Monument Mountain, which Stockbridge numher

old
special
attractions.
with allowable pride,
among
This
"
mountain was
called
by
the Muh-hek-a-new Indians

"
the
Stockbridge tribe
Maus-was-see-ki," which means

it,
The
Fisher's
Nest."
its
Its present appellation
was given to
perhaps, on account of a
it
cairn
found
upon
southern
crest,
which has connected with
an Indian myth of a
dusky maiden who, disappointed
in
love,
jumped from
the
precipice,
and was
killed
fatal
love-lorn sacrifice which the braves
commemorated by
or without legend,
flinging a stone
it
upon the
spot
whenever they passed by
it.
With
is
a weird
is
and romantic
spot.
From Monument Mountain

drive,
to the village of Stockbridge
less
than half an hour's

"
when
the
carriage-road
has
been
regained.
Its
This village
houses
the
Housatonnuc" of
its
past
generations
its
is
of
romantic
beauty.
and churches,
library
and
academy,
ful elms.
fountain and monuments, are pretty mosaics set in the emerald of wonder-
There are few
if,
indeed, there are any

rural
villages in our land that can
rival
it
in
rare
and fascinating aspects of
beauty, in immediate surroundings of

associations,
lie
unwonted
charms, in worthy and precious
historical
and
in the
renown of noble sons
and daughters.
pretty lake
The
beauties of
Stockbridge
in
many
"
directions.
To
the north, the

"
Mahkeenac
more
familiarly
known
as the
Stockbridge Bowl
spreads
its
translucent waters, shapely, in
its
outline, as a gigantic basin,
on whose margin Hawthorne

village
is
once lived
for a succession
of seasons.
mile or
the
more from the

northern
found that
wonder of Nature, the

and and
of
in
its
Ice Glen, which
pierces
spur of Bear
Mountain
long and
awsome
corridors arid cr}^pts, formed by massive
and gloomy rocks,
huge but prostrate
trees, the
explorer
may
find
masses of
ice
in the heart
and heat and pa-
midsummer.
The passage
of this glen, though
not
perilous, requires
nerve
tience,
and the cheer of glowing torches withal.
The
heights that overhang the village

villas,
are "beautiful for situation,"
and studded with pleasant
whose fortunate possessors
may gaze
none
at will
over the
fair
intcriocking valleys of the Housatonic and the Konkapot.

loves to recall in connection with old
in
Among
the
names
that
memory
Stockbridge,
will live so
long or so prominently
history as that of
Jonathan Edwards.
This
distinguished divine was not a native of the village, and, indeed, lived there only a few
years
;
but he was so closely identified, for that time, with with

its
all
the interests of the place,
and
especiall\
religious
and missionary work, that he grew rapidly into the reve-
304
PIC TURESO UE A
MERICA.
lousatonic River, at Stockbridge.
rential regard
It
and love of
its
people.
was there that he wrote
his
famous
work, "The Freedom of the Will," undoubtedly his

master-work.
The
sal-
ary of this great preacher

tor
as the pas-
of
the
Stockbridge Church, and

his
distinct
from
remuneration as mis-
sionary to the
Indians was,
in
in
money,
less
than seven pounds sterling per annum, and
two pounds more

remarkable
value
erecting
paid in
to
wood!
Stockbridge
honored the memory of

of
this
man
by
him,
on the village green, a monument
polished
Scotch granite.
On
leaving Stockbridge, the tourist

;
may
scarcely venture to promise himself a beauty
beyond that he has already enjoyed

to the varied scenery of
and
this
may
It
be suggested without disparagement

hardly be doubted that the rare
called
Northern Berkshire.
this
may
and numerous attractions of
whole region so aptly
"the
Palestine
of
New
If
England" are
this verdict
crystallized, in
excess of loveliness, around
Stockbridge as a nucleus.
union in
had gathered something of weight to the judgment from the acknowledged religious, Stockbridge of all the forces natural, historical, social, intellectual, and
its
alike which have given to Berkshire

theless, legitimate
enviable renown, the influence would be, never-
and
just.
There
the
is,
however,
much beyond
this
picturesque centre deserving the regard of

novelty, as well
as
all
lovers of Nature.
And
It
this
is,
much comprehends
similarity, of
landscape and water view.
seen. indeed, only that one half of Berkshire has been

that the other half will possibly present fewer
"
305
delicious surprises
"
than otherwise to the
eye of the
explorer.
There are new outlines of the mountains to be studied; new

lake,
groupings of their massive forms, with new details and specialties of glen, and
water-fall, to
and
be noted.
of lofty
hills,
The Hoosac range

rivalry with the Taconics,
on the
;
east,
comes now
in
into
distinct
and close
on the west
his
and
far
away,
the northern end of the county,
the lordly Graylock
lifts
blue crest with such preeminence of majestic

sink inferior to
its
mien
that the
many peaks
already
named
are
grand central prominence.

lie
Lee and Lenox

Stockbridge and
the
two
villages
that
in
the
Housatonic Valley between

a city,
Pittsfield,
which
latter village is rapidly
growing into the rank of
and
is
the metropolis of
all
the Berkshire region.

the
railway passes, the river
alike
is
x\t
tiful,
Lee, through which

its
quite as useful as
it
is
beau-
lending
to
force
and purity
to
the
paper-mills
which have contributed so

chief industry of
much
build
up and enrich the

attractive place
is
village.
Another and perhaps the

its
this thriving
and
the quarrying of
fine,
white building-marble, which
represents Berkshire, with such solid and permanent effect, in the walls of the Capitol at
Washington.
Lee has
a pretty lake, within a
pleasant half-hour's walk
on
the
road
to
Lenox
terey
but, for heavier charms, its
summer
and
guests
to
make
excursions to quaint old
Mon-
and to Tyringham, on the

it
east,
Lenox and Stockbridge, between which
places
is
about equidistant.
lies
Lenox
two miles apart from the
line of
the railway, having a station only at

are
fol-
Lenox Furnace.
lowing
is
At few
much
to
if
at
any
points
a
immediately on the iron track we

as
at
there so
charm and detain the eye
this
station.
The
sweet,
translucent river,
its
rustic bridge, the swelling knolls of the interval,
and the bold, grand

which no
artist's
sweep of the near mountains, make up
most exquisite
picture, to
eye
could be indifferent, even amid the profusion of charming views

hand.
springing
up on every
At Lenox Furnace
to
the double industry of glass and iron working gi\es occupation
numerous workmen.
The
recent
production there
it,
of excellent
plate -glass, from

in
the
fine-granulated quartz of the region about
is
noteworthy incident
the manufiictur-
ing annals of Berkshire.
Of Lenox
chronicles
enthusiastic
itself reached
by a drive of constantly-increasing picturesqueness these

mention.
Professor
air,
can
make
but
inadequate
its
Silliman
designated
it,
in
his
admiration of
It
pure, exhilarating
and
its
it
lovely views,
"a gem among
the
mountains."
deserves
it
the
a
praise.
Till
recently,
was the shire-town of the

infiuence which
its
it
region,
lost.
and term-time gave

it
measure of importance and
has since
But
cannot lose
its
beauty, and the

cities,
summer doubles
population with hundreds
of happy pilgrims
from
the
some of whom occupy
their
own
villas,
while
more
crowd
its
hotel and the
numerous boarding-houses which challenge

no
this periodical
influx.
3o6
PIC Tl ^RESQUE AMER/L \
/.
fS.îw.
'^^.SSl%fl
Ice
Glen,
Stockbridge.
All
around
Lenox, the
crests
and slopes of
its
constituent
and outlying
hills
are
covered
viduality,
by mansions and
if
villas,
which one might remember
for their architectural indi-
this
beauty of the were not always eclipsed by the surpassing breadth and
outlook.
To
describe
this,
would be
to
repeat only, perhaps, with new
allocations
of epi-
THE VALLEY OF THE HO USA TOXIC.

thets
307
Here, however,
what
has
been
said
of the
more southern
part
of the
valley.
the dwellings are far
more numerous, and a

in
richer social element mingles with
and en-
hances the simply picturesque
the landscape.
is
That gifted and genial woman, Frederika Bremer,

notabilities
but one of a score of
!rterar>-
who,
li\-ing,
or lingering for a while at

it
least,
amid the charms of Leno.x, have

as a tvpe of their
recorded their admiration of
in
glowing words.
Hers may ser\e

is
kindred utterances.
She writes:
hills,
'The country around Lenox

prettiest
little
romanticallv lovely, in-
spired with wood-covered
and the
lakes."
In describing the Housa-
tonic
scenery more generally, she justly uses
these
emphatic expressions
"wonderfully
will
picturesque, and sometimes splendidly gloomy."

It
was
:
at
Lenox
that
Fanny Kemble
lived,
if
and expressed the wish to be buried,

let
saying
" I
will not rise to trouble
any one.
they will
me
sleep here.
only
.
ask to be permitted, once in a while, to raise

scene."
my
is
head and look out upon
this
glorious
The English
origin of this delightful place

its
commemorated,
after the lapse of
more
than twelve decades, in
name, which was the patronymic of the Duke of Richmond.

"
The
will
fine
its
view which the

best
Ledge " contributes
to
the
embellishment of
this
paper
be
o\Am
commentar)- on the breadth and manifold charms of the Lenox

guests of
still
landscape.
"
The summer
Lenox
find great delight in
gazing out from
its
noble
coignes of vantage."
For
wider range of vision, they go to Peny's Peak, a bald and

in
lonely
summit on the
on the
is
west, easily reached

border.
an hour's
ride,
and standing
like
grim
sentinel
New -York
There
fine
a scientific interest, also, about
Perrt's
Peak,
in
that
it
!-
>uc\ved with the

Valley, intercareful notice
bowlders which are traced, in seven parallel
lines, across
the
Richmond
vening between the peak and Lenox Mountain.
These stones attracted the
and
diligent review of that
eminent English geologist. Sir Charles Lyell.

held
On
this
peak,
also, in
1869,
some
local scientific associations
a "field-day" for the

birthday.
especial
com-
memoration of the centennial anniversary of Humboldt's
fine
photograph of
the grand old savant was uncovered, and" a tribute-poem read, on the pleasant occasion.
Among
the
attractive
f>oints
included
in
the magnificent overlook
from the peak
are the Shaker \-iUages of both Lebanon, in
Xew
York, and Hancock,
in Massachusetts,
the former being, perhaps, the metropolis of the sect of Shakers.
The Boston and Albany

has a
station
there.
Railway passes close bv the village of the Hancock
Shakers, and
characteristics
The town
Yallev.
of
Hancock
is
itself
one of the outlying
of the
Housatonic
It is altogether
mountainous, being only a long and narrow tract on the backsingle
bone and slopes of the Taconic range, with a

cove, or inter\-al, near the
hamlet crouching
roads
in
beautiful
northern end of
it.
The
which cross
this
attenuated
township are
ver)-
romantic and very rough, except, perhaps, those from
Lebanon and
Hancock
villaees direct,
which are
fine '>
^nmmr-r and much
travelled.
3o8
the
PIC TURESQ UE
Pittsfickl
i-^
A ME RICA
Uailwav, one
liMiiiimis of
tlie
tlu'
lousalonic
hundred
and
its
ten
miles
into
from Bridgeport; and here
Ilousatonie
River
dwindles greatlv by
just
in
division
two arms, one of which flows from Pontoosuc Lake

far greater
northward, and the other, with

iierkshire towns.
meandejing, from distant northeastern
hills
Lenox
Station.
Pittsfield
Pitt.
It
is
commemorates
in
its
name
the fame of England's noble statesman, William

in
one of the handsomest villages

"
New
England, and perhaps the

it
"
Newmight
archi-
England
be
so,
Hand-Book
it
anticipates events only the least in calling

It
is
" city."
It
but
is
not now.
already suburban in
its
aspects,
and exhibits
fine
tectural ambitions in several recent public buildings.

Its
just
pride
in
its
history,
and
in that
of the county
it
represents, had
happy
'*^>-<
View from the "LedgeJ' Lenox.
exposition, nearly twenty years
ago, in
the
Berkshire
"
Jubilee, a festival
which gathered
far,"
the sons and daughters of

bright and
Berkshire by hundreds
from near and from
and made a
Pittsfield.
memorable page of
historv for the place.
The
historic elm-tree of
THE
J\ILLF]-
OF
THI-.
IIOUSATONIC.
309
Banks
of
the
Mousatonic,
at
Pittsfickl.
which stood and

village,
bourgeoned
foi
more than
in
three centuries in the very centre
of the
was necessarily cut down

park,
1.S64;
and
a
the
ground
it
once
shaded
is
now
pretty
adomed with
fountain
and
soldiers'
monument designed by Launt
Thompson.
The
industry
of
Fittsfield
is
chiefly
directed
to
manufactures of cotton and wool.
;io
Gravlock
Mountain,
from South Adams.
facilitated
by
tlie
fine
water
power
shrunk
which
n:.-
the
Housatonic, though
still
to narrow streams,
avails to furnish.
The
late
large
church
to
which
for
in
the
Dr.
Todd
ministered
all
twenty
vigorous
years
is
are the foremost of half a dozen of various denominations, which
growth.
Several
banks represent the wealth of the
village.
It
has
good
schools, both
public and private.
Of
a fair
the
latter,
Maplewood Female Seminary,
situated
upon charming
grounds, has
won
renown.
capital of
Such
is
Pittsfield, the
the
Housatonic Valley,
social
;
at a slight external
glance.
closer
view would
fine
reveal
more than ordinary
culture
among
its
inhabitants.
in-
Music and the

stitution,
arts
have their happy influence there

"
and a generously-endowed
is
known and
incorporated as the
Berkshire Athenaeum,"
destined
to
be
an
elevating and refining

Pittsfield
sea.
is
power
in the
community.
hundred
feet
eleven situated at an average elevation of nearly

is
above the
defiles,
Its
position
peculiar,
as
being the geographical centre of valleys and

its
affording opportunities for crossing
other flanking mountains such as are found at no

single
point. as
Pittsfield
is
311
the centre of perhaps as

village
;
many
its
distinct attractions for the
sum-
mer
tourist
any other Berkshire

it
and
growing likeness to a
and
social
city in the
it
special facilities
affords
railway,
postal, hotel, shojjping,

all
makes
an excelits
lent place for the headquarters of the visitor in

less
the length and breadth of
match-
shire.
In every direction from the village,
fine,
natural
roads
lead
to
lovely scenes.
distant,
The
Taconic
and the Hoosac ranges of mountains are about four miles

;
on the west
Southern
and east respectively and Northern
and from
their slopes, or their summits,
Berkshire
both
opens
eve,
broad vistas to the eye.

beauty
to
Some
of the reaches of the Housatonic River near the village are of great
its
and there are places on the banks of

sit,
eastern
confluent where
it
would be meet
of a
"
summer
go on
and
read
or
quote
Tennyson's dainty rhymes of the brook that
would
forever."
all
One
of
of the fairest views in

it
the county
that
the
especial pride, perhaps, of the people

in
Pittsfield, as
well
may
be
is
which takes
and overpasses the exquisite conits
tour of
in
Onota Lake, two miles

silvery
to the west.
This view, besides

sweet
immediate
pastoral
loveliness,
the
sheen of
its
waters, and
the
variety of the
^nd wooded
outline
banks that environ them, has

of old
for its central but
remote background the splendid
" Graylock, cloud-girdled on his purple throne."
In the near east rises the fine range of the Washington Hills, of the Hoosac Chain,
over which
the
is
Boston
Railway
is
carried
by sharp gradients of eighty
feet in a mile.
is
On
be
their crest
a romantic
lakelet, called
Ashley Pond, the water of which

its
brought
to
into the village at present only a barely adequate supply for
demands, but soon

Pittsfield
reenforced
from
neighboring
pond, a
recent
purchase
of the
Gas and
Water Company.
Roaring
dashes
Brook, the outlet of a contiguous pond,

the side of the mountain in a rugged cleft
is
wild
mountain-torrent
that
down
is
known
as Tories' Gorge.
This
lies
brook
a tributary of the eastern branch of the Housatonic.

its
To
it,
the eastward, also,
the village of Dalton, with
busy paper-mills;
and beyond
on the
acclivity of
the
Boston Railway, the

pretty
village of Hinsdale,
from which point, as also from Dalton, the very
Windsor
Falls
may
be reached by a brief carriage-drive.
These
falls
lie
at
the
extreme
limit of the review

"
which
"
this article will
make
of the Housatonic Valley.
Be-
yond them the
winding waters
narrow into shining becks and brawling brooks, and

in
make up
the vision pictured by
Holmes
his pleasant verses of
"...
Till,
the stream whose silver-braided
rills
Fling their unclasping bracelets from the

in
hills.
one gleam beneath the forest-wings,

glitter of
Melts the white
a hundred springs."
312
West
of Pittsfield, beyond
to
Onota
already named, a mountain-road leads across

to the village of the
its
Han-
cock
all
Town
Lebanon Springs, and
Lebanon Shakers,
be
this,
affording,
the way, lovelv prospects; but, from
highest point, a scene never to
forgotten.
stretches
It
takes in the whole expanse of the sweet vale of

to the Catskills,
Lebanon, and, beyond
away
vague and violet-hued.

are
Northward of Onota, on the slopes of the Taconics,
found
delightful
bits
of
Hoosac Rivev,
North Adams
Nature
here, the
Lulu Cascade,
much-frequented haunt of those
who
fain
would
find
where the "shy arbutus" hides;

and
far
there,
Rolling Rock, a huge and nicely-poised bowlder;

giant crest, as pretty a
above
it,
on the table of
is
mountain-lake
as
the
to
eye
be
could
covet.
It
called
Berry Pond, but

is
not for the profusion of raspberries
found there in summer.
The name
said to be that of a stout-limbed
and brave-hearted
313
Natur.1l
Bridge,
North Adams.
man who once
lived
on
and
its
borders, and wrested
from
the
scanty
soil
ahout
the
jiond
a livina: for himself

is
family.
The
lakelet has crystal waters, a sparkling,
sandy beach,
of fringed by masses of evergreen and deciduous trees, and to these charms adds that
all
a clear, fliirv-like echo to
sounds upon
lie
its
margin.
a
Northward of
Pittslield
111
Pontoosuc, a jiopulous mill-suburb, and
lake
beanng
314
its
;
name
and, three miles beyond, old Lanesboro'

fail
is
reached by a delisrhtful drive.
Here
the visitor shouUl not
to
make
a slight
circuit,
and gain, either afoot or

'the
in a carriage,
the
summit of Constitution
by
Hill, lying just
west of
a
village
and the iron-furnace.
Of
the view to be obtained

to
this excursion let
resident of
Berkshire, and a contributor

that region, afford the
Appletons' Journal of some popular papers on the glories of
reader a few glimpses
"Though you can

grow dizzy
valleys,
at
drive to the very

rests
summit
if
you
are sure of
your horse, you
will
as
your eye
on the grand prospect outspread before you

in
green,
;
fertile
reminding one of that which shut

feet,
the happy Rasselas

east
;
blue lakes
;
Pontoosuc
your
Onota
tilled,
farther south,
and Silver Lake
of Pittsfield
great stretches of
as old as creation,
table-land, well
and spanned
by shady roads
;
forests that look
and
hills
mantled with a fresher growth
the line of rich foliage which marks the course

;
of the streams that unite to form the Housatonic
Lanesboro' basking on
the
;
hill-side,
with
ville
its
great
elms drooping over
its
old homesteads and quaint road-corners
Stearnsits
and
Barkersville, farther off;

in the light
;
the whole extent of the chief
town
in
the valley,
in
spires
hills
;
gleaming
Lenox, Lee, and Stockbridge, through the opening

cattle,
the
sunny farm-houses, grazing
browsing sheep, brown

Italian sky."
grain-fields, flying
cloud-
shadows
and
route
all
domed by
are
a brighter than an
The
we
now
pursuing
is
aside from the track of the

;
railway which
con-
nects Pittsfield with
Adams and
along
the north the
and the true

of the
tourist
would greatly
prefer to
follow
scarcely
fringes.
its
rural
windings,
a
course
supposed
Upper Housatonic, now

its
it
more than
rapid,
still
laughing
brook, sliding
along under
alder
is
and willow
few miles
the
is
farther north, in the
town of
New
Ashford,
lost in silvery
threads
from
hills.
The
road from the "deserted village" of

its
New
Ashford to the
mountainclose-
Williamstowns
solitary,
but beautiful, with

into
ever-shifting views
of grand
outlines, bringing
one
at length
the
deep shadows
and sweet repose of the
encompassing
of
hills that
keep solemn watch and ward over the time-honored sanctuaries
wisdom
at
Williams College.
has
iiaste
This hasty generalization
done no
that
justice to the interval of

if
twenty miles over

notes were not
village,
which we
have'
glided
with
would be impertinent,
is
these
necessarily telegraphic for brevity.
Williamstown
unique and delightful
with
its
a green park for

borders.
It
is
its
fit
main
street,
and the sparkling, hurrying Hoosac singing along
place for study, and a charming one for
summer
life
and recreation,
though hardly
oppose
for fashionable
dissipation, to which, indeed, its vigilant
wardens evermore
their classic procni.
Visitors at Williamstown,
who
are familiar with Swiss scenery, are
wont
to say that
the splendid views and wonderful atmospheric effects they see there
more
nearly resemble
Alpine pictures than those of any other mountain-recesses
in this land.
Our
promise, in the opening of this
sketch, that
it
would cany the reader beyond

the
315
Flousatonic
fulfilled.
Valley,
has been
He
far
is
now
in
the valley of the
Hoosac, and not

the
from
these
termination
rambles.
of
autumn
Whoever
follows the
railway from Pittsfield to

this
region
passes
twen-
ty miles
try
through a counstrangely
isola-
contrasting
with the deep rural
tion of that just glimpsed
along the by-road through
New
Ashford.
It
is
tract of
new
activities
and
fur-
industries,
of
glass
-
naces
and
sand
quarries, cot-
of lumber-mills
and
ton
looms,
of
woollen-
mills
lets
and populous hamin
succession,
Berk-
shire,
Cheshire,
until
South
Adams,
at
last
he
comes
to
North Adams,
will
where
he
wonder
as
more and more,

he
sees,
more
how
so larofe and
flourishing
and ambitious
to
town has contrived
find
"room
"
and
verefe
enough
amid
the
en-
compassing,
encroaching,
hills,
overhanging
for
its
steady, sturdy growtli.

It is a
Profile
Rock,
iSiortii
Adams.
pushing
;
rival
it,
of Pittsfield
It
behind
probably,
in
g-eneral,
it
but makinsr well-founded
boast of e.xcelline:
the value ot
its
school-projwrtv, as
lie
does equally
city.
in
the cost
is
and elegance of
a
rich
its
chief hotel, which
would
a credit
to
any
North Adams
manufact-
3i6
Hoosac Mountain and Tunnel Work
uring village, where
"
Chinese
cheap labor
cialty
"
has
been a spefor
and a success
It
is
years
"
in
the
shoe-sho{)s.
lis
"'
the upper
is
metropothickly
of
Berkshire, and
more
studded about with

spots
wild and romantic

sister.
than
its
southern
GrayMassachusetts,
is
lock, the
loftiest
streets.
mountain
It
is
in
within easy distance, though not visible

less
all
from
its
perhaps more easily reached from South Adams, a

the
bustling
its
village, four miles
below, whence
commanding summit may be

homes.
seen
in
royal
pomp,
rising majestically just over its pleasant

is
This
the less picturesque, however, of the
two or three routes by which the top

by the Housatonic
of Graylock
explorer,
may be
reached.
The mountain
exercise already taken
when he comes within

the
the shadows of Graylock, will stand
him
in stead
as
if
he
contemplates
chooses the
per."
conquest
of the
kingly height.
route,
It
is
no
child's
play, especially
"
he
North-Adams and Bald-Mountain
bv
tliat
mountain-cluster, the
least,
Hopin
All the roads need great improvement, and there should be one, at
condition.
kept
excellent
"
-But there
is
no reaching the top without

is
toil,
without fatigue
no
be-
royal road,"
though the end of the way

the
most
royal.
When
Graylock, and
Hopper, and Money Brook, have been explored
or
THE VALLEY OF
tween these explorations,
TLIE
HO USA TONIC.
are dainty
left
317
as separate adventures
there
rare
and most compensating
"bits" about North Adams, which should not be
unseen.
freak
it
Some
of
tlie
its
of these
lie
close
about
that
curious object, the
Natural
Bridge, a
waters of a
accessories so
pretty
brook among the rocks
itself
a scene for the painter, as
and
com-
monly
are for the photographer.
Tiic
Xatmal Bridge
is
a vast roof of marble, through

fretting toil, to excavate
and under which a mere brook has yet contrived, with incessant,
a
tunnel
is
passage five or six yards wide, and ten times as long.
This wonderful
via-
duct
loftily
arched over the ton'ent, and displays

oftener with
its
marble sides and ceiling somestains
times
of a
pure white, but
strange
discolorations, as of mineral
or
lichen -growths.
Tiirough this weird corridor the brook

ear and
filling
flows with
thunderous echoes,
booming up
to the
the
mind
of the beholder with strange, wild fancies.
In the ravine of this brook there are
many
picturesque points to arrest the tourist's

is
attention, but next in interest to the bridge itself
a strange,
columnar group of rocks,
which
at
its
overhanging
crest
assumes, to a
facile
imagination, the aspect of gigantic
features,
and
bears, therefore, the appellation of
Profile
Rock.
These and other scenes
are within a mile or
two of the
still
village,
where there
reluctant
will
be found inducements for more
than
ordinary lingering, and
more
leave-taking, on the part of the visitor.

ct)ach or
Those who have enjoyed the magnificence and varied charms of the eight-mile
carriage
its
drive from
North Adams
doubtless
to the east
end of the great

that
it
Hoosac Tunnel, during

an
long working, will
almost
lament
is
now
accomplished
fact,
because the splendid road across the great Hoosacs will
now
be no more needed, and will
very likely
tain-ride.
fall
into disrepair, thus spoiling a
most unique and almost unparalleled mounall
That road climbs the

and
across,
Hoosacs by easy-returning gradients, affording

east
slope, marvellously-fine
lies
the
way
up,
and down on the

is
prospects.
The west
mouth
of the tunnel
only two miles from North Adams, and

full
amid the picturesque

hills.
scenery of the Hoosac Valley, and
in
front of the
monarch of the Berkshire

skill.
The Hoosac Tunnel
is
bold and fortunate feat of engineering

it
Second
in
length onlv to the famous Mont-Cenis Tunnel under the Alps,
pierces the solid mica-
ceous slate of the Hoosac Range with a grand artery nearly

opens, after
the
incredible
toil
five
miles in length, and thus
and immense outlay, a railway-passage between

ten
miles
final
Boston and
Hudson
River, about
shorter
than
any preexisting
this
route.
Long
before
these
pages have reached their
numbering,
tunnel, already
open from end to
end, will be the scene of swift and multitudinous transit for passenger and freight trains
speeding between the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans.
Upon
that busy and tireless
How and ebb
of
will
life
and
labor, old
Graylock, and his
compeers of the Taconic and Hoosac Ranges,
look
down
as peacefully as they did
upon the turmoil and trouble and
disaster with
which the western^ end of the vast work

if
was wrought to proud completeness, adding something to the physical and moral,
to the natural, beauty and grandeur of the Berkshire
hills.
not
THE UPPER
MISSISSIPPI,
FROM
ST.
LOUIS TO
R.
ST.
ANTHONY'S FALLS.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ALFRED
WAUD.
%
-4'
Grand-Tower Rock, below
St.
Louis.
T N the description i a leadinc. place.

golden-hued
dis
"tales
of
It
royal right, claims American scenery the Mississippi River, as of the stream, with which are connected all is our Nile, our mythic
of the early travellers.

in its waters,
Monsters
eager
to
like
Scylla, whirlpools
like
Charyb-
were reported to lurk
seize
upon the canoes of adventurous
travellers,
and drag them
below
its
whelming
flood.
The
voices of spirits-messengers
from bluff to of the awful Man-i-tou-reverberated from the dismal evergreens of

in^ prairies were
its
bluff,
or issued with
tribes that
grewsome sound
its
southern banks.
in
The
hunted on
the
border-
cannibals, false
friendship, implacable in war, having
tomahawk
poisoned. ever brandished, and the arrow-point
But,
if
there were these dreadful things
THE UPPER
boats, but the packet-steamers
culty.
MISSISSIPPI.
327
year that these are perceptible, and at that season

pass
they offer some hinderance to freightleast diffi-
through the troubled waters without the
The scenery
up.
at
this
is
point begins to give a promise of what
awaits the
tourist
higher
The stream
of a deep-blue color, or rather appears so from contrast with

side.
the limestone-bluffs on each
The
islets,
islands
begin
to
be
in
more and more numerous.

extent, close to the
Sometimes there
forming, as
it
are
clusters
little
its
of
only a few rods
l)ank
were, a
archipelago.
The
stream, in
these
sequestered
nooks, loses
the steady strength of

scenes.
current,
and seems to
linger with
fondness
amid the pleasing

often with
The edges
of the
isles are
fringed with broad-leaved rushes, and
the
old Arsenal.
Rock
Island.
purple
iris.
Lilies spread their broad, green pads over the
smooth water,
])resenting every
variety of blossom, fullv opened, half opened, just opening, and simjily in the bud.
are also the bright-yellow flowers of the watcr-bcan.
There
In such spots as this the trees upon

ver\-
the islands attain

tall.
quite
respectable
growth, the cotton-woods especially becoming
Nearest the water's edge one sees generally willows and scrub-oak, the latter grow-
ing very thick and bushy.
There
is
generally, at
the
extremity of the
islands
if
islands, a
long
not
spot of clear, white sand, which
will
is
grow
to
into
other
the
current
does
be
wash
ered
it
away, which, however,

;
it
sure
do sooner or
years,
later.
Few
are
can
consid-
permanent
some only
flourish
for a few brief
and then
washed away
328
hut
there
are
others,
antl
PIC TURESQ UE
A MERICA
become protected
the
which have been formed near the shore, whicli

cxceedinoly,
ice,
by sand-bars,
tlourish
until
some sudden thaw

utterly.
in
spring
sends
down an avalanche
of
floating
and whelms them
Leaving behind Keokuk,

the steamer resumes
its
glid-
ing
motion
over
the
the
gentle
Mississippi,
and
neverwater,
ending
islands,
panorama
and
of
bluffs,
recommiles
mences.
higher
joins
About seventy
uji,
the
Iowa
River
in
the
left
stream,
coming
on the
of the
hand.
Fifty miles
same
identical
scenery,
without a change,
traveller
brings
of
the
to
one
this
the
few
the
features
river.
of
part
of
Most of the
are
islands in
the Mississippi
temporary
;
formations
there
are
of
sand
in
fact,
but three of rock
and we
have
now come
to
the largest and the most

portant,
It
is
im-
named Rock
miles
Island.
three
long,
and
has an area of nearly a thou-
sand
acres, the greater part of

is
which
cleared, the rest being

fine
forest-trees.
covered with
The
stone,
soil
is,
of
course,
lime-
and has been
utilized for
fortifica-
building government
tions
and arsenals of quite a
formidable character.
Forrest-Roads, Rock Island.
The
old
is
arsenal, of
which a sketch
presented, wâs at one time the
headquarters of the famous General Scott during the
Black-Hawk War.
This has long
been abandoned, and has been

character;
for here the
replaced
by limestone structures of the most

its
enduring
island
United States has
armory headquarters, and the whole
THE UPPER
The approaches
ladders, without
MISSISSIPPI.
by
stairs thai
;
333
to these u|)pcT houses are mostly
might
it
easily be called
exposing one to a charge of being
sarcastic
l)iit
is
worth the trouble
of
mounting these ladders

There
is
a few times every day, to have such a landscape unrolled before
the eye.
a stretch of bare,
sandy island
Central
close
rise
in
tiie
centre of the river, across which
comes the railway-bridge of the
Illinois
Kaihoad.
it
There
is,
at
the
fartiier
end
of the island, a large shot-factory, and

the blue sky like a light tlame.
are very hilly,
to
the
shot-tower, which darts
up into
Beyond
the bluffs of the eastern shore, which here
and present beautiful contrasts of green verdure with glaring white.

are (piite covered with a dense vegetation.
The
tops of
many
Far bevond
rolls
the
dreamy
Eagle Point,
near
Dubuque.
prairie,
melting
in
the distance into the sky, wiiich. t)lue

it
above, becomes
is
jialer
and paler
as
it
nears the horizon, until
is
an
alisolute
gray.
This
tin'
outward look.
lines.
The
is
inward has plenty of (piaint

wall, there a stairway.
effects,
'{'here is
is
an
ai)S()lute
confusion of
Here
Above
that wall
a house, witli
more
stairways.
Then comes
another wall, and perhaps another house, or a castellated mass of limestone, overlooking
the architectural muddle.
It
is
as quaint as
any of the scenes

the terraces
in
the
(ild
cities
of
Lom-
bardy upon
the
slopes
fig.
of the
mountains,
among
cultivated with the grape,
the olive, and the

Just
beyond
Dubuque we come upon one
of the
landmarks of the
pilots
of the
334
upper river
PIC TURESQ UE
AMERIC.
live
Eagle
Point, a splemlid
St.
l)lutt,
some
hundred
feet
hisrh.
Tlu'
railroad
from Dubuque to
it
Paul runs ui)on
tiie
western side here, and eontinues to do so until

It
erosses at
Hastings, a long
wav
north.
runs
at
the
base
of the
liluffs,
and comliluffs
mands
the picturesque points almost as well as the steamer.
At
this jxiint
the
are
unusually liigh and massive, presenting often another variety of mountain-form, in which
the
summit
rolls
down,
a
as
it
were, and the perpendicular walls beneath seem like a short
column supporting
the
monstrous dome.
blends
wall,
Eagle
with
Point
the
is
not of this
kind, however;
that,
but
it
sloping
portion
so
gradually
perpendicular
to
the
eye,
seems one enormous
descending from the forest above to the water beneath.
The
Buena
Vista.
trees here attain a large size,
and dot the champaign country that stretches
far
away on
as to pro-
every
side.
Sometimes the
cliffs
have been so changed by the action of water

are
duce those colossal
sloping
is
banks which
visible, the
called
"
downs "
in a
England, where not a

rich
particle of the limestone
whole being covered with
mantle of green.
The
effect of these
downs
is
peculiarly pleasing in sudden turns of the river,
when
in the
distance a portion of the

belief
Mississippi
seems to be
is
isolated,
and fancy cheats us with the

of a
that
the
broad, gleaming sheet

these
great roofs
is
the
commencement
become
a
romantic
lake
among
the
hills.
Then
when
of green
most exquisite background, more

Perhaps one of
especially
the
landscape
tamed
down by
a thin, silvery mist.
THE UPPER
picturesque, but give no idea
MISSISSIPPI.
of
337
or suggestion
what the
bluff
was before
it
cruml)lcd
away, leaving, as
it
were,
its
skeleton
is
visible.
i)roa(l,
The mouth
of the Wisconsin
but the water
is
shallow, and the channel

bluffs
is
obstructed by sand-bars, covered with rank vegetation.

side, arc
'Ihe
here,
on the opposite
covered with
trees,
hills
and, both
in
their
contour and
general ap])earance, remind
one very much of the

ern side
along the western branch of the Sus(|uehanna.

State
of
On
the west-
we
are
still
in
the
Iowa but the eastern shore belongs
to Wisconsin,
Three
Miles above
La Crosse.
one of the great wheat-raising regions.

have something to do with the
in
traffic
it
All along the line of the

cereals, but
river here, thi'
towns
in
most of
or
it
is
becoming concentrated
Dulnique.
Somehow, whether
is
imagination
it
not can scarcely be analyzed, but

im-
the air here seems jnirer and
more
i)racing than
did below, yet the sun's rays arc

full
mensely powerful.
sun, are bare
The
bluffs,
that are directly e.\i)Osed to the
force
of the
summer
But,
blue
of vegetation
as
the
palm of one's hand
masses
of
white
rock.
wherever a curve gives a shelter to vegetation, the trees spring up joyously to the
33^
air,
and the wild-vines hang
This
is,
tlicir
R'stoons around the fantastic spires and jutting cornices

trutii,
hills,
of the Umestonc.
in
sober
an ex(|uisite part of the
river,
from
tlie
greater
variety of the scenery, the
wooded
antl
the exquisitely pure character
of the water,
which
is
clear
and limpid as that of Lake

hills
Leman.
The
blufTs
alternate
from
massive,
deeply-wooded
to long walls of limestone, with bases
and huge cornices and bartizan
towers, deep crypts, and isolated ehinmeys.
Often, from the deep heart of the oaks and

splinter of bare lime, white as ala-
maples crowning a majestic

baster, in the
it
bluff,
starts
up a skeleton
hill
pure
air,
little
reminder that the
had been much higher.
Sometimes
will
not be a pinnacle, but a
regular series of towers or donjon-keeps, with wild-vine
Queen's BhiR,
below Trempealeau.
banners waving from the outer ramparts.
In other places, the

a
summits
will
be entirely
In the
covert
to
denuded of timber, but

ravines
will
be covered with
are
bright
mantle
the
of emerald very
in
turf
between,
the
trees
low,
thick,
and
bushy,
place
for
the
of a deer, and one watches instinctively to see

detect the
some motion
herd.
its
the leafy shade, and
brown
antlers of
some
leader of
the
In
the
into
midst
the
of
these
wonders
there
comes
a break,
where
a little
river ]wurs
is
waters
Father of Streams.
smiling prairie, level as a billiard-table,
spread on each
built
side
of the
mouth
all
for
sev-
eral miles.
tribes,
Here
is
the
town of La Crosse,
upon the
jirairie
where
the Indian
for
hundreds of miles around, used
to
have their great ball-playing, that game
THE UPPER
which
called
MISSISSIPPI.
539
the
" la
French
crosse,"
its
travellers
and which
to
tliis
has given
stirring
name
city,
bustling
with
manufactures, and noisy with

the
screams of locomotives.
still
And
right
still
we
are
on
the
bank of the
in
;
river,
and
the the
State
of
Wisshore
consin
is
opposite
in
Minnesota, also a great
grain
and
lumber
to
mart.
see
Here we begin
rafts
big
the
coming
with
down
often
stream,
twelve
at
men tugging away

clumsy,
against
the
huge
the
oars,
battling
swift
cunent.
val-
Above La
Crosse, the
ley of the Mississippi widens
considerably,
recede,
and
the
hills
leaving
long
slopes
of
upland, covered with no-
ble trees.
fectly
The
river
is
per;
studded with
islands
in fact,
one
is
never out of
sight of them.
They
of
are
all
low,
soil,
composed
washings
alluvial
from
the
banks, and are covered with

a
dense
growth
of
shrub-
oak,
from which
-
occasional
cotton
woods
soar
up
to
considerable height.
Somethe cenfringe
ever>'
times
tre,
they are
in
sometimes
banks
;
they
in
the
but,
position,
they
add
greatly
to
the
beautv of the scene.
540
PIC TURESQ UE AMERICA.

The
cases,
bluffs here arc, in
many
feet
over six
hundred
varied
high,
and
of
shapes,
the
pyramidal
beginning to
recur-
appear with persistent

rence.
Queen's
tary
Bluff, a
fragmenis
pyramidal
the
bluff,
one
of
landmarks
by
which
the pilots
know
that they are

fairy
approaching the
of
region
Trempealeau.
Queen's
Bluff has not only been cleft

in
twain by the greater Misof

the
past,
sissippi
,
but
its
face has
been scooped out by
the
winds,
filled
and
Nature
has
kindly
up the gloomy
fine
is
void
with
trees.
Its
di-
southern
rectly
side
exposed
to
is
the
a
noonday
sun,
and
<
bare,
precipitous
mass of glaring white, without

so
much
as
it
blade
of
grass to shade
fierce kisses.
from the sun's
There are great

which are
in
cracks
tively
in
it,
posi-
blue
shadow, from
the intensity of the glare.
The steamboat
glides ontide,
ward over the glassy
and
nears rapidly one of the three
rockv
sippi.
islands
of the
Missisat
The
first
was
is
Rock
at
Island, the second
here
Trempealeau,
miles
aliout
I>a
eighteen
It
above
Crosse.
0f0tmii
is
sometimes
Island,
called
for
its
Mounrocky
tain
THE UPPER
height
attains
in
MISSISSIPPI
five
is
341
one
part
an
altitude
of
it
hundred
so
in
and
sixty
it
feet.
Bui
be
a
the
sin
name which
to
the
It
it
French
rises
"
voyageurs
out
gave
poetical
that
would
change
it.
sheer
qui
of the
a
water
I'eau "
the centre
of the channel, and the

in
French
called
Mont
trempe
(Mountain which dips
the Water).
Nothing can be conceived more
beautiful
than the approach to this most romantic and
picturesque spot, which, in the writer's opinion, exceeds in positive beauty the far-famed
scenery of
Lake Pepin, twenty-five
miles up the
river.
The
river
lies
like a lake in the
%.
Trempealeau Island.
bosom of
the
hills,
which are so varied
in
beauty that they defy description.
They do not
the setting of emerpresent an amphitheatre of peaks, but are rather like an edging or
alds
lines,
around a diamond.
every
Their
forms offer every
i)Ossible
combination of picturesque
known conformation
of limestone-rocks, blended with ever-changing hues of

to
tiie
green, from the deep tints of evergreens

river
bright
emerald
all
of grassy plains.
The
its
seems to sleep below,
its
placid
surface giving back

at
the glorious
bluffs, as
if
beauty of
env nroning.
The locomotive
creeps
the
base
of the great
conscious of
>'îSte.
^î4
Chimney Rock, near Fountain
City.
intrusion,
and emits
its
whistle
in
plaintive, deprecatory
islets that nestle
manner, that
the
hills
echo
and reecho with increasing pathos.
The
around the huge form of Tremair.
pealeau are mostly covered with sedge-crashes, waving with the slightest puff of
The
mountain
is
by no means
bare.
There
are
parts
which are covered by thick

;
forests,
growing with the greatest luxuriance on the steep ascent

nothing but the barren rock
is
and there are spaces where

exposed to view.
seen, with
all
its
huge
stratification
limestone Spots of the barren rock are covered with a minute lichen, which gives to the
a
warm,
is
rich effect, like red
sandstone
in
other spots
for
it
is
dazzling white, like marble.

to
There
a winding path
up Trempealeau
those
who
care
make
the ascent, and.
THE UPPER
great tre^s
that
line
MISSISSIPPI.
345
the
bases
of Trempealeau are worthy of the Titan that has nourbranches, as
ished them, and develop such trunks, such

little
do
if
the
e>x's
good
to see.
The
isles
crouch
at
the
foot
of
the
mountain-island as
bolt of
seeking pr<.tection from the
rush of the spring waters or the live
the storm.
Tiiey are of every shape, and

a
the combinations of their trees and their sedgy banks
offer
thousand hints of beauty
Limestone Natural Walls,
below
.St.
Paul.
and suggestions of romance to the

cotton-trees
a
trice,
intelligent glance that takes

|)nrk
;
them
in.
vSometimes the
oar,
clump themselves
at
as in a
anon, by
few strokes of the
and
in
one gazes
a vista
of branches through which, obscurely in

a great
the distance, one
sees through the tremulous

clear,
summer
broad flank of darkened limestone.
And
the
limpid water that glides around them, and that laves
the rocky sides of the grand
346
in
Trempealeau, gleams with such brightness, and glows so undc-r the sunlight, and sleeps
silvery lengths
under the moonlight, that one cannot but love
it.
In the distance, lookis
headland ing back regretfully from the village of Trempealeau, every cape and
softened,,
and the green hues of the forest-clad sides, become

httle isles
warmish gray, verging
in
blue.
The
itself
appear like dots of
trees,
springing up out of the silvery wa\e that spreads
out
in
a dazzling sheet of reflected sunshine.
And,
let
if
any one,
after seeing these things,
shall pine for the castled crags of
the Rhine,
him come and survey Chimney Rock,

It
is
near Fountain City, some twenty-five miles higher up.
true that the

precise
hand of man
never
wrought
at
these
things, but, for
all
that,
it
is
the
image of Chepstow
*Sffc%#
Near
St.
Paul.
Keep,
ruin
in "
merrie England," and
is,
to
all
intents and purposes, as
much
a castle as
any
of the
German
the
river.
The
fail
spectator
to
who views
it
this
peculiar
mass of limestone
But,
from above
river
will
see
why
received
its
name.
from
is
below,
and passing
abreast,
one observes that the extreme mass on the right hand

a
altogether
detached, and
presents
very striking
in
resemblance
\îrginia.
to
the
enormous stone chimneys

from
a
which are
built
up outside the houses
The
castle rises
is
dense growth
of trees, mostly of maples, and at the base of the bluff there
a sort of
natural terrace,
very broad and even, which

the terrace of a proud
is
free
from vegetation of anv kind, and looks not unlike
palatine home.
Below
this
is
an accumulation of
soil,
washed
THE UPPER
with
the
Mississippi.
falls
MISSISSIPPI.
351
The
bv
famous
here
are
no means what one would

imagine
of
from
the
poem
is
Longfellow.
little
is
There
vet
but
there
at
water,
is
what
more admirable
than
at
its
its
-lowest
highest
chief
in the
volume.
For
fall
the
is
^ftiri^.-'l
beauty of the
crossing of the
deli-
cate spiral threads
of water,
producing
an
effect
which
lace.
reminds
one
of
fine
feet
About two hundred

low
as
be-
there
this
it
is
bridge, and,
thirty
feet
is
only
long,
er in
will assist
the
read-
forming a correct idea

proportions
of
this
of
the
somewhat too famous

ract.
cata-
The gorge
is
elliptic
in
form from the centre of

falls
the
to
the
bridge,
and
quite
narrow
depth
is
evervwhere.
The
feet.
about
sixty
On
each side
falls
of the
top of the
are
numer-
ous birch-trees, and the summits of the
gorge
crowned
Be-
with various
forest-trees.
low the bridge, the

banks
to
bluffs or
on
each
side
cease
be precipitous, and
come
watheir
sloping
ter's
down
to
the
all
edge,
with
trees,
the branches
of
into
many
the
fall-
actually
brink.
dipping
The
veil of
the
352
in<^
water
is
so thin
laches
tliat
one can see the rock behind
it.
There
is
good path behind,
which even
can follow, except
when
the wind
blows
directly opposite,
when
the
adventurous traveller would get well drenched.
By
rail
from
St.
Paul to
St.
Anthony, on the Mississippi River, the distance
is
about
ten miles, and every pilgrim in search of the picturesque ends his journey here.
apolis
is
Minne-
on one
side of the river,
and the
city
of
St.
Anthony on
if
the other.
The
falls
can be seen with equal advantage from either side, though,
one wants to try both views,
the suspension-bridge enables one to do so with perfect ease.

ract are very line, in fact
The
rapids above the cata-
much
finer
than the
last
fall
itself,
for the river is
broad above, nearly
seven hundred
falls
feet wide, and,
within the
often
mile,
makes
a descent of fifty feet.
As
the
are only eighteen feet, they
disappoint the spectator,

into
more
especially as
com-
merce has interfered with them, and converted them

that of
water-power, second only to
Rocky
The
Island at Moline.
jostling waters
The
rapids
are
in
reality splendid,
even
in
the sum-
mer-time.
heave up great surges several

In the centre there each
is
feet high,
from which the

of water,
circle
in
wind
strikes sheets of spray.
a broad, well-defined mass
like a ridge, elevated this
over the stream on
side.
Furious
eddies
boil
it
and
with
deep, gurgling sound, and,
when
a pine-tree
comes down,
goes under, and

of bark
comes shooting up
stripped
off,
into the air hundreds
of feet below, but with every particle
and great splinters wrenched from the hard wood by the battling currents
Just above the
fall,
underneath.
on the very verge, the waters steady themselves

recross,
for the
leap, but, before that, the
waves cross and
and stagger with
blind, furious haste.
The
best view
seems to be from the
centre
of the
suspension-bridge, for there you can

factories
see the grand rapids,
and do not see the dams and
on either
side.
Looking up
the
falls,
however, you do gain something, for you have a
full
view of the extraordinary

ice.
piles of limestone-slabs forced off
by the united action of the currents and the

with
the
greatest
regularity.
These
are
heaped
in
many
places along the shore
The
slabs are
like the tops of tables,
many
of
them
as
smooth
as possible, this being the distinguishing
characteristic of
limestone-cleavage.
And, the
force
of the water being in one direction

left
below the
falls,
the slabs are not broken in the descent, but are gently
in
by the reced-
ing waves along the shore
regular
rotation.
Still,
from
this point of view, the
dams
and other obstructions are too plainly

the
in sight, and,
though they cannot make one forget

all
immense volume
of the river that
comes leaping onward, yet they do destroy

water-fall.
the
romance and much of the beauty of the
THE VALLEY OF THE GENESEE

I.
DOUGLAS WOODWARD.
^1~*HERE
is
said to be
in
^
nia,
mountain-peak
Potter County, Pennsylva-
standing upon
observer
wliicli
the
the
may mark
of
fountain-head
two
rivers.
Though
adjacent
flowing
gorges,
di-
through
their courses
are soon
vided,
the
one
tending
oth-
southward, while the

er
marks out
to
winding
at
it-
way
the
harbor
losing
--^=^
Charlotte, there
self in
the
waters
of
Lake Ontario.
pathway of the
To
the
follow
down
the
southward-flowing
traveller
stream
would
lead
through
every
that
variation
of climate and verdure

affords
our land
now
of
shadowed by the rugged

Alleghanies,
peaks
the
then
over
till
rough
rapids
and
dangerous
shallows,
are
the
smoky
precincts
of Pittsburg
reached, with
the blending waters of the

farther,
Monongahela.
by south,
i-ts
and
bearing
west
course
the
leads
through
fruitful
valleys,
and
along
busy wharves of Cincinnati, Louisville, and Cairo.
Here the
are
clear,
fresh waters
of
tlie
mounin
tain-rivulet
finally
merged and
;
lost
the
^^^
expanse of the Mississippi
and, afloat
on the
borne
Railroad-Bridge,
Portage.
bosom
on
its
of the
Father
of
Rivers,
to
we
delta,
are
sluormsh
current
the
and the
borders of the Southern gulf
This tour of fancy ended, the river-voyager retraces
his
path
till
he
stands
agam
upon the Northern summit, and

116
girds
himself for
the
second
and
northward journey.
354
This, though short as
\\YZ
PICTURESQUE A AJ ERICA.
compared with
all
his soutliwaid course, will
\'ct
prox'c
one
(jf
exceedcall
bcautv, and rich in

It
is
those varied
phases which
that
iniilc
to
fomi what
anil,
lies
we
the
picturesque.
to the "beautiful
its
Genesee"
we now
turn;
as the valley that

far to the
it,
bears
its
name, and owes
richness to the river's turbulent moods,
north-
ward,
in
the limits of the neighboring

tirst
Empire
its
is
is
State,
we
hasten toward
trusting to the
paths through which the river
made
way.
not
In
peculiar
its
early
course,
the
Genesee
marked
the
by
at
any exceptional
Portage
beautiful
beauty
or
that
charm of surroundings.
asserts
its
Nor
it
till
falls
are
reached
the
of
river
all
claim to recognition as one of the
most
and picturesque
our Eastern streams.

tourist,
if
The summer
will
he
is
leave
the
car
of the
Erie
Railway
at
Portage Village,
be
first
attracted by
what
the least picturesque though an important feature in the
foreground
a
and that
is
the great bridge which spans the ravine and river at this point
work which
will well
skill.
repay a careful survey, since

or,
it
is
regarded as a triumph ot
is
the
bridge-builder's
This bridge,
its
more
world.
First
properly, viaduct,
It
said
at
to
a
be
the
largest
wooden
structure of
kind
in
the
crosses
the
;
river
point
hardly a
stone's-throw above the
brink of the
or
Upper
Fall
and
its
lightly-framed piers,
with
their
straight
lines
reaching from the granite base to the road-way above, contrast

it
strangely with the wild roughness of the natural chasm
spans.
The reason given by

complete view of
the artist for not presenting
an
"
extended and architecturally

is
this great
"
;
work
is
not without
force.
This
a tour in search of the
picturesque," he says
and the
straight lines, sharp angles,
and cut-stone buttresses of a

this
railway-bridge do not belong to that order of beauty."

of the
artist's
Assenting to
of the
spans.
just estimate
mission,
we
turn
away from
this hasty survey

it
bridge
to
the
con-
templation of the rough-hewn, rugged walls of the chasm
Divided
for
an instant by the stone buttresses of the bridge, the waters of the river
unite again, just in time to present a bold

first
fall.
and
unbroken
front
is
upon
the
brink
of the
As
the body of water which passes ovêr these
falls
comparatively small
feet
in
exsur-
cept
in
seasons of flood
and
as
the
iirst
precipice
it
is
but
sixty-eight
height,
the effect
would be of
little
moment, were
not for the striking character of the
roundings.
Entering the gorge a short distance above the Inink of

has
cut
for
itself
this
Upjêr
rise
Fall,
the
river
wild,
rugged channel, the walls of which

feet,
in
perpendicular
height of from two to six hundred
each successive
fall
resulting in a deepening of
the chasm, and a consequent increase in the height of the rocky barriers.
It
is
this
chasm that constitutes the

at
distinctive feature in the
upper course of the

Fall,
it
Genesee.
in
Beginning abruptly
until
point
not
il\r
above the
is
Upi)er
increases
depth and wildness

its
the village of
Mount Morris
as
reached, at which
it
point the
stream makes
exit
from the rocky confines
abruptly as
entered
them, and, as
THE VALLEY OF THE GENESEE.
355
.Middle
Falls,
Portage.
though to atone
ness
tles
for the wildset-
of
at
its
early- course,
once
into
sfentle
and life-giving
rich
current,
gliding
through
its
meadows
and
a
fertile
lowlands,
way marked by
lu.xuriant
growth
of
grass and woodland.

features
in
But there are other

of Iôrtage which
notice,
the region
deserve
these
more
extended
and
to
we
willingly return.
in
Having recovered from

gentle
mile,
their
first
hold leap, the waters unite and flow onward

or
current, with
an
occasional
ripple
miniature
fall is
rajiid,
for the distance of
half a
when
the brink of the
second
and
highest
reached.
Over
feet.
this the waters
pour, in an
unbroken
sheet, a distance of
one hundred
and
side, a
(en
At
the
base of
this fall the waters
have
carved
out,
on the western
at
dark
cave, which
may
be
approached by a wooden stairway, standing

the depths of a crater.
the foot of which
we
see the sky as from
556
Ascending aoain
to
tiic
plateau
Iris,
tlial
reaches out on a line with the brink of this
tall,
we come
in
sight of
Glen
rural
home, the
fortunate
owner of which
is
evi-
for the beauties with which dently the possessor of a sympathizing and appreciative taste
he
is
surrounded.
Lower
Falls,
Portage.
precipice stands the lawn that divides Glen-Iris Cottage from the brink of the linked with that of the a rude log-cabin, which is in the possession of a history so closely
Upon
first
inhabitants of this wild region that
it
becomes
artist
it
at
once a
monument
of peculiar inter-
est.
The form
is
of this cabin
is
given by the
with so careful a regard for truth that a

it
is,
description
not needed.
We
have called
merely a log-cabin; and yet
in
truth,
what was once a village an ancient Indian council-house, and stands alone, the onlv ruin of

of the Iroquois. of land overiooking the Genesee, about twenty -two miles above
Ml
This ancient council-house of Caneadea stood originally upon a bluff

its
present
site.
It
was
it
the
last
relic
of aboriginal
sovereignty in
the valley, and
it
is
not
surprising
that
should be so jealously guarded

stands.
by
its all
present owner, Mr. Letchworth, on
whose lawn
it
During the
here
Indian wars,
the white captives brought in from the South

this
and
its
East were
received,
and compelled to run the gantlet before
council-house,
doors being their only goal of safety.

to
Among
a
the famous captives
who were
thus
put
the
test
was Major Moses van Campen,

This
building
name
distinguished in the annals of the
wars with the Iroquois.
sheltered
Mary Jemison, "the white woman
of
Imlian
Council House.
the
Genesee," after her long, fearful march from the Ohio to her
It
home and
final
resting-
place in the valley beyond.

to
was here
There
that the chiefs of the

is
Seven Nations were wont

its
hold
their
councils
the logs
of war.
is
no record of the date of same

as
their
construction, but
upon one of
fathers
the sign of a cross, the
that
which the early Jesuit

Besides
its
were knowMi to have adopted as the symbol of
faith.
this
single
evidence of the presence of the stranger, the old council-house bears upon
the
rough sides
country, and
marks and signs
of
the Indians
all
who
are
now without
forests,
home
or
yet
who once
could
call
these wild
passes, royal
and
broad
acres, their
own,
by virtue of a long inheritance.
When
the Indians took their departure to
more western
55S
PICTURESQ UE AMERICA.
High Banks,
Portage.
reservations, the
old
council-house
came
it
into
the
possession
for
fifty
of
white
squatter,
who
guarded
It
is
it
against decay, and
made
his
home
years.
at
this council-house that

l)luffs,
now
stands on the
lawn
Glen
Iris,
in
full
view of
his
the distant
and within but a stone's-throw of the Middle

in this
last
Fall.
Prompted by
own worthy
interest
relic
its
of the
old
league,
Mr.
Letchwoith caused the

it
council-house to be removed from

stands.
as
it
original site at Caneadea,
and erected where

the
now
In
effecting
this
removal, great care was taken to place

stick
building
to
j)rccisely
originally
stood,
each
occupving the
same
relative
position
llie
others.
At
the rededication of the building, in
the autunni
of 1S72, there were present twenty-

two
Indians.
559
Among
these
justly- distinguished
guests
were the grandsons of
Mary
Jemison, Cornplanter, Red -Jacket, Tall Chief, Captain

other chiefs
Brant, Governor
histor)'
Blacksnake, and
region.
whose names
are
associated with
the
early
of this
Many
of these strange guests wore the costumes of their

lighted; the pipe of peace
tribes.
The
council-fire
was again
the
be
identical
one presented by Washington to Red -Jacket

and dignified
chiefs,
was passed again around the

natives of the valley, and
circle
of grave
many
of
whom
all
were
whose ancestors were once the

fine
sole possessors of
;
this land.
These men were

followed the
first
fire.
said
silent
It
to
representatives
of their race
in
and the speeches that

all
ceremony were delivered

was an occasion worthy of
in
the Seneca tongue, with
the old
eloquence and
the last
a lasting record, as this was,
no doubt,
Indian council that will ever be held
the valley of the Genesee.
After the Revolutionary
War
the league of the Iroquois was broken, the
Mohawks,
->;^;.^^^^^'^^^^^W&^^
High Banks, Mount Morris.
36o
with
I5iant
at
their head, entering the service of thtHiitish, while
the Scnecas remained
true to the
new claimants
feutl
of their
soil.
Thereafter,
Mohawk
tliiir
and
Seneca
met
only
as
enemies; nor was the

sons
of
healed until the day of this
last
council, wlien the grand-
Brant
and
Cornplanter shook
hands across the
council-fire,
and there smoked
the iîpe of peace.
The
leaves
lonely council-house, the dying embers, and the dull rustle of the falling
autumn
race
all
seemed
in
accord with this
the
last
scene
in
the
history of that
wild
whose
light
has gone out with the rising of the

to the river,
new
sun.
for
Turning again
we
follow^
down
a wild mountain-road
the distance
of two miles, at which point a narrow, winding foot-path leads

defile.
down
a steep
and rugged
Descending
Falls.
this,
and guided by the rush of waters below, we suddenly come upon

the waters of the river are gradually led into narrower channels,
canal, which,
the
Lower
Here
until the stream

its
becomes a deep-cut
rushing
down
that
in swift
current between
a
narrow
limits,
widens out just upon the brink of the
fall,
more nearly resembles
steep rapid than either of the others.

are a feature of this
fall,
Standing upon one of the projecting rocks which

catch occasional glimpses of the
cavern's
bed, so
leads
we can only
dense
and obscuring are the mist-clouds.
A
its
second and
more hazardous pathway

Portage
falls
;
from these rocky observatories to the base of

course of the river
is
this the last of the
and the
now
lies
deep down
in
rock-enclosed limits, until the broad valley
reached.
To
more
Banks
this
rocky
defile
the
general
name
of
High Banks
locality.
is
given
name rendered
the
definite
at
by a prefix denoting their immediate
Thus we have
High
Portage, the
Mount-Morris High Banks, and,

fall
at the
lower end of the valley,
the Hig-h
Banks below the lower
at
Rochester.
full
To
the tourist
river's
who
is
possessed of a
measure of courage and strength, a journey

will
along the
shore from the lower
falls
to the valley
far
is
reveal
wonders of natural
beneath
architecture
hardly
exceeded
by the cations of the

it
West.
Here, hidden
that, just
lie
the
shadows of the overhanging walls of rock,
hard to imagine
the
beyond
fields
that line of
Norway
homes.
pines
that
forms a
of
the
fringe
against
sky above,
fertile
and
quiet
A
is
just
idea
depth
of this points
continuous
ravine
can
best
a
be
secured by an ascent to one of the

of rock, the river
projecting
above, where, resting on
ledge
seen at one point six hundred feet below, a land

it
distance which changes

river
with the varying surface of the
above.
At
fill,
certain points the
seems to have
levels of
life
worn out
alluvial
a wider channel than

;
can
now
and here are long, narrow
rich,
soil
and,
if
it
be
the
harvest- season,
we can catch glimpses

in
of
in
these
deep-down
wheat
;
valleys,
pigmy men and horses gathering
miniature harvest of maize or
while, at noonday, the rich golden yellow of the ripened grain contrasts strangely
with the deep, emerald green
of the
sloping sides
or
the
dull
gray of the
slaty
walls
beyond.
THE
from that of
the
hills,
is
VALLJ-:y
OF THE GENESEE.
Portage
is
361
Although the point where the

in a direet line
its
river enters the ravine at
hut twelve miles

its
exit at
greater.
Mount
Morris, the distance, followin";

this distance,
all
windino-
course
among
much
Having traversed
howe\er, we are
that
brought suddenly into the presence of a scene the direct antithesis of

before.
has
frone
Emerging through what
is
literally
rocky gate-way, the
whole mood of the
Elms on
the
Genesee
Flats.
river
seems
to have
changed
with
that
of
its
surroundings.
In
order
to
ol
make
this
change as conspicuous
hills.
as possible,
this,
we ascend
to one of the
two summits
the terminal
it,
Standing upon
to
and shaded
by the grand oaks which crown

in
we have
but
is
turn
the
eye
southward to take
for
at
a glance the whole valley below, which
grand park, reaching
away
to the south.
The
sloping highlands are

glisten
in
dotted
here sun-
and there with
rural villages,
whose white church-spires
the
rich,
warm
362
lip-ht.
Below and around

alluxial
arc
the
meadas
ows and
places
known
the
Genesee Mats.
The
level
present
view
embraces
by
broad,
helds,
marked
out
wcll-kejit
lences, enclosing
areas often one hundred
acres
in
extent.
Should
it
be
the
har-
vest-season,
we may
fields
distinguish almost at
our
feet
broad
crossed
their
entire
length
by endless rows of richly-tasselled
broom-corn.
celebrated
To
the right arc the justly-
nurseries,
fruit
with
tlieir
lines
;
of
miniature
tant
and shade
trees
the dis-
slopes
are
;
dotted with
while,
the
golden
wheat-harvests
to
\
reaching
rich
far
away
the
the
south, are
the
meadow-lands
midst
of
life
all
of
Genesee.
the
river, its
In
the
o
-
flows
waters giving
and
beauty to the
numerous groves of oaks

its
and elms which shadow

in
foct,
course.
It
is,
a broad
lawn, unbroken
save
by
an occasional hillock, with here and there

o-roves
of rare
old
of
oaks, beneath
whose
leisure.
shade
droves
cattle
graze
at
These groups of oaks and
elms
are
marked
of our
feature
of
the
flats,
and
many
most famous landscape-painters

others Casilear, Coleman, Durand,
uji
among
and Kensett have taken

iiere
"
their of
abode
these
as
in
order to secure sketches
trees,"
which
the
have
afterward
attractive
figured
features
among
most
of
their finished works.
This
valley,
like
all
others
in
watered
by
mountain-districts,
tunately,
is
rivers taking their rise
neighboring
Forof
the
subject
to
frequent
the
and occasionally disastrous

are
inundations.
however,
seasons;
the
for
moods
of
river
oftenest
in
accord
the
to
with
those
varying
this
reason
freshets
seldom
the
come upon
landholders
ungathered
tlieir
harvests.
The
possibility
of this event, however, leads
reserve
meadows
365
West
SiUe,
Upper
Falls
of the
Genesee.
for
the
level
floods,
the
main
avenues north and
south would
naturalh'
l)e
surve\'ed
alonsf
the
hill
land of the
flats.
As
it
is,
however, these hia^hwavs lead

across
alone;
the
adjacent
-sides,
with
an
occasional
road
leading
the
valky.
Among
the
important
66
most
frcqucntrd of those
anil
and
ris
avenues
tiie
is
that
-
Icadino-
from the
villatie
It is
of
Mount Morthis
southward,
known
as
Mount
the
Morris
Turnpike.
point
along
lovely
that
ot
our
southward
iournev
now
tends,
objective
being
the
village
Geneseo.
This village
the
richest
is
the shire
town of Livingston County, within the boundaries of which

It
of the- valley-lands are situated.

river, at
its
stands
half a
upon the eastern slopes of the

mile
that
distant.
valley,
the
is
nearest
valley
point,
itself,
running
it
The
of the
first
history
first
of
Geneseo
that
of
the
since
limits
was here
many
white
settlements were made.

its
We
of
enter
its
from the south, and the
suggestion of
presence
a
is
the
old
Wadsworth homestead, whose broad

all
porticos,
facing
westward,
command
this old
glorious view
the
rich
domain below.
The grounds
that belong to
is
mansion mark the southern
limit of the village proper, the

right,
entrance to which
bounded by the homestead-grounds upon the
and an
old,
prim-looking village park

of the
valley
upon the
point,
left.
Leaving the
turn
artist
to obtain his desired

for
sketch
from
the
this
we
will
our back
upon him
the
present, while
we ascend
"
avenue
marking the southern boundary of the town, and reverently enter the
Hill."
\'illage
on the
Here
lies,
in the
peace and
rest
that
come
after
noble
S.
service,
all
that remains
after
of one of
New
York's most
illustrious citizens.
General James
fiice
Wadsworth, who,
distinguished service in the
field, fell "
with his
to the foe
"
in
the battle of the Wil-
demess.
Along the western
slope of the
;
hill,
upon the summit of which

far
is
this village of the
dead, rests the village of the living
and one might go
to find
more
perfect rural
hamlet.
The
streets,
which run
at right angles, are
lined with
graceful
shade-trees;
and
the view from those running east and west embraces that of the rich valley in the fore-
ground, and,
hill-side
in
the distance, the undulating harvest-fields.
That dark opening into the

river
toward the
south
is
the
gate-way through which the
enters
the
valley
while, far
awav northward,
that
cone-shaped
eminence marks the suburbs of the
city of
Rochester, our next objective point, and the limit of our valley tour.
Transferring ourselves and baggage, including the

folio,
artist's easel
and the
tourist's portrail-car,
from the lumbering stage to the

wa\-,
less
rural
but
more expeditious
serves
as
we
are
soon under
northward bound.
upper valley
the
citv
is
The
a
railway that
means of
exit
from
the region of the

road.
It
branch
of the Erie,
the
known
as the
Genesee Valley
connects
of
Rochester with
valley villages
of
Avon, Geneseo,
Mount
Morris, and
now
Dansville, the last a flourishing
town seated upon one of the
tributaries of the Genesee,
and thus being entitled to

crosses
a place
among
this beautiful sister-
hood.
the
are
At Avon
this
road
the
;
northern
if
branch
of the Erie.
properties
At
this point are
justly-famous
in
sulphur
springs
and,
the
health-giving
of these
waters
a
front
any
degree
commensurate with
of
the
their
State.
mineral
strength,
Avon
deserves
rank
amonir the
health-resorts
Continuing our iournev
twentv
miles
367
Lower
Falls.
farther,
following
the
its
ine
east-
of the river
along
ern
roe the city of Rochester.
shores,
we
enter
Mon-
County,
and
ai)i)roach
This
the
city
stands
in
the
same
relation to
valley as
does
storage and distributing
reservoir to
the
streams from which the supIn

its
ply the city was

all
is
received.
;
early days, the
life
of
dependent upon the harvest of the valley
when
these were abundant, then
went
well.
Having already
referred to the wheat-product of the valley,

cit\',
we can
readily
understand the need and consequent prosperity of the

the
"
which has long been known as

State, there
P^lour City of the West."
Although now ranking
as the fifth city in the
are yet living

dwell.
many
persons whose childhood dates back of that of the city in which they
From
a brief historical sketch
on the
subject,
we
learn
that, in
expressing aston-
o 68
PICTl'RESQL'E AMERICA.
at
ishinL'iil
the career of
lie
Rochester,
De Witt
(Minton renuukcd, shortly
hcl'ore
his death,
that, wlien
j)assed the
Genesee on
a tour wiih i)tlRr
commissioners
for
exploring the
route
It
of the
(ill
Krie Canal, in
1810, there
was not
house where Rochester now stands.

as
it
was not
the \ear 1812 that the
"Hundred-acre Tract,"
was then
called,
was
pilannctl
out as the nucleus of a settlement under the

"
name
of I-iochester, after the senior
proprietor, Nathaniel Rochester.
In
the
ear
1814,"
writes
one of these pioneers,

St.
" I
cleared
First
three
or
four
acres
of ground
on
which
i,
the
Court-IIouse,
stand,
it
Luke's Church,
it
Presbyterian Church, and School-house No.
now
and
sowed
to
wheat,
and
by
had
the
fmc crop.
The
and
harvesting cost
me
nothing, as
was most
cjfcctually done
years,
sqiiin-els, coons,
other wild beasts of the forest.
Scarcely
three
howthis
ever,
had
elapsed
before
the
ground was mostly occupied with

it
buildings."
From
and
abundant kindred testimony,
is
evident
that
the
in
early
pioneers of this western

of the
the
region were
"
men
of energy and
foresight,
in
who saw
village
the
\allev
Genesee the
"
garden-plot of the West," and
the
then
of Rochester
future
Granary
of America."
Having already
referred to the second series of falls

it
and high
its
Ijanks,
we
will again
return to the guidance of the river as

Its course lies directly across or
enters the city limits at

cit)-,
southern boundaries.
through the centre of the
the main avenues, running
east
and west, being connected by several iron bridges, with the exception of that known
Main-Street Bridge, which
is
it
as the
It
is
of stone, and the
two wooden
railwav-bridges.
at
the
city
of
Rochester that the Erie Canal encounters the Genesee River,

that
which
crosses
upon the massive stone aqueduct,
has In
its
long
been regarded
as
one
of the most important works of American engineers.

rather
present course the river has

is
the
appearance
of
broad
canal, save that
the
current
rapid, and, at
times,
boisterous.
The
shores are lined by huge
stone mills and
factories, the
foundation-walls
of which act the part of dikes in
confining the waters to their legitimate channels.

the ri\er
in
is
At
and
a point near the Erie Railway depot

side
crossed
by
broad dam, from either

streets
of which
the
the
waters
to
are
led
two
the
mill-races,
which pass under the
conduct
centre
waters
city,
the
mills
along
route.
its
it
At
point
the
somewhat below the

or
of
are
the
and yet
feet in
directly within
limits,
arc
First
that,
Upper
such
a
Falls.
These
ract
in
ninety -six
centre
height,
and
is
thus
evident
with
cata-
the
of the
city, the
facilities
for
obtaining water-power could hardly be

shores, and, as
excelled.
The
mill-races conduct the
main supply along the two opposite

level of the
falls,
the mills arc mainly situated below the
the
full
force of the water can
be utilized.
The
illustrations
a
full
of the
Upper
Fall
have
as
been
so
designed
that the
two
combined present
view of the whole

water
front
viewed from the chasm below, the

races
are
darkened channels through which the

being shown to the right and
left.
from
the
returned
to
the
river
The
brink
of this
fall
marks the upper
limit
of
second
series
of high
banks
THE VALLEY OF THE GEAESEE.

similar
in general character
369
to
those
that
lie
between Portage and Mount Morris.

feet.
The
of
height
of these walls at certain points exceeds three hundred

Fall, a
At
the
feet
distance
is
about a mile from the Upper

at
second descent of about twenty-five
followed,
the
distance
feet
in
of a few rods only, by the Third or

height.
It
Lower
Falls,
which are nearly one

tiie
hundred
thus
appears that, within the limits of

falls
city, tlie
waters
of the Genesee
make
a descent, including the
and the rapids above them, of two

for
hundred and sixty
feet,
and the water-power, as estimated
the
Upper
Fall
alone,
its
equals forty thousand horse-power.
Among
level
the interesting features of
Rochester are
nurseries and seed-gardens, the largest in the world.
As
the river has
now
reached the
of
in
Lake Ontario,
lake-traffic
is
it
assumes the character

it
of a deep-set harbor, and the vessels engaged

the foot of the
can ascend
at the
five
miles to
river,
Lower
Falls.
The
port of entry, however,
mouth of the
and a
where stands the
village
of Charlotte.
Here
are
wharves
a light-house,
railroad-
depot^ which road leads direct to Rochester.
Light-house,
118
Charlotte.
THE
ST.
LAWRENXE AND THE SAGUENAY.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES
D.
SMILLIE.
Entrance to Thousand Islands.
is
three o'clock of a
as
fast
June morning on the

its
St.
Lawrence
the
little
city of
;
Kingston
is
asleep
as
founder, the old
Frenchman
Dc
Courcellcs
the
moon
is
THE
ebbing before the
ST.

a
371
across the
breaking day;
phantom-like
is
sloop
a
the
little
is
creeping slowly
smooth stream.
noisy
life,
At
the steamboat-wharf there
blaze of light
and a rush of
which breaks, but does not
penetrate,
surrounding
the
silence.
The Laketo
stay, for
Ontario steamer has brought a pack of eager tourists into

another vessel
is
town not
through
the
in
waiting, ready to bear
them down the
river,
rapids
and
JU
^m-
^:
Light-Houses among the Thousand Islands.
the channels of the the pipes

;
Thousand
fitfully
Islands, to Montreal.
The pent-up steam screams through

and
out
lamps gleam
among
"
barricades of freight
!
baggage on the wharf

its
men's voices mingle hoarsely.

whistle pipes
its
All aboard
"
The
bell rings
farewell
notes
the
shrill
warning into the
night,
and the Spartan
slips
her moorings, to the

this
pleasure of the sleepy travellers
who crowd
her decks and cabins.
By
time the east
Among
the
Thousand
Islands.
is
tinted purple, amber,
and
roseate.
Night
is
fast
retreating.
Ardent young couples, on

;
their
all
wedding-journey, are a notable element
among our
fellow-travellers
but there are
sorts of other
people from the States, with here and there a chubby,

are journeying
florid,
drawling
Englishman.
Most of us
on round-trip tickets from

as
if
New
York, and are
as intimate with
one another's aims and ends
we were
crossing the ocean together.
372
all
We
came up
tlic
Hudson
antl will
in
all
tlic
A'ihlnuil;
all
occupied the same Pullman car between

in
Albany and Niagara,

fashion
bids
us.
rush to ihe
same hotels
Montreal
and
Quebec,
as
Soon
after
leavinii'
Kingston,
we
bestir
ourselves,
and choose
eligible
is
seats in the forward part of the boat. as
We
chat without restraint, and expectation

descriptions
rife
we
near the famed

of the
Thousand
Islands.
The
we have
read and the stories
we have heard
panorama before us
flock vividly into our memories.
We
little
are
all
accoutred with guide-books, maps, and books of Indian legend.
One
sweet
neighbor
"
of ours, in regulation lavender, brings out a neatly-written copy of
Tom
Moore's
Row,
Between Wellesley Island and the Canadian
Shore.
Brothers, row%" which she holds in her pretty hand, ready to
recite
to
her
St.
husband the
Anne's may
St.
very
slip
moment
St.
Anne's comes into view.
Meanwhile she
is
fearful that
by unnoticed, notwithstanding the assurances made to her that the much-desired

is
Anne's
twelve hours'
cool,
sail
ahead of
surface
!
us.
How
how
lightly she
laughs as the
she
as the
boat's white
stem cleaves the

the
colors
in
gray
and
enthusiastically
repeats
Ruskin
as
the
morning sky grow warmer and deeper, and

!
sun
rises
directly
is
ahead of
us,
opening a golden pathway on the water

tells
and
how
prettily surprised she

six
when
her beloved
her that the
Thousand Islands number one thousand
hundred
THE
we
ST.
LAWRENCE AND THE

in
SAGUE NAY.
!
J/
J)
and ninety-two, as may be ascertained

childish
prattle,
the Treaty of
Ghent
Still
listening
tiie
to
her
are further occupied with the

in
banks of the
river,
and
numerous
dots of land that
lie
our coursethe Thousand Islands.

?
Are we disappointed
proceed
That
is
is
the question which most of us
propound before we
many
miles.
There
little
variety in their form and covering.
So much
alike
Entering the
Rapids
are they in these respects that our steamer
might be almost
at
stand-still
for
all
the
change we notice as she threads her way through the thirty-nine miles which they thickly
intersperse.
In
size
they
differ
much, however, some being only

of
few yards
in
extent,
and others several

of
fir
miles.
The verdure on most
them
is
limited to a sturdy growth
and
pine, witli occasionally
some scrubby undergrowth, which sprouts with northern
374
lied.
vioor from crevices iw the rockv

a picturesque feature,
The
as
lioht-liouses
whieh mark out our cliannel are

islands
and are nearly
frequent
as
the
themselves;
but
all
are
drearily alike
fragile
wooden
structures,
about
twenty
feet
high, uniformly whitewashed.
As
the Spartan speeds on, breaking the rippling surface into tumultuous waves,
we meet
a small boat, pulled
by a lonely man, who attends to the lamps from the shore, lighting
at sunrise.
line,
them
at sunset,
and putting them out end of
Some
is
anglers are also atioat, and anon
a large fish sparkles at the
their
and
safely
drawn
aboard.
The
islands
size
are
famous
in
for
sport, by-the-way.
Fish of the choicest varieties

lurk
tell
and the greatest

shores.
abound
have
their waters,
and
wild-fowl of every sort
on
us,
their
in
They
also
their
legends
and
romances, and the guide-books
eloquent language, of
labyrinths
the adventu-res of the "patriots"
who sought
refuge
among
their
during
the
Canadian insurrection.
As
the sun
mounts yet
higher, and the
mist
and haze
disperse,
we run between
VVellesley Island
and the Canadian shore, and obtain one of the most

is
charming views of the passage.
The verdure
more
plentiful
and the forms are more
Montreal Island.
graceful
shoals.
than
we have
abrupt
previously seen.
Tall
reeds
and water-grasses crop out of the

reflection
An
rock
throws
reddish-brown
flight.
on
the
current,
which
is
skimmed by
a flock of
birds in
dreamy
The banks
bays
;
of the
island
and the main-
land slope with easy gradations, inclining

arise
into several
and
afar a barrier
seems to
in
where the
river turns
and
is
k)St
in
the distance.
Thence we steam on
an
en-
thusiastic
mood toward
Prescott, satisfied with

half
the
after
beauties
we have
Kingston.
seen,
and
arrive
there
tions
at
breakfast-time, five hours and a
leaving
artist
Our preconceptells
have
they been realized
Scarcely.
a
But an
to
in
our company
us,
con-
solingly, that preconceptions
are
hinderance
enjoyment, and
ought to be avoided,
in getting
and that when he

rid
first
visited the
Vosemite,
last
summer, he spent several days
of idle dreams before he could appreciate the majesty and glory of the real scene.
Below Prescott we pass an

established themselves in
old windmill
on a low cape, where the
insurrectionists
1837
and, two miles farther,

Island.
we
catch a glimpse of a gray old

the
first
French
fortification
on
Chimney
Here, too,
we descend
rapids of the
THE
river
ST.

Deplau
Rapids
375
the
Gallope and the
with
full
steam
on.
No
it
excitement, no
breathlessness, attends us so far in our journey.
Engravings we have seen represent the

at a fearful rate.
water as
seething white, with a preposterous steamer reeling through
The
passengers
gather
in
mass on the forward deck, and brace

wait in vain.
their nerves for the
anticipated sensation.
They
The Gallopes and Deplaus

nearing
the
are passed almost
without
their
knowledge.
But we
are
famous
Long -
Sault
Rapids,
the
passage of which,
us through
we know, must
be thrilling.
An
Indian pilot comes on board to guide

is
at least, the
guide-book assures us that he
an Indian, and supplements
its
text with a corroborative portrait of a brave, in war-j)aint
and
feathers,
standing singleis
handed
at the
helm
and,
as
he
enters
the
wheel-house
on the upper deck, he
an
absorbing
trait
object
of interest.
A
is
stout, sailorly fellow
he appears, without an
aboriginal
about him, or a single feather, or a dab of paint.
There are some bustling preparain
tions
among
the crew for what
coming.
the
Four men stand by the double wheel

astern, as a precaution
seats,
the
house overhead, and two others

ing of a rudder-rope.
man
tiller
against
the
first
breakahead,
in
Passengers
move
nervously on their
and glance
and then
breast,
at
the captain standing
on the upper deck, with one hand calmly folded

signal-bell.
his
and the other grasping the

faces are
Timid
ladies
are
pale
and
affrighted
young
glowing with excitement.
The
paddles are yet churning the water into
snowv foam.
it.
We
sweep
past the scene of the battle of Chrysler's

shall
Farm without
noticing
In a few seconds
cease
more we
and
be in the rapids.
attention
it,
The uneasy motions
of the pasthe
sengers
captain's
altogether,
their
is
engrossed
bell
is
by the movements of
in
hand.
As
he
is
seen to raise
die
and the
heard
the engine-room, the

her,
vibrations of the
huge vessel
away
the water
leaps
tempestuously around
crisis,
and
she pauses an instant like a thing of

into
life,
bracing herself for a
before
she
plunges
the
it
boiling current and rides defiantly
down
is
it.
It
is
grand, thrilling
moment
but
is
onlv a moment.
The next
than
a
instant she
roll.
speeding on as quietly as ever, without

rapids
are
other
perceptible
motion
liv
slight
The
nine miles long, and are

usually
divided in the centre
a picturesque island, the
southern
course
being chosen
by the steamers.
The Spartan
ran the distance in half an hour, without steam, and then

St.
emerged
into the waters of
Lake
Francis, which
is
twenty-five
miles
long and
five
and a half miles wide.

This expanse
exhil)its
few interesting
tiie
features,
and we have ample opportunity to
cool from the excitement caused bv

are
descent of the rapids.
The banks
little
of the
lake
deserted,
are
and the
onlv
human
habitations seen are in the

start,
village of
life
Lancaster.
We
impressed, indeed, from

itself.
our
with the
few evidences of
or
in
the
river
country and on the river
There are not
many farm-houses
for
fine
residences
only a few small villages, of a humble character
the
most
St.
part,
and an occasional
is
town.
The
drear
monotony
in
of our
passage
through
Lake
Francis
followed
by
renewed excitement
the descent of the
Cedar Rapids,
at the foot
of which
we
enter
37(>
PIC TURESQ UE
St.
A ME RICA
more
so
is
Lake
Louis.
Uninteresting as
it
is
Lake
St. Francis, still
the sheet of water
now
it
before us, bordered as
is
b\-
Mat lands reminding us of the Southern bayous.
Hut
softly
is
here
we
get our
first
glimpse of the bold outlines of Montreal Island, rising

here, too, the river
in
the background;
its
and
Ottawa, ending
in the rapids of
St.
Anne's,
the sub-
pours
volume
into the greater St. Lawrence.

it
Contemplating the expanse
in
dued evening
light,
impresses
us
with
depressing sense of primitive desolation
vague, untrodden emptiness
and
infuses
melancholy into
our
feelings
without
exciting
River-front,
Montreal.
our sympathies.
But soon we are aroused to

bride
in
more agreeable and becoming frame of
mind by our
little
the
:
lavender dress,
who
is
briskly reciting
"
Row,
Brothers,
row," to her submissive
Corydon
"
'
Blow,
breezes,
blow
The stream
and the
runs
fast.
The
rapids
are
near,
daylight's
past.'"
queer-looking barge, with a square

is
sail
set,
lumbering across our course, and throwpurple and deep red

;
ing a black shadow on the water that

light-house
at
now
richly tinted with

;
the
the
extremitv of a shoal, vet unlighted

current
;
mass of drift-wood, sluggishly

the
i'ôlated
movintj with
puff of smoke, hoverina:
about
village
of
St.
%^^y
i^WiJifcî:, -;,.:,
ff3vp4TRCAi-:ffiQM'^Hj:ilN
fSLAka'::^:^^^^^
^<mM^' 'J^M
MONTREAL.
3-8
Clair
these
a
things
arc
all
we meet
little
in
mir voyage across the Inroad

lite
St.
Louis.
raft
Farther
up
tiie
river there has
been
\wo\\'
l)v
once
in
while
monstrous
coming
down from
life
the wilderness,
manned
four or five sturdy fellows
who
live
precarious
in
rude hut perched on the groaning timbers.
Nothing more than

old
life
this
no
Indians
skimming
the rapiils in birch canoes, no vestiges of the

(î
of this
region,
and
no
stirring evidences
the newer civilization.

iii^ward passage,
Occasionally
we have met
a steamer, as large
fields
as the Spartan,
making the
ami apparently moving through the

friend
on
the banks of the river.
An
incorrigiblv practical
;
of ours explains
"
vessel of
such burden cannot ascend the rapids

in
and
canals, with
a system of locks, have
been cut
are eight
the land wherever the rapids occur.
Between Kingston and Montreal there
canals, forty-one
miles
long,
and supplied with
twenty-seven locks, capable of admitting
the largest paddle-steamers."

in
The same
friend, incited
by our
inquiries, has
"
:
much
pleasure
adding several other
facts
about the river for our information
The
St.
Lawrence was
originally called the
Great River of Canada, and was also known

Iroquois.
Its
under the
to
it
names of
the
Cataraqui
and the
it
present
name was given

on the
by the explorer
St.
Cartier,
who
entered
with
some French
oiie
ships
festival-day of
Lawrence,
in
1535.
He
had been preceded by
Aubert, a mariner of Dieppe, in 1508; but Cartier

nearly opposite the site of Quebec.
went to
1
a higher point than
.\ubert, anchoring
In
59 1, another exploration having been
made
in the
mean
time, a fleet
was sent out from
France to hunt
fifteen
for walruses in the river;
and the veteran scribe Hakluyt announces that

killed
in
thousand of these animals were
single
season
by the crew of one
small bark."
Here the
practical
man
a
is
interrupted.
delay,
The steamer
stops at
the
Indian village of
Rapids.
Caughnawaga, and,
descent of these
after
short
proceeds
toward the
Lachine
In
the
we
are
wrought to
a feverish degree of excitement,

It
is
exceeding that profaint-
duced
in the descent of the
Long
Sault.
an intense sensation, terrible to the
hearted,
and exhilarating to the
brave.
Once
twicewe
when
the
seem
to be hurrying
yields
on
to a
rock,
and are within an ace of
total destruction,
Spartan
to
her helm,
and sweeps into another channel.
As we
reach calm water again,
we can
faintly distin-
guish in the growing night the prim form of the \'ictoria Bridge, and the spires, domes,
and towers of Montreal, the commercial

gentle
hills in
metropolis
of
British
North America.
The
the rear, well
wooded and studded with

skirts,
dwellings, are enveloped in a blue

city beats in vigorous
life.
haze, darkening
on the southern
in
where the heart of the

;
Lights are glimmering
the twilight on the river

;
black sailing-craft are gliding mys-
teriously about with limp canvas
the startling shriek of a locomotive echoes athwart, and
a swiftly-moving wreath of luminous-looking smoke, followed by a streak of lighted win-
dows, marks the progress of a flying night-train wheeling beyond the din and
toil
of this
dim
spot.
We
feel
the sentiment of a return
home
in
reaching a thriving, populous city

ot
again, after our day's
wandering through the seclusive garden-islands
the St. Lawrence;
THE
and
\vc
ST.
LAWREXCE AND THE SAGUEXAY.

on
;79
yawn
coniplaccntl)'
our restoration
bells,
to
the
electric
the attentive waiters, and
unromantic
comforts
of
the
modern
hotel.
A
in
night's rest
among
these,
bed of
us
faultless whiteness,
for
prepares
day's
the
following
this
tramp
through
an-
cient metropolis of the
Indians
(which long bore the name of
Hochelaga)
tropolis
and
the
modern meCanadians.
of
Montreal does not resemble an

English
too
the regular and

city
streets
it
are
does not
resemble
cities,
our
o-wn
it
American
is
than
which
more
substantially built.
tiality
is
Its substan-
particularly impressive
-the
tending
limestone
for
wharves
the
ex-
miles,
finely-
paved
streets
lined
with
mas-
sive edifices of the
most endurwith
ing
materials,
imprinted
their constructors' determination
that
they
in
is
shall
not
be
swept
away
There
many
generations.
in
an honest austerity
of the
the character
work
no
no
superfluous
ornamentation,
clap-traps of architecture.
site
is is
The
It
naturally picturesque.
on the southern
in
slope
of a
mountain
divides
the
chain
which
isl-
the
verdant, fertile
and
a
of
Montreal.
There
a
are
high
town and
;
low town,
Breakneck
tluStairs,
as at
Quebec
and on
Quebec.
u])-
38o
ivachinii"
iiiouiKl,
U'af\-
roads winding
tlirouiiii,
arc tlu' \illa
ivsidrnccs
i)f
tlic
fashionable.
Tlic prospect from tliese hoskv heiglits re|Kivs, with hlnral

trian
interest, tiie toil
ol
the pedesa
who
seeks them from the

the
fair
eitv.
Perched on some
him, the
vast
halcony, as a kino on
throne,
line of
he
may
survey, on
their
level
beneath
hummint;- streets; the
lon>;
tiie
wharves, with
clustering
argosies;
the
iron
tube
which
its
binds
opposite
sparsely-settled shore to the arterial city;

laid
Nun's
Island, with
tiie
llowery grounds, neatly

of
Laprairic,
its
out;
beautiful
Helen's
Island, thick witii
wood;
village
tinned
spire glistening like a spike of silver;
the golden thread of the St. Lawrence, stretching

;
beyond
St.
the
Lachine
Rapids into mazes of heavy, green foliage

;
the pretty villages of
Lambert, Longueuil, and Vercheres

hills
and
afar
off,
bathed
in
haze
and
mystery, the
purple
of W'rmont.
Perchance, while his eye roams .over the varied picture with
the roofs of the
in
keen
he
delight, there
booms o\er
the
town the great
bell
of
Notre-Dame, and
pretty
saunters
down
height
answer to
its
summons
through
at
hilly lanes of
cottages
on the outskirts into the resonant
St.
-James Street; past the old

;
post-office,
which
is
soon to be superseded by a finer structure
underneath the granite columns of
Molson's
Victoria
Bank Molson's
Bank, as celebrated as Childs's Bank

Place d'Armes.
Temple Bar; through

is
Square, and on until he reaches the
Here
the cathedral of
a front
Notre-Dame,
the
a massive structure cajiable of holding ten
thousand people, with
on
square
of one
hundred and
forty
feet,
and two towers soaring two hundred and

river
twenty
feet above.
Climbing one of these towers, the view of the

is
and
city obtained
from the mountain-side

cathedral, in the
repeated, with the surrounding streets included.

is
Opposite the
Place d'Arines,
row of Grecian
buildings, occupied
by
city
banks;
in their
on each side are similar buildings

composition.
In the centre
marble, granite, and limestone, appearing largely

a while in the refreshing
as
it
we may pause
shade of the park,
and hear the musical plashing of the handsome fountain

light.
glints in the bright sunoffers greater facilities for
Thence we wander
to the magnificent water-front,
which
commerce than
are several feet
that of anv other
American
city.
The quays
are of solid limestone,
and
below a spacious esplanade, which runs
parallel
with them.
The
cars of
the
Grand Trunk Railway bring produce from the West
to the very hatchways of the
shipping, and cargoes are transferred in the shortest possible

sible
time and
\'ictoria
listen
at
the
least pos-
expense.
his
:
Our
practical
friend
carries
us off to
the
Bridge,
and utters
praiseworthy
some of
fortitude
pent-uji
knowledge on
is
that
miles.
subject,
It
is
which we
to with
" Its
length
nearly
two
supported by twenty-four
the railway-track
is
jiiers
and two
twentymillion
abutments of
solid
masonry.
The tube through which

The
total
laid
is
two
three
feet high,
and sixteen
feet wide.
cost
of the structure was
six
hundred thousand
dollars."
Then we go
to see the Bonsecours Market, the nun-
neries,
Mount-Royal Cemetery, the imposing Custom-House,

;
the Nelson
Monument, and
the
river
the
water - works
and
in
the
evening we
continue
our journev
down
to
Quebec.
THE
ST.
383
Quebec
The
historic
city of
Cana-
da
of
the city of conquests,

military
glory,
!
of
It
beis
wildering contrasts
yet early
veil
morning when we
arrive there
of mist obscures the
more
distant ob-
From
the
Top
of
Montmorency
Falls, looking
toward Quebec.
jects.
view obtained
is
not
tlic
most impressive.
It
As we approach from Montreal, the would be better, wc are assured, were we

is
coming from down the
river.
But who
that loves the ancient, the gray, the quaint,

at
not
touched with emotion on finding himself
the
portals of the noble old fortress looking
down upon
sio-ht
the ample water-path
to
the
little
heart
of the
continent
.^
Who
social
is
proof
at
the
ao-ainst a little
sentiment and a
dreaming.?
Our minds
are fraught with
mem-
ories of the early explorers, of battles
and their heroes, of strange
conditions that
3^4
have existed and exist
directed.
est.
in
the
shadow of yon
no ejioch
ol
its
its
loominti- rock,
whither our steamer's

is
bow
is
We
can look into
history that
not
full
of color
and
inter-
Illustrious
names
are
woven
in
pages
Richelieu,
for
Cond(5, Beauharnais,
its
Montsee
morency, Laval, and Montcalm.
Two
in
natit)ns struggled
possession.
We
old
Jacques Cartier ascending the river

then
in
1534, and holding
conference with
the Indians
later,
occupation
of
the
site,
which
they
called
Stadacona.
Half
century
Champlain, the geographer, enters the scene
at the
head of a vigorous colony, and builds

provisions.
barracks for the soldiers, and magazines for the stores and
settled before an
He
is
not
fairly
English
to
lleet
speeds
up the
a
St.
Lawrence, captures Quebec, and

of
carries
city
is
him
off
prisoner
England.
Then
treaty
peace
is
signed,
and the
restored to- France, Chami>lain resuming his place as governor of the colony.
for
Thereafter,
hundred and
of
the
fifty
years,
France rules unmolested, and the
lily-flag
waves from the

add
heights
citadel
but a storm impends, and
soon England
shall
New
France
to her colonial empire.
Two
;
armies contend for the prize: Wolfe, on the land below, at

at
the head of the English
Montcalm, on the heights above,

is
the
head of the French.
With
the armies
thus arrayed, Wolfe
at a disadvantage,
which he determines to overis
come by
strategy.
A
is
nairow path twisting up the precipice
discovered, and, on a
defile.
starlight night, the valiant
young general
surprised
leads his
men through
;
the
The enemy's
guard
at
the
summit
and driven
back
the English occupy the table-land
which they desired, and where they can meet their antagonists on equal terms.
following day the battle
incessant
his
fire
;
On
the
is
fought
Montcalm advances, and covers

wrist,
the English with an
Wolfe
is
wounded
in the
and hastens from rank to rank exhorting
men
to
be
steady and to reserve their shots.

a
At
last
the French are within forty

staggers, endeavors
yards
of them, and
deadly
volley
belches
forth.
The enemy
Wolfe
he
is
to
press on,
and
falls
under the furious attack that opposes.

his
wounded
twice more,
the last time mortally, but
army
is
victorious
is
and, as
sinks from his horse, the
French are retreating, and Montcalm,

Wlio, approaching Quebec
lost in reverie
too,
mortallv wounded.
in
for the first
time
his
life,
is
not
for
moment
thus
over
its
past, and,
on entering the
buildings
afford
}
city,
is
not
charmed with the sharp

has
described
contrasts
the
people
and
their
Some one
placed
Quebec
as
in
resembling an ancient
Norman
fortress
of two
centuries
ago, that had been encased
amber and transported by magic

mond.
But, while there
are
to Canada, and
wiiich
on the summit of Cape Diabuilt,
streets
might have been brought, ready

of the
city are
from
quaint old towns in provincial France, the outskirts

alone can create.
farther,
such
as
;
Americans
a
At one
point
in
we may
is
easily fancy ourselves in
Boulogne
still,
few steps
in
and a crooked lane
London
recalled
to
us
farther
and we are
find
narrow
of the
variety
Roman
street
and, across the way, in
a
it
handsome thoroughfare, we
is
some
characteristics
is
of
New
York.
So, too,
with
the
inhabitants,
though the
not as extensive.
Half the people have manners and customs of the French,
Iliiililir
^=^=^=-^
386
the other
hut
it
half arc
equally English.
\'()u
hear Freneh
spoken
as
frequently as English,
at a loss
is
Freneh of such a fashion as
Parisians
sometimes confess themselves
to understand.
The Montreal
city
steamer, after passing Wolfe's
Cove and Cape Diamond, keeping

few yards above
oiu"
the
well out of view, lands us at an old wharf a
the
Chamiihun Marri\-er,
ket,
where we get our
fust
glimpse
at
Quebec.
At
back
is
the placid
with
air
;
crowd of row-boats and sloops and schooners

the right
is
drifting easily in the stilly
morning
to
several the Market-Hall, a pleasing building of important size, with
rows of
broad
stairs
running from
its
portals to
the
water's edge
behind
it
are the dormer-win-
dowed, slated and tinned roofs of the lower town; behind

gray ramparts,
the
foliage
these, again,
on the heights, the
Durham
Terrace, resting on the buttress arches of the old castle of St. Louis,
the
obelisk
of the
Government Garden, and

is
erected
to
Wolfe and Montthis
calm.
Looking
to the left
the citadel,
fair
enough, and smiling, not frowning, on

calmly around
"
summer's morning, with
the
Union Jack
interest
"
folded
shall
the prominent
flag-staff.
Which
and
of
all
these
"
objects of
we
do
"
first ?
We
debate the question,
start
out
undecided.
Once upon
the
streets a
time,
when Quebec was
a garrisoned town, the
English
red-coats
gave
military aspect; and, as
we roam
about, forgetting
that they have
been
recalled,
we
are
surprised
to
find
so
few
soldiers.
The
the
military
fortifi-
works
cations
are
;
neglected, and have not kept
pace with time.
We
a
ramble
among
here
and there
is
rusty, displaced
is
cannon;
crumbling, moss-covered wall.
The
citadel
it.
itself,
so proudly stationed,
lonely, quiet, drowsy, with
no martial splendor
it,
about
One
can fancy that the
citizens themselves
might forget
but for the noon

is
and curfew gun that thunders out the time twice a day.
volunteers;
uniform.
The
garrison
composed of
in
no more do we see the magnificently-trained

are also
surprised, l)ut not
Highlanders,
sleepy
their
fancy
W'e
;
displeased, at
the
atmosphere that per-
vades
all
for
we have been
told that the
French
Canadians are especially fond of fetes

anchorites, for
all
and holidays, shows and processions.

gayety
a
;
They might be
arisen to
a
after
wê see of
their
is
possibly
air
they
quiet
have
that
not yet
belongs
the
carouse
apart
is
of last night.
There
general
of
remote
spot
from
the
interests
and
cares of
the outside
world a dreamy languor

cities.
that a traveller
apt to declare absent in

a stranger here as in
far,
the smallest of the United States
He
himself
is
as
much
London, and those around him perceive

even
reg'lar
his strangeness.
We
us
a
had not w\alked

as
aliens.
"
before
pert
little
shoeblack's
!
inexperienced eyes
detected
He'
yar, sir
Noo-'ork
s-s-shine
"
Down
in
the
lower town
great fleet of vessels

;
are
at
moorings, and the wharves are

astonishingly
little
crowded with men and

because
it
vehicles
but the
traffic
makes
noise
perhaps
in
is
done with old-country method, and withall
out the impetuosity that

In
New -York
the
old
people throw into

tourist
their
visits,
work.
Breakneck
Stairs,
which every
religiously
we have one
of those
alleys that are often seen
towns of England and France a passage, scarcely
THE
ST.
387
Under Trinity Rock, Saguenay.
fifteen
feet wide,
successive
flights
between two rows of leaning houses, the road-bed consisting of several of stairs. Boot and shoe makers abound here, and their old-fashioned
a
signs sometimes
golden
boot adorn
;
their
still
more old-fashioned
are
stores.
The
occu-
pants are idly gossiping at their doors

der are two priests;
here
plainly
enough they
are
all
not ovenvorked.
Yon-
some
tourists.
These
the
sights
we
see at Breakneck
388
Stairs.
In
the
evcnino-,
city.
;
Durham
is
Terrace offers a
finest
telling
in
it,
contrast
tlie
to the
more sombre
are the
river
is
quarters of the
It
one of the
jiromenades surrounds
world; view
adjoinin;,'tiie
its
Government Gardens
enchanting.
roofs,
from the
the
a
railini;
that
the
down
Seen
from
elevation
of
It
tiie
is
terrace, the
lower town, with
tinned
seems to he under
veil
of gold.
here,
on
this lofty esplanade, that
Quebec
airs itself;
and, at twilight, throngs
of peo[)le
lounge on
benches near the mouths of
beetling
cannon, and
roam among the fountains and shrubbery of the Place d'Armes.

and
liveliness
Such
dressiness, fashion,
appear, that
we
are
city,
almost induced to withdraw
our previous statement about the quiet character of the

is
and to believe that
it
really
;
very gav and \erv wicked.
But, as the darkness

a
falls,
the
crowd begins
to
disperse
all
and,
when
the nine-o'clock
gun sends
good-night to the opposite shore, nearly
the
promenaders have gone home to bed, with Puritan punctuality.
On
calash
sitting
is
the
next
day
taking
we go
us
to
Montmorency.
and
It
is
We
round
like a
hire a calash,
and pay the driver

sixteen
miles.
three dollars for
there
back, a
distance
of
The
used
in
summer
only.
something
the point.
spoon on wheels, the passenger

across
in the
bowl and the driver
at
We
jolt
the St. Charles
River
by the
pretty
Dorchester
country,
Bridge, and then enter a
macadamized road leading through a very

Farther
away,
filled
with
well-to-do
residences.
we
pass the
Cana-
dian village of Beauport, and get an insight of old colonial
life.
The houses
are such as
we
referred
to in
coming from Montreal
to
Quebec
all
alike in size, form,
and
feature.
Thence we follow an English

falls,
lane through sweet-scented

fee,
meadows
until
we
arrive at the
a
its
and,
after
paying a small
we
are
admitted
to
some grounds where, from

it
perch at the very edge of the rock,
we can look upon
the fleecy cataract as
pours
volume
into the river.
It
is
the grandest sight
we have
yet seen in the Canadian tour.

feet
Hereabout the banks are precipitous

luxuriant verdure
sheet, twenty-five
;
two
hundred and
in
fifty
high
and
covered with
the
falls
are
deep-set
small
bay
or
chasm, and
descend
in a
yards
wide, broken
midway by an immense rock hidden beneath the

are
seething foam.
The surrounding forms

us,
picturesque in the extreme.

falls
In winter, the
solid ice,
guide-book
tells
the
foam
rising
from the
freezes into
two cones of
which sometimes attain a height of one hundred

in
feet,
and the people come from Quebec
large
numbers with
their
"toboggins"
a sort
of sleigh or sled, as those familiar with
Canadian sports
the
will not
need to be informed
with
which they
toil
to the
summit of
children,
cone,
and thence descend with astonishing
velocitv.
falls
Men, women, and
share in the exciting exercise.
Half a mile above the

river has
in
we
visit
the Natural Steps,
where the limestone-rock bordering on the

successive flights of steps,
all
been hewn by Nature into several
remarkably regular
it
form
and, in the evening,
we
are
returning
to
Quebec, which, as
city
is
seen from the
Beauport road, strikes one as the
most beautiful
on the continent.
In the morning
we
are
on board the Saguenay
boat,
among
as varied a
crowd
as
>
<
z
bJ
D
<
'Si
> h Z
z u
1-
a
1
-i
a
z.
<
if
o z
MMmmt
390
mi^ht he formed
l.v
tin-
comminolino of
tlu- ,;,l,in
and
steera,a:e
passengers of an America-
bound ocean-steamer.
and have shared
"'ohdav
where,
in
all
Yonder
are the i)eoi)le wlio liave

;
et)me
from
New York
dresses;
witli
us,
our joys and sorrows

is
here are
some
recent colonists
bound on a
and every-
"outm';"
there
,yrou])
of
half-breeds, in
richly-colored
the cabins and on deck, are |K-ople from
Montreal and Ouebec, who are ^rdwr

is
to "Salt-water."
At
in
fust
in
we imagine
the
that
"Salt-water"
but
the
a
name
is
of a
landing, and
we look
for
it
vain
time-tables;
presently
light
thrown
upon our
for their
ignorance.
sea-bathing,
Salt-water
means Murray
cannot
have
Ba\- and Cacouna,

at
where the Canadians go

water
but, as
which
they
Ouebec,
as
the
;
there
is
fresh.
We
are
delayed for half an hour waiting for the Montreal boat

transfers a- lew extra passengers to us,
soon as she
arrives,
and
we
start
out into the stream.

are
For nearly an hour

soon
abreast
we
retrace by water the trip

Falls,
we made
to
yesterday by land, and

still
of the
before.
Montmorency
Afar
oft,
which are seen

of the
better
advantage
roll
than
in
on
a
the
day
the
stately range
Laurentian Hills
upward
delicate haze;
in
and,
per-
through the trees on the summit of the bank, the river Montmorency shimmers
fect
calm, with something like
the
is
placid
resignation
of a
brave
soul
conscious of an
approaching death.
The stream
divided
here
by the island of Orleans, a low-lying
reach of farm-land, with groves of pine and oak
embowering romantic
little
farm-houses
picture
and cottages, such
as
lovers
dream of
But, as
we journey
on, this
exquisite
passes out of view, and the river widens, and the banks are nothing blue lines,
more than
indistinct
marking the boundary of the lonely

a
waters.
single
;
Few
so
vessels of
any kind meet

that
us occasionally
wind
line
sprit
flat-bottomed
it
;
scow, with
sail,
brown and ragged
the
will
not touch
or a sister-boat to ours
and once we
meet one of the Allen-
steamers
coming
in
from
the
ocean, passengers
swarming on her decks from bowuntil
to wheel-house.
We
yawn, and read novels, and gossip,

is
the afternoon
is
far
advanced, and Murray Bay
reached.
About
the
little
landing-place
is
some of the evidences

a
of fiishionable civilization are noticeable, and, in the background,

the period.
verandaed hotel of
birch-bark huts of
But the land around

tribe.
is
wild
and, not far away, are the

is
an Indian
off,
The sentiment
help
of the scene
depressing, and, as our steamer
paddles
idly
we cannot
thinking with
Mr. Howells that the sojourners

boat
is
who lounge
about the landing-place are ready to cry because the

in
going away to leave them

waiting
for the steamer,
their
loneliness.
At Cacouna, more
is
fashionable
;
people
their
are
the arrival of which
the event
of the day
but
in
gayety and
chatter
as
"
also
seem
unnatural, and they excite
our sympathies
much
the
same manner
do the young
Return of the
man and woman

Mayflower."
standing alone on the Plymouth beach in Broughton's

set
The sun has
before our
steamer crosses the

are
St.
Lawrence toward the
mouth
of the Saguenay, and
black
is
clouds
lowering
in
the
sky as we glide to the by some Canadians

the
"
;
landing at Tadoussac.
the
hotel
is
This also
selected as a watering-place
is
but
overcast by older log-cabins, and Tadoussac
still
remote, unfriended,
THE
melancholy, slow
ago.
is
ST.

of the
his
391
station"
Hudson Bay Company
that
it
was
hundred years
The
captain grants
passengers two
visit
or three hours ashore, and the opportunity
taken by most of us to
the
oldest
church
It
in
is
America north of
a
Florida,
which
allu-
Tadoussac contains among

vial
its
other curiosities.
frame building, on a high,

small
in
bank, and
the
interior, as
we
see
it
lighted
altar
;
by one
is
taper, appears
scarcely
in
more than
rear,
thirtv feet square.
handsome
placed
the
an octagon alcove
are
first
the
with altar-pieces
svmbolizing the crucifixion

scene,
in
and
walls
adorned with two

priest
pictures,
one
scriptural
the
other
stroll
portrait
of
the
who
visited
Canada.
We
are
interrupted
our
by
the
steamer's
bell
summoning
us back.
St.
Louis Island,
from West Bank of Saguenay.
The storm-clouds
for
in
are drifting thickly across the night-sky
the
moon
sea has
battles
with
them
an opening.
Gusts of wind sweep through the

in
firs.
The
grown tumultuous
our absence, and,
the increasing darkness,
we can
discern the billows breaking into

jetty,
all
a curiing fringe of white.
The steamer
beats
;
starts out
from the
her with
and has not proceeded

its
many
lost
yards before the
tempest
down upon
force.
The moon
is
behind the banks of cloud

rain,
heavy drops patter on the deck.

strife,
In a storm of wind
and
land.
the elements in fiercest
we
enter the dark, lone river, as into a mysterious
It
is
not
sui-prising
that
the
Saguenay, with
its
massive,- desolate
scenery, should
392
PIC TURESO UE
A ME RICA.
Point Cr^pe, near the
Mouth
of the Saguenay.
have
terror.
inspired
early
it
mariners
with
river
To them
was
with marvellous surroundings, with
^
I
an unnavigable current, immeasurable

depths, terrible
hurricanes, in-
accessible
and dangerous rocks, dewere

walrus
is
structive
eddies
and
whirlpools
but,
in
later
in
days,
treasures
discovered
in
its
bounds,
and
it
was frequented
are
by
vessels
search
;
of
the
the
and
the
whale.
The
old
superstitions
no
longer
entertained
but
river
undisturbed
the
It
walrus
the
and
the
whale
all
have
that
will
been
usually
driven
stir
it.
away,
and
luml)er-rafts,
coming down from

Pitchitanichetz, the
discover.
is
wilderness, are
The
to
Indians
learn,
called
it
meaning of which, you
not
be
surprised
St.
we could not
lies
formed by the junction of two outlets of

one hundred and
miles of surface.
eral
John's Lake, which
in
the
wilderness,
thirty miles
northwest
of Tadoussac, and
covers
five
hundred square
cliffs
iMom some
distance below the lake the river passes over
in
sev-
magnificent cascades, rushing between

feet
rocky banks from
two hundred
it
to
one thou-
sand
wide.
high
and, for a distance of sixty miles from the mouth,
is
about one mile
In some parts, soundings cannot be found with three hundred and thirty fathoms;
all
and, at
points, the
water
is
exceedingly deep, presenting an inky-black
appearance.
Fish
may be caught
in great
abundance, including salmon, trout, sturgeon, and pickerel.
THE
on
ST.
LAWRENCE AND THE

arrive at a little village
less
SAGUENAY.
hills,
393
and,
During the night of storm, the steamer has threaded her way through the
a glorious
morning,
we
is
in
Ila-ha Bay, the
nominal head of
navigation.
The
scenery
massive
and sullen
is
here
than
at
any other point, and
the character of the crowd at the landing
diversified in the extreme.

tourists,
There are lumEnglish tourcanoes,

filled
is
bermen, Scotch Highlanders, habitants, American

ists,
Canadian
tourists,
little
and
aboriginals.
Some
of the habitants have brought

offer for sale
;
with them
with
wild-strawberries,
bustle.
which they
then
and, during our detention here, there

river.
considerable
We
resume our journey down the dark

is
Ha-ha Bay,
with
its
shrubbery and beaches,
soon out of sight
we
are sailing
between two tower-
ing walls of rock, so dreary, so desolate, that those of us

dejected and nervous.
villages
who
are impressionable
;
become
The
river
has
no windings
it
few projecting bluffs
no farms or
on
its
banks.
Nature has formed

offspring.
is
in
her sternest mood, lavishing scarcely one

a
grace
on her monstrous
Wherever
found
promontory juts out one

;
side
of the
river, a
corresponding indentation
basis
upon the opposite shore
and
this has
been
made
the
of a theor)^
that
the
chasm through which the black waters flow was

solid
formed by an earthquake's separation of a

almost any thing about
crying over
themselves.
it.
mountain.
grief,
;
We
are willing to
little
believe
actually
its
origin
it
fills
us
with
and our
bride
is
The forms
are rude,
awkward, gigantic
;
but, like giants, unable to carry

in fact
;
There are no grassy meadows

life
little
greenery of any kind,

It
is
only some
dwarfed red-pines living a poor

primitive desolation.
among
the rocks.
lies
a river of
it
gloom, marked with

as
Occasionally an island
in
our path, but
is
rugged and bar-
ren as the shore, formed out of primitive granite, offering
no
relief to
the terrible
monot-
ony that impresses

exposes
place
in
its
us.
And, once
in a while, a
ra\'ine
breaks the precipitous walls, and

mountain-torrent.
that
darkling
a
hollow the
white
foam of
at
Near such
failed
we
find
saw-mill,
and some attempt

;
settlement
has
dismally.
We
think of passages in Dante
of
the woes
" The dismal shore that
all
Hems
in of all the universe."
The water
and then
is
skimmed by no
birds,
nor
is
there a sound of busy animal
life.
Only now
a black seal tosses its
head above the surface, or dives below
at
our approach,
from some projection where he has been quietly sunning himself

lar
Masses of perpendicufeet,
rock
rise
above
the
surface
to
an unbroken height of over one thousand

that the sensitive
little
and
over
extend
still
farther below.
What wonder
Of
woman
is
in
tears
the awful
doom
Nature
exhibits.?
course, there are
some of our
fellow-tourists
it
who
are not impressed with any thing except the immensity of the
spaces, but
is
reserved
for her finer senses to hear Nature's voice in the savage tones of the rocks,
at
its
and to weep
sternness.
Presently
we
near
Trinity
121
Rock and Cape
Eternity, and one of the crew brings a
394
As
these
bucket of pebbles on to the forward deck.

the grandest sights of the voyage, there
is
two capes
arc
accounted
among
a flutter of anticipation anions the passengers,
and the .decks are crowdi'd again.
slight curve brings us into Trinity
Bay, a semi-
circular csluarv, flanked at the entrance

larly,
by two precipices,
eacli
is
rising,
almost perpendicubecause
is
eighteen hundred feet above the

its
river.
The
steepest
Trinity, so called
of the three distinct peaks on

Eternity.
northern summit, and that on the other side

of fractured
granite, whicli
Cape
in
Trinity
presents
face
appears almost white
contrast to the sombre
pine-clad
front of
Eternity.
And
now, as the boat seems to be

if
within
few yards of them, the passengers are

introduced.
invited
to see
they can
strike
fall
them
short
with
the pebbles before

in
Several efforts are made,

rest of the
but the
stones
of their mark,
the water.
For the
day we are toiling through like wilderbid adieu to Trinity and

Island,
nesses of bowlders, precipices, and mountains.
We
Eternity at
Point
Xoir, thread the desolate mazes of St. Louis
and soon are passing Point
Crepe, where the rocks, the everlasting rocks, look in the distance like the channel of a
dried-up
across
cataract.
Toward
night the
we
are
is
in
the
St.
Lawrence
again,
and as we speed
the wreck
the
brighter waters
moon
rising
over
Murray Bay, and

through
of a
canoe
passed.
reposing
on
the
low beach reminds us of the desert
which we have
--S'^^t
Mount
MuiT.-iy
B.iy,
St.
Lawrence.
THE EASTERN SHORE, FROM BOSTON TO PORTLAND.

J.
DOUGLAS WOODWARD.
Pulpit
Rock,
Xahant
'
I
-*-
"HE
ton
coast of
New
England between Bosis
and
Portland
for
the
most part
spots
it
irregular
and rocky, and
in
many
pictu-
resque.
Nature seems
to have supplied
with
every variety of sea-coast aspect and beauty, from

the jagged
mass of frowning and rough -worn
rock overhanging the waters to the long, smooth

reach of broad, curving beaches, and the duller landscape of green morass extending un-
broken to the water's
edg-e.
There
is
no coast on the Atlantic seaboard which presents

;
wider choice for the lover of marine pleasures

seek in proximity to the ocean their
for the rich
city-man and his family
who
summer
recreation from the cares and excitements of
the year; for the artist searching to reproduce on canvas the visible romance of Nature;
596
for the
gay camping-out
is
parties of students, of youths,
and maidens; and
for those
whose
health
supposed
to
derive
benefit from
tiie
fresh ocean-breezes, the bathings,
and the
have no
pastimes .offered by the salt-water expanse.
Thus, Bostonians
spots for the
and
Portlanders
holidays.
need to go
far
from home to find

place
tlclightfLd
summer
Within conhis
venient distance of either
are
spots where paterfamilias
may
deposit
family
Swallows'
Cave,
Nahant.
for
the
summer
in
a long-porched
hotel, or build for
them
a cosey, picturesque
cottage,
quite within daily access from his business

night,
haunts, whither he
may go and
repose
over-
and each morning return invigorated to the labors of

picturesqueness of the
office or countina--room.
The
Eastern shore betrays
itself as
soon as you have steamed
away from the Boston docks.
Eccentric and irregular peninsulas of land, abruptly widen-
THE EASTERN SHORE.

ing and narrowing,
397
a wide, hilly space,
now
mere thread between water and water, now
are encountered at once.
East Boston stands ui)on one of these, and jjresents a crowded,

its
rather
smoky
aspect, with
many chimneys,
its
well-filled
docks, and
its
elevation
is
at
the extremity, crowned with the quarter of private

to
residences.
after
The steamboat
East
forced
make many
curve
and winding, and, shortly
leaving
Boston,
passes
through a straitened channel between the sharp, narrow Point

a peninsula,
like, a
Shirley, a
mere needle of
and the
irregularly-shaped
its
Deer
Island, with its spacious

for the
Almshouse, shaped
city.
Latin cross, and
ample accommodation
paupers of the neighboring
As you
dimension
sand and
proceed
through the harbor, the eye catches sight of many islands of various
and contour
rock
;
some
green
with
lawns,
others
a
Ijleak
and
arid
with
herbless
here
surmounted by a
fort,
there
in
hosjjital
or house of correction,
at
sometimes an hotel whither excursions are made
the
summer
popular
prices.
The
The Old
Fort,
M.u
blcl.c.Rl.
southern coast looms irregular and sometimes

of similar
eccentricities
imposing behind, while a glimpse

in
is
had
are
and rough beauties of Nature
the direction whither
you
proceeding.
After passing around Point Shirley, the broad stretch of Chelsea

view, extending from the lower part of the peninsula to
resort of the
less
Beach comes into

This
are
is
Lynn
and
Bar.
the favorite
resi-
well-to-do
classes of
Boston, while
here
for
there
sea-side
dences which betray the taste of a wealthier social

are
class
this
neighborhood.
tlic
There
convenient
and
cosey
hostelries,
furnishing
is
refreshment
refreshing
to to
merry-makers,
and
ample provision
and dusty
city.
for the sea-bathing,
which
so
the
denizen of the busy
Beyond
Pine's
Point, which
its
is
the
strip
of land
at
the
northern
end of Chelsea
Beach, the sea makes one of
abrupt invasions into the line of coast, and has scooped
398
out
there
a
miniature
har-
bor, with
uneven coast borcalled
derings,
Lynn
inlet
Bar.
This
thrifty
is
the
to
the
"
leather-city,"
which
stands
just
by,
intent
on
with
supplying
shoes.
mankind
is
Lynn Bar
its
bound-
ed
on
eastern
side
by
the long and slightly curved
western side of the peninsula
of
Nahant.
From
this
point of view, you form no

concej)tion of the noble pict-
uresque
tectural
this
beauties
and
archi-
decorations
which
bold
and
strangelyaffords.
shaped
It
is
promontory
only
when you have

to
landed, and advanced
an
elevated
position,
if
that
one
of the most,
striking
not the most
landscape
on
the
itself
Eastern shore presents

to the sight.
Nahant
miles
ton,
less
is
about
eight
northeast
is
from
Bos-
and
easily reached, in
than an hour, from the
city
by
boat.
Of
all
the
sea-side resorts of the vicinity,

it
is
justly
the
most
CohasScitushore,
it,
sought
set,
for
neither
Nantasket,
nor
ate,
on the southern
can
compare
with
as
combining each several variety of
marine scenery and

advantages.
pleasure
The
THE EASTERN SHORE.

peninsula,
as
it
399
first
stretches
for
out
from
the
main
land,
is
at
narrow neck, crossed

is
by a few
bor of
steps,
;
some
distance
a
almost
straight.
On
one
in
side
the
pretty
for
har-
Lynn
on the other
curving, in
a
noble, wide
semicircle,
beach, sweeping
direct
line
some
lies
distance, then
short
round the rocky

This
cliffs
beyond which
begins
the
scarcely
less
lovely
and
famous
Swampscott.
a
narrow
neck
anon to
finally
thicken
irregularly, with
here and
there
sudden eruption of rugged rock, and

This
promontor}-its
is
broadens
shoe.
into
rocky,
uneven
the
eminence.
shore
is
shaped
like
horse-
On
the
two
sides
rocky, with
;
Black Rocks, West
Cliff,
Castle
Rock, Saunders's Ledge, Natural

horseshoe
are
Bridge, and so on
beaches,
while in the
lying
convex
side
of the
several
exquisite
diminutive
below the jagged eminences.
jdiliSS
Norman's Woe, Gloucester.
writer, describing
the
rocky beauty of Nahant, says: "The rocks are torn into such
all
varieties
of form, and the beaches are so hard and smooth, that
the beauty of wave-
All motion and the whole gamut of ocean-eloquence are here offered to eye and ear. savagethe loveliness and majesty of the ocean are displayed around the jagged and
browed
cliffs
of Nahant."
localities,
Few
which
marine
moreover,
have
been so elegantly
art.
adorned
by
the
wealth
calls forth
the best efforts
of the
architectural
Here
are noble sea-side resivillas,
dencesof
ivies
granite, brick,
and
wood Swiss
ocean.
cottages and French
some shrouded
in
and
parasites, neariy all having, in spacious
bay-windows and broad, sheltered

the
naturally bleak
piazzas,
delightful outlooks
upon the
Nor
has
and craggy peninsula
Gl-OUCESTER AND ROCKPORT.
THE EASTERN SHORE.

refused
to
401
flower- parterres,
nourish
l^-autiful
lawns
and gardens, amply sprinkled with
betraying the artistic care which riches are able to procure.
The
which
artist
has
reproduced
two of the most
striking of the
many
natural
wonders
the
eternal
lashing of the waves has wrought
out of the
ol)stinate
rock-masses
about Nahant.
Fulpit
Rock
lies
just
by
tlic
lower eastern shore of the horseshoe, beIt

is
tween the Natural Bridge and Sappho's

thirty feet
Rock.
a huge,
jagged mass, rising some

heavv
l)elow, but pro-
above the water, with
roughly -square
sides,
broad
and
jecting abruptly into an angle of forty-five degrees at the top.
At
little
distance, the
upper part appears
like a pulpit,
upon which some Titan
j)rcacher's
Bible
and
iiold
]iraver-
book have been

to venture
laid
ready for service
hence
sides,
the
is
name
and
here,
if
one
is
enough
up the
slippery,
moss-grown
its
a famous
e\ry,
whence
to
is
contemplate
farther on, at
the sea, sitting in the midst of the lower end of the

eastern
wash and
roar.
The Swallows' Cave
curve of the
horseshoe, between the steamboat-wharf and
Pea
Island.
in
It
is
a long,
gloomy
cavern, overhung by a
Tiie cave
is
dome
of irregular strata, heaved
together
derives
strange, shelving
its
layers.
eight feet high and seventy long, and

built
its
name from
in
its
having long been occupied by colonies of swallows, which

crevices,
their nests
sombre
and flew
in
and out
has
;
in
fluttering
multitudes.
But
the invasion of their retreat by curiosity-seekers
expelled
them thence.
is
The ca\c
may
be entered
for
some
distance
by a row-boat
and here
a favorite cool haunt in
the hot
summer
days,
when
the beaches are insufferable.
Nahant presents other wonders,

yawning
fissure in
but
cliffs
none more
;
striking.
There
are John's Peril, a great,
one of the
the
huge, oval-shaped mass called

for a savage
Egg Rock
Castle
a beautiful
natural structure, which
might almost be taken

buttresses,
fortress.
Rock, with
to
;
battlements, embrasures,
and
turrets, the
only kind of counterpart
the
a
castle-ruins
which
so
richly
deck
Cliff
;
European scenes
that
our new
;
America
affords
boiling and seething Caldron

natural
arch, with
a deep-bass Roaring
top,
Cavern
and a most grotesque yet noble

in the rock,
cone-like
and leading to a natural room
which
is
known
as
Irene's
Grotto.
Beyond the broad Long

almost
a
Beach,'
which sweeps from the jiromontory of Nahant

is
in
straight
line to
Red Rock,
its
the
not
less
beautiful
and
fashionable
clusters of
sea-side
resort of
Swampscott, with
Dread Ledge, and pretty beach, and

;
charming
out
far
s{)ot
and lavishly-adorned marine

into
villas
while just northeastward of Swampscott juts

historic
the
sea
the
rude
and
uneven and
peninsula of Marblehead.
This
was one of the

porated by the
first
settled in
New
England, the town of Marblehead ha\ing been incorfifteen
Puritan
colony just
years
after
the
landing of the
Pilgrims
in
at
Plymouth.
der,
So bleak and bare
are the
Marblehead rocks that Whitefield asked,

It
is
won(jueer
"Where do
still
they bury their dead?"

built
a (piaint old settlement, with

l)efore
tiie
many
houses
standing which were
and
occupied
little
Revolution.
it
The
sea
penetrates the peninsula with a narrow and deep

122
harbor
and
is
around
this that
402
the
town has
a
clustered.
Once
fait
on
time Marblchcad was

for its fishermen
;
mous
is "
and
the scene of VVhittier's poem,
Skipper
Ireson's
Ride."
it
hundred years ago

to
was, next
Boston, the
in
most populous
town
its
Massachusetts.
Now
character has almost wholly
changed from the olden time,

for tre
it
has the
become
shoe
-
a brisk cen-
of
manufacture.
is
The
Old
Fort
plain,
hoary -looking
edifice,
standing
of
the
on
the
rugged
slope
promontory looking toward the

sea.
Just
around the extremity

are
of Marblehead
the
harbor
ancient
and
the
still
more
of
Puritan
settlement
after
Salem.
landing
be-
Seven years
at
the
Plymouth,
"
the
district
tween the
great
river
called
Merrimac" and the Charles was

set
off
as
separate
colony
and the year afterward Endicott

selected
Salem
colony.
as
It
the
capital
of this
was
called
Salem, "from
the
peace which
it."
they had and hoped in

all
Of
it
New
England
plainly
towns,
the
bears
most
stamp
It
is
of a venerable antiquity. a
grave
are
and
still
staid
place,
and
there
streets
largely
composed of the
'laiiiiiiiiilWilftiiiilS
statel\-
man-
sions
of the
colonial
;
and ma-
rine aristocracy
ftM-
Salem was
THE EASTERN SHORE.

houses packed with the choicest fabrics and spices of the
a
403
once not only a metropolis, but a port teeming with lordly East-Indiamen, and wareOrient.
([uaint
It
is,
commercially,
tradi-
stranded
It
city,
reposing upon
antiquarian
its
memories, and brimful of

its
and striking
is
tions.
has
its
museums and
historic
buildings,
and here
sacredly
Point of Cape Ann, from Cedar Avenue,
Pigeon Cove.
preserved
is
the
original
charter
still
granted by Charles
in
I.
to Massachusetts Bay.
in
Here, too,
the
oldest
church
standing
New
fine
England, erected
1634, and
it
whose
first
pastor was
Roger Williams.
artist,
Salem was the town of witches; and
was on the
hill
is
represented by the
from which a
view of the picturesque and drowsy town
404
The Merrimac.
had, that the old
women who
were
suspected of dealing in charms and

spells
were incontinently hanged by
the grim old settlers.
In
skirting
the coast, after
is-
suine
from Salem Harbor, vou
al-
most immediately reach the and far-projecting peninsula
broad
at
the
end of which
which
dary
of
is
Cape Ann, and

northern
forms
the
bounis
Massachusetts
Bay.
Included
between
this
and
Scituate,
on
of
the
south,
the great, semicircular basin which

coast
tive
narrows into
is
the
spacious
spots
Island,
harbor
at
Boston.
The
attracfor
between
and
Salem
and Gloucester
interesting.
studded
with
once
naturally
historically
The rocky
full
Lowell's
famous destination
it,
summer
land,
is
excursions,
appears
in
view from
old
Salem.
Opposite to
a
on the mainyears
Beverley
Beach,
with
the
town of Beverley, but
few
younger
THE EASTERN SHORE.

than Salem, in the near background.
405
From one
forts
of the inomcnadcs here a tine view
is is
had of the
sea,
with
for
its
sprinkHng of
lake,
and iskmds.
little
to the north, inland,
Wenham, noted
charming
and the spot of which an old English

is
traveller
of two centuries ago said,
"Wenham
its
a delicious
paradise;"
while beyond
is
Ipswich,
with
its
"
healthy
hills,"
"
and
are
ancient
female
seminary, where the yVndover students,
says a venerable writer,

Puritans."
wont
to take to
themselves wives of the daughters of the

lies
The
quaint village of Manchester

is
on the rugged shore
and, soon
after
passing
it,
the harbor of Gloucester

is
entered.
sea-coast
Gloucester
a characteristic
Its
New-England
is
town.
It
is
the metropolis of
the Northern fisheries.

coast
;
harbor
one of the most picturesque and attractive on the

at
and the town

age
rises gradually
from the wharves, presenting

All around
it
once the aspect of

of view seaward,
venerable
and of present
cliffs,
activity.
are fine jioints

relief
beaches, and rocky
with a more generous share of the
of verdure than along

retired
the
more southerly
coast.
Interspersed with the residences of the
captains
and
well-to-do fishermen,
as
who form
a large portion of the pojjulation, are fine mansions used

is
summer
residences;
for Gloucester, as well as its vicinity,

in the
favorite
resort.
Many
and various are the scenes

beautiful,
neighborhood, which curiosity, wonder, and love of the

the rocks and inlets.
have sought out
among
Of one
of these Longfellow has
written in
"The Wreck
of the Hesperus:"
" And
fast
through the midnight dark and drear,

sleet
Through the whistHng
and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept
Toward
the reef of
Norman's Woe."
Norman's
Woe
is,
indeed, a
drear
and
sombre mass of rocks, lying just beyond the

has struck
it
shrub-frino-ed
shore,
where manv a
vessel
against
the
ragged
reefs
in
the
northeast
storms, though
on a calm summer's day
adds
one of the elements of a

attractive
beautiful marine landscape.
Near by
are
other
curiosities,
to
the
sight-seers
is
who make
Rafe's
their headquarters in the vicinity.

fissure
in
Among
irregular
them, perhaps the most notable
Chasm, an enormous
hundred
feet,
the
it
and
high-piled
fifty
ledge,
which yawns
impris-
into the rock a
and pierces
fierce
to a dejith of
feet.
Mere the
oned waves
at
times struggle with

is
and sonorous
in
fury, the
noise of their roar, heard

the
reality
in
long before the spot

thouo-h
insensate
is
reached,
endowing them,
far off
is
the fancy, with
of living
trap-rock
savawerv.
Not
another marvellous fissure

villas
the
and beyond
the
bright
and cheerful colony of summer
which have clustered
around Goldsmith's Point.
Cape Ann
and
hills
is
really
an island, being separated from the main-land

Its
\^x
Siiuam River
a canal called the Cut.
general
appearance
in
is
rugged and rocky, with granite
and ledges,
in
some
places
craggy and bald,
others
grown
o\-er
with wild
and
PORTSMOUTH AND
ISLES
OF SHOALS.
THE EASTERN SHORE.

picturesque forests.
407
From Tompson's Mountain

and
the excursionist obtains a superb view,
not only of the sea

the yellow
immediate
coast, but of
Massachusetts
Bay and Boston, with
dome
in
of the State-House looming in the distance, on the south, and
Mount
and
Monadnock,
New
Hampshire,
in the northwest.
Below may be seen broad marshes,

with wild, entangled
of grain.
dells
is
beautified by an
abundance of magnolias and
water-lilies,
fields
winding brooks, orchards and meadows, and waving

for its trees
Cape .\nn
noted
and
fiora.
Here grow picturesque

;
tracts of
woodland, contrasting pleasantly
with the great gray rocks and the azure sea

the yellow -pine, red -cedars, and
flowers
there are the oak, the birch, the maple, and
the
beautiful
air,
red-gum
tree;
while the wealth of wild-
masses
and
of roses perfuming the
the trailing arbutus, dog's-tooth violets, tender
wind-flowers, innocents
flelds
and
sassafras,
columbines and wake -robins makes the marshy

a
ledge
crevices
glow with
kaleidoscope
of
color
and
exquisite
botanic
textures.
Onlv
ample
less
romantic than Xahant are the outermost shores of Cape Ann, while the
foliage adds a feature
which even
the
gardening-art
cannot
impart
to
the
more
southerly resort.
ing-place
;
Pigeon Cove,
is
especially, has in these later days
become
a noted water-
for here
not only a noble view of the waters, but the opportunity to enjoy
many
a delightful excursion
amid the lovely scenes and marvellous sculpture which

place has been provided with wide avenues
striking
Na-
ture has provided.
The
little
and promenades,
the
with groves of oak and pine, which lead to
landscape-viewsamong them
Breakwater, which forms the outer wall of the snug
little
cove, and Singer's Bluff, which
overhangs the
sea.
Passing from
the
varied
beauties
of
Pigeon
Cove,
with
its
alternate
is
ruggedness,
glistening beach, and luxuriant foliage, the northern side of
Cape Ann
crossed
by an
ancient road, which at times enters beneath an arching

sight of the
of willows, and again emerges in

is
waves and
village
sails.
In a short while Annisquam

the
reached, and then the ven-
erable
sea-side
of Essex, just where

little
peninsula
rejoins
the
main-land.
The
coast for a while

ness,
until
its
becomes
notable
for
any peculiar
characteristics
of picturesqueis
the
broad,
bay -like mouth
of the
"great" river
Merrimac
approached.
decliv-
From
ity,
entrance, the old, historic
town of Newbury port, surmounting an abrupt

is
some
it
three miles up the broad and rapid river,
espied.
Like Salem and Marblea
head,
is
one of those antique coast-towns which have, to

relics
large
degree, lost
their
maritime importance, while preserving the

prosperity.
inspire
and mementos of a former commercial

traditions
in
Few
places
more abound with
old
and
family
histories,
and few
more pride
in their annals
and past glories
the breasts of the natives.

is
The
even.
shore between
Newburyport and Portsmouth
almost continuously straight and

neari\- dis-
The abrupt
eccentricities of
bowlder and storm-hewed rock-masses have

the
place
appeared.
Long and sunny

fissures,
beaches have taken
of
craggy
peninsulas and
yawning
sinuous inlets and shapeless projections.
Salisbury,
Hampton, and Rye,
4o8
Caswell's
Peak,
Star
Island.
occupying
the
larger
portion
of the brief coast which
New
long
Hampshire
stretches
possesses, are
of sand,
interspersed
here
and there with rocks, but presenting rather
the softer and
more
of
cheerful than the rugged and
awful
aspects
marine
Nature.
Colonies of
cosey sea-side cottages, and large

line the shores; and, in
summer
hotels,
July and August,

are
alive
Hamp-
ton
bathers,
and
Rye Beaches
with
carriages,
and saunterers on the long, surf-washed reaches.

like
Portsmouth,
Newburyport,
is
situated
on a river-bank, some three miles from

it
the open sea, there being a spacious bay between

directly in
its
and the Maine shore, with an island and interesting traditions

in
mouth.
"There
are
more quaint
in
hou.ses
Ports-
mouth," says
one
writer,
"than
any other town of
New
England"
proposition,
It
is,
however, which the townsmen of Newburyport and Salem would eagerly dispute.
THE EASTERN SHORE.

indeed, a singularly venerable and tranquil-looking old place, with
streets,
409
many
irregular,
shaded
Its his-
which look as
full
if
they had been quietly slumbering for
many
generations.
tory
is
of incident, and connected with
many
of the stirring events of colonial
and
first
Revolutionary days.
called
"
Indeed, Portsmouth was settled as long ago as 1623, and was
Strawberry
in
Bank,"
its
;
from
It
the
exceeding
at first
jicrils
cjuantity
of
strawberries
wiiicli
it
were
from
found growing
vicinity.
was
fortified
with
])alisades, to
it
secure
Indian depredations
and many were the
through which
it
passed in the early days.
After the Revolution, a French traveller found

ruins,
with "a thin population,
many houses
in
women and
children in rags, and every thing
announcing
and so
decline."
it
But, speedily,
Portsmouth revived, and became a busy and
thrifiy port;
continues to this day.

the
Isles of
The
chief natural attraction in the vicinity of
Portsmouth
is
Shoals, a
Portland,
133
from Peak's Island.
41
islands, Iving
group of eight bare and rugged

cated with bv a comfortable
alunit
nine
miles off the

hotels
coast,
communifor
little
steamboat, and provided with

largest
and
cottages
summer
visitors.
The
isles
are small in extent, the

acres.
Appledore only
little
containing
about three hundred and

fairv-like, in
fifty
From
the
main-land
they ajjpear shadowy, almost
their
dim
all
outline.
As
the steamboat
approaches, they separate into distinct

vegetation, and having
elevations of rock,
having a bleak and barren aspect, with

tar
jagged reefs running

island of the
out in
in
all
directions
among
hog's
the waves.
Appledore, the principal

is
group,
rises
the
shape of a
back, and
the
least
it
irregular
in
appearance.
Its ledges rise

little
some
seventy-five feet above the sea, and

are
is
divided by a
narrow, picturesque
valley,
wherein
its
here
and there timid scraps of shrubbery,

only buildings on the island.
and where are situated the hotel and

solitude
in
chalets, tiie
The
rocks,
and grandeur of the sea

interstices
are to be enjoyed to the fullest
on these gaunt
where,
whose
manv
lonely
nook
may
be
discovered
fanned
a
by cool
breezes of pure
stillness
sea-air,
the marine landscape

lash,
may
be contemplated
amid
surrounding
Just
broken only by the

is
murmur, and
flat,
trickling in
and out of the waves. on whose black

is
by Appledore
a stalwart
Smutty-Nose
has
Island, low,
and
insidious,
reefs
many
most
vessel
been
torn
to
destruction.
Island, with
A
its
quarter of a mile off
the
picturesque of the
island-cluster,
Star
odd
little
village of Gosport, the

its
quaint towered and steepled church of which crowns the crest of

just
highest point
and
by
is
Scavey's Island.
On
the west, toward the main-land,

;
is
Londoner's, jagged and
shapeless, with a diminutive
beach
while
two miles away
is
the
most
forbidding and
dangerous of
all
these islands.
at
Duck
and
Island,
many
of whose ledges are hidden insidiously
beneath the water

sea-gulls,
high
tide,
at
low
tide are often seen
covered with the
big,
white
which shun the inhabited

a
isles.
Mrs. Thaxter, a native of Appledore, and well

this
known
as
poetess, thus charmingly describes

:
fantastic
and
fascinating
group of
ledge and trap dike

for
"
Swept by every wind
that blows, and beaten by the bitter brine,
unknown
ages, well
may
the Isles of Shoals
be
barren, bleak, and
bare.
At
first
sight,
nothing can
be
more rough and inhospitable than they

sun, rain, snow, frost,
if
appear.
The
incessant
influences of
wind and
and spray, have so bleached the tops of the
rocks
ness
that
they look hoary as
with age, though in the summer-time a gracious green-
of vegetation breaks, here and there, the stern outlines, and softens
somewhat
their
rugged aspect.
Yet, so forbidding are their shores,
it
seems scarcely worth while to land

lonely sea
upon them
smiling,
'
mere
welcome
heaps of tumbling granite
in
the wide and

'
when
and
will
all
the
sapphire-spangled marriage-ring of the land

his returning
lies
ready to
woo
the voyager back

scents, that
see,
again, and
prow with pleasant sounds, and
sights,
the wild waters never know.

ears that will
hear.
But to the human creature who has eyes that

a
and
Nature appeals with such

is
novel charm
that
the
luxurious
beautv
of the land
a
is
half forgotten before he
aware.
The
very wildness and desolation reveal

sea
is
strange
beauty to him.
In
tlic
earlv
morning the
rosy,
and the skv
the line
PORTLAND HARBOR, AND ISLANDS.
4i:
of land
tered
is
radiant
the scattlie
sails
glow with
that
de-
licious color
touches so
bleak
tenderly
rocks."
the
bare,
Isles
The
of Shoals
a place
have, latterly
become
resort,
of
popular
and
on
Appledore and
are
Star
Islands
comfortable
hotels
in
and
cottages,
which
summer
are filled to ovêrflowing with
lovers of the
subtile
charms
of the sea.
Beyond Portsmouth
coast
the
runs tolerably even for

distance
some
then,
northward
Harbor,
from
Wells
bends gradually to the northeast,
until
the
isle -
crowded
is
entrance
reached.
CJ
of
It
Saco
is
River
dotted
all
along
with
marine
hamlets
here and
beach,
slight
and
fishing-villages,
there a bit of broken
and
now and
York
then
promontory
sea.
overlooking
the the
be-
Beach
-
is
j)rincipal
sand
expanse
tween
land,
Portsmouth and Portand

slopes
gently
to
the water from the eminences

behind.
The
coast
increases
in variegated
beauty north of
York, and
affords
ample op-
portunities for fishermen, bathers,
and loungers bv the ocean.
Nothing could be more

strikingly
picturesque,
how-
ever, than the
marine scenery
THE EASTERN SHORE.

about Portland, or than that most rural of New-England
its
413
itself,
cities
as
it
perches
on
high
cliffs
above bay,
the
great
valley, island,
and
sea.
its
It
was
settled very early in the colonial

it
histor)^ but
fire
of
1866 caused
renovation, and
now
bears a fresh and

citizens
modern
land
as well as otherwise bright
and
its
thrifty aspect.
Well may the

its
of
Port-
be
proud of
;
its
superb
site;
exquisite
;
surroundings;
fine,
deep, and well-
sheltered harbor environs.
its
cheerful, shaded streets
its
handsome public
is
buildings,
and
its
tasteful
The
peculiarity of the Portland landscape
that
it
presents Nature rather in
her softer and more cheerful than in her grand and
rugged
aspects.
The many
richest
islands
which dot Casco Bay are

foliage,
bright, in
summer, with the
softest
and
verdure
to
ecjual
and
the
and are so numerous

of days in the year.
that, like
Lake Winnepiseogee, they

itself
is
are said
number
The bay
one of the most beautiful on the Atlancircular

hills.
its
tic coast,
and has been compared to the bay of Naples, so broad and

is
it
expanse,
Elizain
and so imposingly
beth,
enframed
in
ranges of green
and undulating
is
Cape
which forms the outermost southern point of the bav,
the
nearest
approach
this vicinitv to the
rude and jagged eminences already described as lying farther to the

cliffs,
south.
It
is
a series of lofty, jutting
rising
abruptly from the ocean, and crowned
with
wood and
shrubbery, which
;
relieve
its
gauntness.
The Twin-Sisters Light-houses
stand on the end of the cape

of the
larly
and from these an inspiring view of the bay and harbor,

its
distant
city rising
above
ledges, of the
many
islands
lying
close
and
irregu-
between shore and shore, and,
in the distance, of the torn

is
and stormy promontories

is
which stretch out north of Portland,

uriant
in
obtained.
Nearer Portland
Peak's Island, lux-
foliage,
and varied with
natural
bowers and lovely
retreats.
Here, too,
;
is
favorable stand-point
whence
to
look
upon the genial and varied landscape

picnics,
is
while Diafor
its
mond
and
Island, the pet spot for

trees,
its
"down-East"
famous the country round
groves of noble
its
occasionally rocky shore interspersed with narrow bits of beach,
natural lawns of deep-green turf.
One
of the largest and most attractive spots in Portland
Harbor
is
Cushing's Island,
the edges of which are bordered by high bluffs crowned with shrubs and turf with here
and there a low, rocky shore or a graceful

prising
inlet.
The
island
is
one of the
largest,
com-
two hundred and

sojourners.
fifty
acres,
and
is
provided with a single building, an hotel for

is
summer
The view from

for
it
here
perhaps more various and extensive than
from any other point,
includes the harbor, ship-channel, and city, on the one hand,

other.
and the towering ledges of Cape Elizabeth on the and Portland Light, loom
in the
Forts Preble, Scammel, Gorges,

of
near distance
climes
;
the busy wharves
Portland
are
seen
crowded with
their
craft
of
many
the neighboring
the
islands present each a novel
and contrasted aspect of shape and color
heavy sea-breakers
bay
its
;
may
a
be seen
is
settling
themselves into the smooth, blue ripple of the

the the
and sometimes
sister
glimpse
had of
snowy summit of Mount Washington, and

far
eminences, dimly
outlined
on
northwestern horizon.
THE ADIRONDACK REGION

'
JtES
Ascent of Whiteface.
TT
-*-
is
common
in
notion
among
Europeans
there
is
even
little
those
who have
in
travelled
ex-
tensively
this
country
that
very
grand scenery
is
the
United
States east of the Mississippi River.
The
cause of this delusion
obvious enough.
The
is
great routes of travel run through the fertile plains, where the mass of the population
naturally found,
and where the great
cities
far
have consequently
aloof from
arisen. lines
The grand and

of railroad
;
picturesque scenery of the country
lies
the
great
and

the traveller whirls
415
on
the
for
hundreds
region,
of miles
through
that
level
and
decides
is
the
aspect
of
America
verv tame
that
it
and
monot-
onous, and
to
has no scenery
show except the Highlands of

Hudson, Lake George, and the
the
Falls of Niagara.
In
alone,
the
State
of
say
New York
nothing of
sea
-
however
to
and
the
of
mountains
the
coast
New
England, or the mountains

Virginia,
of
Pennsylvania,
North
are
Carolina, and Tennessee

vast regions
there
to
of the
most beautiful
which
penea
and
the
picturesque
foreign
scenery,
traveller
seldom
trates,
and
of
which
scarcely
glimpse can
great
lines
be
obtained from the
of railroad, which
for
have
of
been
trade,
established
purposes
sight
lies
-
and
of the
not
for
seeing.
West
Hudson
half
in
mounas
tainous
region,
as
large
Wales, abounding
grand scenery,
artist
known
yond
State,
only to the wandering

;
or the adventurous hunter

that,
in
and beof
the
re-
the
centre
still
lower and
with
world,
larger
gion,
studded
in
the
loveliest
lakes
the
and
adorned
with
beautiful
villages,
romantically
situated
amid rocky
glens, like that
of Watkins, exhibiting
strangest
freaks
some of the
Nature
any-
of
where
of
to
be
seen,
and
water-falls
prodigious
height
and
of
the
wildest beauty.
riic
Ausable Chasm.
But the "randeur of the Cats-
4i6
Birmingham
Falls,
Ausable Chasm.
kills,
and the loveliness of the lake-region of Central

great
far
New
York, are both surpassed
in
the
Wilderness of Northern
New
York, the
Adirondack,
where the
mountains
tower
above the
loftiest
of the Catskills, and where the lakes are to be counted by
the hundreds, and are not surpassed in beauty even by
Lakes George, Otsego, or Seneca.
This remarkable
hunters, trappers,
east,
tract,
which thirty years ago was known, even by name, only to a few
lies
and lumbermen,
between
It
Lakes George and Champlain on the

extends, on the north, to Canada, and,
and the
St.
Lawrence on the northwest.
THE ADIROXDACK REGIOX.

on
the
south,
417
nearly
it
to
the
Mo-
hawk.
lararer
fact, size,
In
area
is
eonsiderabl)^
than
nearly
Connectieut,
and,
in
in
approaches
resembles
Wales
and
in
its
that
country
also
mountainous character,
though many of the mountains are

a
thousand
than
or
two
thousand
of
feet
higher
the
highest
the
Welsh.
Five ranges of mountains, run-
ning
nearly
parallel,
traverse
the
to
Adirondack
northeast,
from
southwest
where they terminate on

of
the
shores
fifth
Lake
Champlain.
The
and
most westerly range

Falls,
begins
at
Little
and
termi-
nates at Trembleau Point, on
Lake
Champlain.
Clinton
It
bears
the
it
name
is
Range, though
called
It
also
sometimes
Range.
the
Adirondack
the
contains
highest
lot-
peaks of the whole region, the

tiest
being
five
Mount Marcy,
thousand
feet
or Taha-
wus,
three
high.
attain
hundred
and thirty-three
Though
to the
none of these peaks

height
the
of
the
loftiest
summits of
of
White
Mountains
or
the
New
Moun-
Hampshire,
tains of
Black
North Carolina,
their gen-
eral elevation
surjiasses that of
any
range
tains.
east
of
the
Rocky Mounof
The
in
entire
number
is
mounto
tains
this region
five
supposed
exceed
hundred, of which only
a few have received separate names.
The
wus,
highest
are
peaks,
besides
Di.\
124
TahaI'he
Stairway,
.Vusablc
Chasm.
W^hiteface,
Peak,
CLEARING A JAM, GREAT FALLS OF THE AUSABLE.
419
aliawus.
Seward. Coldcn, Mclnt)re, Sant
moni,
Snowy
Pharaare
feci
Mountain
oh
not
in
lar
ill
and
of
which
trom
hvc
thousand
sea.
hcioht
all
above the
They
cov-
are
wild and savaoe, and

the
"
ered
with
the
forest
jjrinuval,"
e.\cei)t
stony summits of the

rise
highest,
which
above
all
vege-
tation but that of
mosses, grasses,
pine
plants.
These
be
the
high
oldest
sunmiits
land
are
thought
b\
geologists,
first
to
on
the
globe, or the
which showed
itself
above the waters.

lie
In
l)eautiful
the
valleys
between
ponds, to
the
mountains
numljcr,
many
lakes
and
the
jierhaps, of
more than
is
a thousand.
fifteen
tiie
The
general level of these lakes
about
hundred
feet
above the sea;

is
but Avatwice that
lanche Lake,
elevation
highest of them,
tide-water.
at nearly
above
length,
Some
of them are
a
twenty
miles
in
while
others
cover only
few acres.
the
Sara-
The
nacs,
largest
of these
lakes
are
Long Lake,
and
Tupper, the
Fulton
Lakes,
Lakes
Golden,
Henderson,
Sanford,
Eckford,
rise
Racket,
thei
Forked, margins
;
Newbeau-
comb, and
tiful
IMeasant.
Steep, densely-wooded
borders,
mountains
points
jut
f.om
bays
indent
their
and
leafy
out;
spring
l-rooks
tmkle
420
while
tlio
PIC I
sliallows
URESQ UE AMERICA.
water -grasses
\('ll()w
are
frino-ed
wiili
and
llowering-
plants,
and covered
all
li>\-ely
sometimes with
romantic
in
acres
of wiiite
and
their
water-lilies.
Tiie
lakes
are
and
evrrv ihins^ except
names, and the scenery they

savage
forest,
is
offer,
in
comhination
with the towerin<>- mountains anil rhe old and

in natural
features
it
not
surpassed
on
earth,
greatly resembles Switzeiiand and the Scottish
Highlands, as they
Whiteface,
from Lake Placid.
must have been before those regions were

says that an
that,
settled
and cultivated.
The Rev. Mr. Murray

a \'ear or
American
artist,
travelling
all
in
Switzerland, wrote
home,
two
ago,
"having travelled over
Switzerland and the Rhine and
Rhone
regions, he had
not met with scenery which, judged
from
purel)' artistic
point
of \iew,
combined so
forests
many
beauties in connection with such grandeur as the lakes, mountains, and
of
the Adirondack region presented to the gazer's eye."

This labyrinth of lakes
is
421
in-
tertwined and connected by a very

intricate
system
of
rivers,
brooks,
and
ble,
rills.
The
Boquet,
Saranac, the Ausa-
the
in
;
and
the
Racket,
this wil-
rise
and flow through
derness
and
in
its
loftiest
and
most dismal recesses are found the

springs of the
liest
Hudson and
its
ear-
branches.
The
however
tery
chief river of Adirondack,

its
great highway and ar-
is
the
Racket, which
in
rises in
Racket Lake,
of Hamilton
the
western
part
a
County, and,
of about
miles,
It
is
after
devious dred
the
course
one
flows
huninto
and twenty
St.
Lawrence.
river
the most
beautiful
Its
of
the
Wilderness.
low,
shores
are
generally
and
extend
tile
back
some
distance in fer
meadows, upon which grow the

maple the aspen,
other
alder, linden,
trees,
soft
and
deciduous
the
inter-
spersed
pine.
with
hemlock
its
and
These fringe
borders, and.
standing in clumps upon the mead-
ows
give
tiful
in
the
midst
of
rank
grass,
M^-
them the appearance of beaudeer-parks

;
and
it
is
there, in-
deed, that the deer chiefly pasture.
Except these meadows of the

Racket, and the broad expanses of
lakes and
ponds, the whole surface

is
of the Wilderness
a
covered with
tangled
forest,
through
penetrate.
which
man
can
scarcely
The
trees are the pine,
hemlock, spruce,
on
the
white-cedar, and
fir,
lowest
422
grounds
anil
J'/CTL'RESQ UE
and
higher
slopes
AMERICA.
thr
hills
;
and
elm,
summits
on
ihe
ot"
and
tlic
maple,
liri'ch,
lie
white
great
foli-
black
ash,
iiirch,
and
in
intermeiliate
in
surface.
Everywhere
waxiuL^'
lofty
prone trunks mantled

age
shut
moss, while
overhead,
summer, the
plumes of
out
the
light,
and scarcely admit the
air.
Under
the
trees are others,
white-birch and aspen, with the saplings of the foimer trees, and
bushes of hopple
and
tears
sumach, that scarcely see the
light or fixd
the wind.
But occasionally the tornado
through, and leaves tracks which time turns into green alleys and dingles, where the bird
builds and the rabbit gambols.
rocks, grasping
Loosened
trees lean
on their
fellows,
and others grow on

All looks
them with immense claws which plunge

"
into the
mould below.
monotonous, and seems dreary.
But
select
a spot," says
Mr. Street, the poet of these
Kouiiil
Lake,
from
Hartlelt's.
woods;
"let the eye
become
a little
accustomed
to
the scene, and
how
the
picturesque
beauties, the delicate,

tints
in
minute charms, the small, overlooked

!
things, steal out, like as
lurking
an
old
picture
;
See that wreath of

it
fern, graceful
the garland of a
Greek
yon
victor at the
games
at
how
hides the dark, crooked root writhing, snake-like, from
beech
Look
the beech's instep steejjed in moss, green as emerald, with

in garlands, or in
other
moss
Besatin-
twining round the silver-spotted trunk

hold
broad, thick, velvety spots!
yonder stump, charred with the hunter's camp-fire, and glistening, black, and
its
like, in
cracked ebony!
!
Mark yon mass
of creeping pine, mantling the black

!
mould
See
hues!
with furzy softness

the
View
those polished cohosh-berries, white as drops of pearl
purple
barberries and crimson clusters of the
hopple
contrasting
their
vivid
423
and the massive

-
logs, peeled
ffrav,
"
by decay-
what
in
downy
smoothness! and the grasses

wclterina:
!
which
they are
how
found
full
of
beautiful
motions and
outlines
Indian
Carry,
Upper Saranac.
In these
woods and
the
in
these
mountain
great
is
soli-
tudes
bear, the
are
panther,
the
black
wolf,
the
wild-cat,
the
lynx,
and the wolverine.
Even
the
moose
some-
times met with.

rat,
Deer
are abundant;
rabbit,
and
so,
also, are
the
fisher, sable, otter,
mink, musk-
fox, badger,
woodchuck,
and several
varieties of the squirrel.
There are scarcely
any snakes, and none large or venomous.
Among
and
the the
birds
are
the
grand black war-eagle, several kinds of hawk, owl, loon,
duck
crane, heron, raven, crow, stake-driver,
mud-hen, brown thrush, partridge,

the
blue-jay, blackbird, king-fisher,
and mountain-finch.
latter also
in
The salmon-trout and

the brooks and rivers.
in
speckled
lake-trout
trout
are
swarm
in
the
lakes,
and the
The
caught
sometimes of twent\- pounds and more
weight
the speckled trout, how-
ever, are not large, except in rare cases, or in seldom-visited
ponds or brooks.
in
Natural curiosities abound

forests
still
in
Adirondack.
That others are buried
the
terrific
darkening two-thirds of the surface, cannot be doulitcd.

the
curiosities
Among
the edse
known
are
Lake Paradox, whose
outlet
in
high water flows

is
back on the lake; the pond on the summit of Mount Joseph, whose rim
;
close
upon
the mineling of the fountains of the
Hudson and Ausable,

the
in
freshets, in the
Indian Pass;
the torrent-dashes or lace-work from
greater
or
lesser
rain
down
the
grooved
side of
Mount Colden toward Lake Avalanche;

streams
into
the three lakes on the top of
Wallface, sending
the
St.
Lawrence
l)y
Cold
River and the
Racket, into
Lake Champlain by the Ausable, and

of the
the Atlantic
by the
Hudson
the
enormous rocks
if
Indian
Pass standing ui)on sharp edges on
steep slopes, and
looking as
the
deer, breaking off against
them
his \êarly antlers,

frost,
would topple them headlong, yet detrees

;
fying
unmoved
the
mighty agencies of
and plumed with towering

thi'
with
all
the
cavern
intricac\-
between and underneath
fallen
masses,
where the
ice
gleams
424
unmrltcd
year
;
ilirouii'hout
the
in-
and the same rock

Fantlicr
tricacy in the
Gorge
Taha-
of
Mount Marcy,
or
wus.
The Wilmington Notch

and
the
Indian
Pass
are
great curiosities.
is
The former
by
thus
in
:
described
his
Mr.
Street,
"Woods and
Elba,
Waters
"
At
a
North
bridge
we
the
crossed
where
Ausable came winding down,

and
tlien
followed
its
bank
toward
the
northeast, over a
good
erally
hard
wheel-track, gen-
descending,
with
the
thick
ally
woods almost continuus,
around
and the
darts
little
river shooting
at us
"
of light
through the
leaves.
At
length a broad sumto

a
taller
mit,
rismg
one,
at
broke
our
above
the
at
foliage
right,
and
the
same
time a gigantic mass of rock
and
our
forest
left
saluted
us
upon
the
giant portals of
entered.
the notch.
pass
We
The
press-
suddenly
the
shrank,
river
ing
rocky
and
It
rough road close together.
was
chasm
cloven
boldly
through the flank of Whiteface.
On
the
each
side
towered
at in
the
left
mountains,
range
but
rose
our
still
sublimer altitude, with grand

precipices
like a
425
majestic
wall,
or a
line
of
palisades climbing sheer from the half-way forests
upward.
The crowded row

and wavy
crest
of pines along
to
the broken
a
fringe.
was diminished
except
The
whole
witli
prospect,
the
rocks,
was dark
thickest, wildest
woods.
As we
rode slowly through the still-narrowing
gorge, the mountains soared higher and higher,

as
if
to
scale
the
I
clouds,
presenting
within
it.
truly
a
1
terrific
majesty.
to
shrank
myself;
seemed
dwindle
beneath
Something
alike to dread pervaded the scene.

tains appeared knitting their stern
The mounbrows into
one threatening frown

into
their
stately
at
our daring intrusion
solitudes.
Nothing seemed
but the plunge
eagle.
native to the
awful landscape
of the torrent
and
the
scream of the
at
Even
the
sh}-,
wild deer, drinking
the stream,
would have been out of keeping.

our
with
left,
Below, at
the
dark
Ausable
dashed
in
onward
hoarse, foreboding
murmurs,
harmony
with the loneliness and wildness of the spot.

"
We
passed two miles tiirough this subat
lime avenue, which

tially lighted
"
mid-day was only par-
from the narrow roof of sky.

itself
At
length the peak of Whiteface

at in
appeared above the acclivitv
our
left,
and,
once emerging, kept
in
view
misty azure.
I
There
a
it
stood,
its
crest
whence
like
had gazed
pedestal
his
few days before
rising
some
built
up
by Jove
or
Pan
piled
for
a
to
overlook
it
realm.
The
pinnacles
reared
about
its
seemed
but
dark,
vast
steps
ascent.
One
wooded summit,
mere bulwark of the

its
mighty mass above, showed athwart

a broad, pale
streak,
heart
either
the
])ut
channel
far
of a
for-
vanished torrent, or
another
less
midable
in a
slide.
The notch now broadened,

of the
road, the
and,
rapid
descent
Ausable
426
PIC Ti 'RESOUE AMERICA.

aiâin
in
came
at
view, pkiniiino- ami twistinu
down
At
last
a i>:orge
of rocks, wilh the foam
Wxw^
helds
;
intervals
throuiih
at
the
skirtiny-
trees.
the pass ojjened into eullivaled

east,
the acclivities
our right wheeled
away sharply
but Whiteface yet
waved along
the western horizon."
Tahawus
has
often
been ascendetl, though
the task
is
by no means an easy one.
On Tupper
Lake.
Its his
summit commands
" "
a magnificent prospect, which
is
thus described by Mr. Street
in
Indian Pass
"
:
What
'Where
!
multitude of peaks
The whole horizon

little
is
full
to
up.'
repletion.
As
a guide
said,
there wasn't a big peak, a
one was stuck
Really true, and
how
savage
how
wild
Close on
level.
apparently to a smooth
my To
its
right rises Haystack, a truncated cone, the top shaved
the
west soars the sublime slope of

a
little
Mount
Golden,
of
with
Mclntyre looking over
shoulder;
above, i)oint
of
a
the
purple
peaks
Mount Seward a grand mountain-cathedral with the tops At the southwest shimmers Santanoni in misty sapphire.
Mount Henderson and

dreamy summit
Blue
Bog-I\iver
Tails,
Tupper Lake.
Mountain
while to the south
stands, the
near and
lesser
top of Skylight.
Beyond,
at
the southeast,
wave the
stern
crests
of the Boreas Mountain.

of
Pisa
;
Thence ascends the

it
Dial,
with
its
leaning cone, like

a
the
Tower
and
close
to
swells
the
majesty of
Dix's Peak, shaped like
slumbering
at
lion.
Thence stagger the

Ausaiile
wild, savage, splintered
tops
of the Gothic
Mountains
the
Lower
l\)nd a ragged tiiumler-eloud

linking themselves, on
the
east,
427
with the
tiiat
Noon-Mark and
Rogers's Mountain,
watch over the valley of Kecne.

northeast, rise the
To
the
Edmunds's Pond sumclosed by the
mits
the
mountain-pieture
of
old
sharp
crest
Whiteface
of
the
on
the
north
dacks.
stately
outpost
xVdiron-
Scattered through this picture are
manifold expanses of water

indispensable e3ês of a
those
almost
landscape.
That
is
ghtter
at
the north
;
by old Whiteface
Lake
Pond.
Placid
and the spangle,

streak
as
I3ennett's
Yon
opened
;
running south
'f
from
Mount
been
Seward,
in
silver
vein
had
is
the
stern
mountain,
it
Long Lake
vision, shine
ford,
and,
between
and
our
Lakes
Henderson and Sanof
with
the
sparkles
Lake HarkSal-
ness,
lie.
and the twin-lakes Jamie and
At
the
southwest, glances
beautiful
Blue- Mountain
gestive
Lake
name
South,
edge.
most suglies
and
poetic.
its
Boreas
Pond, with
a
green beaver-meadow and

at
mass
of
rock
the
To
the
southeast, glisten
the
and,
Upper and Lower

farther
off,
Ausable
Ponds
in
the
same
by the
is
direction.
Mud
lona;
!
and
Clear
Ponds,
Dial
lone:,
and Dix's Peak.

g-leam
at
But what
the
east
}
that
Lake
Ime
Champlain
north
?
And
St.
that
glittering
The
Lawrence,
above
"
!
the dark sea of the Canadian
woods
The
gorge
Indian
Pass
is
stupendous
in the wildest
])art
of the .Vdironlonely and savrightly
dack
a'ge
Mountains,
region
in
that
which
the
aborigines
the
named Conyacraga,
derness, the larger
or
Dismal
of
Wilhas
portion
visited
which
white
never
yet
been
by
men.
42i
'-#ry''>^-^
and
which
still
icmains
ot
the secLiie
haunt
the the
wolt
the
panthei,
great black beat, and the

rarei
lynx,
wolveiine,
and moose.
which
form
The
the
springs
sou ice
are found at an elevation of
more
than four thousand feet above the

sea,
in
rocky
recesses,
in
whose
winter
re-
cold
depths
the
ice
of
never melts entirely away, but
mains
the
in
some measure even

months
centre
of
in
hottest
in
the the
year.
pass,
Here,
the
of
rise also
ble,
the springs of the Ausa-
Carry near Little Tupper Lake.
which flows into Lake Chamand whose waters reach the Atlantic through the mouth of the
;
plain,
St.
Lawrence
several
hundred miles from the mouth of the Hudson
and
yet, so close are the springs of
the
the the
two
rivers, that
the wild-cat, lapping the water of the one,
may
bathe his hind-feet
in in
other,
and a rock rolling from the precipices above could scatter spray from both
In freshets, the waters of the two streams actually mingle.
;
same concussion.
The main
stream of the Ausable, however, flows from the northeast portal of the pass
stream of
liie
and the main
Hudson from
the southwest.
It
is
locally
known
as thi'
Adirondack River,

and, after leaving the pass,
429
Hows
of
into
Lakes
IIlmicIctsou
and
Sanfcird.
On
issuinu
fiom
the
them
it
receives
the
name
Hudson, and
tlieir
passes
into
i)rino
Warren County, receiving

ttj
Boreas and the Schroon, which, with
hranciu'S,
it
the waters of a score or
more of mountain
Thirty
years
lakes and of tarns innumerable. ago,
Adirondack was almost

there,
as
unknown
visitors.
as
the
inlcrior
late
(jf
Africa.
(jf
There were few huts or houses
and very few
But of
the numl)er
in
sportsmen and tourists has greatly increased, and taverns have been established
of the wildest spots. of game, or health, or
some
search
In summer, the lakes swarm witli the boats of travellers in
mere contemplation of
Nature.
,
l)eautiful
scenery, and
is
tiie
strange sights
and
sounds of primitive
All travelling
i)y
there
done
i)y
means of boats of
light
small size and slight build, rowed
single
guide, and
made
so
that
the craft
to |)ond,
can be
lifted
from
the
water, and
carried
on the guide's shoulders from pond
(,
'^v:.^
Lont;
L.\ke,
from the Lower Island.
or from stream
to
all
stream.
Competent
for
guides, steady,
intelligent,
and experienced men,

will
can be hired at
tents,
the
taverns
two or three
a
tri]x
dollars
day,
who
])rovide boats,
and every thing requisite

to
a
for
Each
traveller
in
should
have
is
guide
and
boat
dollar
himself,
and
the
cost
of
their
maintenance
Tlie
the
is
woods
not more than a
week
is
for
each
man
of the
partv.
fare
chiefly trout
and venison, of
which there
generally an
abundance
to
l)e
procured by gun anil rod.
good-sized
trip
valise or carpet-bag will hold all the clothes that

in the
one person needs

is
for a
two months'
woods, besides those he wears

following
list
in.
Nothing
wanted but woollen and
flannel.
The
comprises the essentials of an outfit: a complete undersuit of wool"
len or flannel, with
change
"
;
stout
pantaloons, vest, and coat
felt
iiat
two
pairs
of stockings; a pair of
common
winter-boots and camp-shoes;

;
a rubber blanket or coat;
a hunting-knife, belt, and pint tin cup
pair of
warm
blankets, towel, soap, etc.
430
There arc several
routes
is
hv whicli .Xdirondaek ean bv Lake Ciiampkiin.
be
reached
l)nt
tlie
best
and
will
easiest
from
New York
tiiat
The steamer from
Wiiiteliall
land the traveller at Port Kent, on the west side of the lake, nearly opposite Burlington,
X'erniont,
where coaches are always waiting to take passengers,

for
six
miles, to Keeseville.
Here conveyances
ler to
the Wilderness
can
always be had, which
will
fifty
carry
miles,
the
travelis
Martin's Tavern, on the

day's
drive, but
Lower
Saranac, a distance of about
which
long
very pleasant
and
interesting
one.
From
ALirtin's, the
tourist
Mount Seward, from Long Lake.
moves about altogether

his day's
in
boats,
and can, as he
pleases,
camp out
in
his tent, or so
time
voyage
as to pass each night in

in
some one of the rude but comfortable
taverns,
which are now to be found

It
almost
that
all
of the easily-accessible parts of the Wilderness.

artist
falls
was from
for a
this
quarter
to
our
the
entered
Adirondack.
At
Keeseville
he
paused
day or two
sketch
and walled rocks of the Ausable chasm,

this side
which afford some of the

of the
wildest and
most impressive scenes to be found on

mile
or so from Keeseville
is
Rocky Mountains.
At
the distance of a
Birming-
Round
Island,
Long Lake.
ham
Falls,
where the Ausable descends about

;
thirty feet
Falls,
into
semicircular
fifty
basin
feet
of
great beauty
a mile farther
down
are the Great
one hundred and
high,
surrounded by the wildest scenery.
Below
this
the
stream
grows narrower and deeper,
and
rushes
rapidly through the
chasm, where,
five
at the
feet.
narrowest point, a wedged l)owlder
cramps the channel to the width of

run at right angles through
fissures,
or
si.x
From
the
main stream branches

almost
perpendicular
down one
of
which, between
rocks a hundred feet high, hangs an e(]ually steep stairway of over two hundred steps, at

the hoftom of which
is
431
of
narrow platform
rock
formino-
ihc lloor of the lissurc.
From
leading
to
Kccsc\ille the traveller rides westward on a road

Martin's,
on the Lower Saranac.
He
will pass
for a great
part of the
way
in
sight
of Wliitefacc Mountain,
the
great
outpost
of the
Adirondacks.
miles
At
the village of
Ausable
Forks, about twelve
from
KeeseviJle, he can
turn off into a road which leads through the famous W'hitefaee or
Wilmington Notch, and can

it
regain
the
main
Lake.
road
about a dozen miles before

distance by this route
road,
is is
reaches
Saranac
The
not
much
longer than by the main

liner.
and the scenery

from
incomparably
The view
of
Whiteface
Wilmington was pronounced by Professor

finest
Agassiz to be one of the

seen,
mountain-views he had ever

acciuainted with
and
few
men were
better
mountain-
scenery than Agassiz.

ble River, with
a
Through
the
notch
Hows the Ausacataracts,
succession
of rapids
and
down
which
forests
is
floated
much
of the timber cut in the Adirondack
by the hardy and adventurous lumberers, some idea

of
whose
the
toils
and
of
at
dangers
"
may
a
be
formed
the
from
sketch
is
Clearing
Jam,"
scene of which
falls
the head of one
of the
of the Ausable, in the

the
village
Wilmington Notch,
our
artist
is
of
Wilmington
Whiteface,
ascended
which
second only to Tahawus

~~'-
among
beinsr
the mountains,
its
heisfht
feet.
nearly five
its
thousand
At
side,
foot,
on the southwest
Placid,
lies
Lake
one of the
the
loveliest
ness.
lakes
of
Wilder-
From
this lake,
which
is
fa\'orite
tile
summer
resort,
one
of
best views of
Whiteface
can be obtained.
From Lake
tin's
is
Placid to
Marover
road.
a few hours' drive

l)ut
is
a
Watching
for
rough
picturesque
a
large
Deer,
on
Long
L.ike.
Martin's
and com-
432
foitable hotel
on
the-
very edge
of the
tiful
Lower
six
Saranae, a beauor
lake,
seven
miles
lone:
and two miles wide, studislands, fifty-
ded with romantic
two
in
number.
it
The Saranae
with
River connects
Round
Lake, three miles to the westward.
Round Lake
in
is
about
is
two miles
famous
its
diameter, and
storms.
It
is
for its
in
turn
connected
with
the
an-
Upper
other
River,
lett's
Saranae
stretch
Lake
the
by
of
Saranae
Bartbest
on which
Hotel,
stands
one
of
the
and
most
frequented
taverns.
of
the
a
Adirondack
point at
From
no great distance from

fine
the house, a
view can
be
obtained
of
Round Lake and
the surrounding mountains.

short
in
"
carry," of
mile
or so
Bart-
length, conducts from
lett's
to
it
the
is
Upper
easy
to
Saranae,
pass
in
whence
boats
to
St.
Regis
gives
Lake, our
a
view
larly
of which
singuidea
good
the
and
accurate
of
general
characteristics
of
short
Adirondack
voyage
in
scenery.
A
Sar-
the
opposite
direction across the
Upper
anae
boat
will
take
the
the
traveller's
to
Indian
as
it
carry,
is
or
Carey's
carry,
called,
someit
times
to
distinguish
from
The
Indian
Pass.
another
a
carrv,
Sweeny's,
years
ago.
establishetl
few
433
-'.^^'Sii^:
Both lead
to the
Racket River,
the great artery of the Wilderness.
A
the
outlet
few
hours'
brincrs
row
vou
down
to
Racket
of
the
so
Lake
""upper,
named, not from the author of

"
Proverbial
the
Philosophy,"
!0;uide
but
from
hunter or
it.
who
miles
picti
discovered
length, resque,
It
is
several
and
rocky
contains
islands,
manv
covered
the
witl
evergreens.
At
its
head
wil
flow;
and
into
cade,
little-explored
Bog River
the lake
over a
romantic cas-
which
forms one of the great

of
the
attractions
Adirondacks, befor
trout,
ing
famous
near
place
anc
having
popular
by
one
of
of
the
most
Source of the Hudson.
taverns
the
Wilderness,
ago, and
established a few years
kept
by Mr. Graves, who,
in
1S72, whiK'
luinting,
was
his
accidentally killed by his son, being shot by

father
him while aiming
at a deer, witli
which
was
strugâ^Hng' in
the water. the route of the traveller

"
is
From Tupper Lake

ponds
as
up Bog River, through

the
a series of
their
and
an
occasional
in
represented
carries
It
is
our
where engraving to
carrv
"
the
guides take
boats
a
on
backs,
Little
Tupper Lake.
Thence
series
of ponds
and
river.
leads to
Long Lake,
view can
which, for
more than twenty

lakes,
miles, resembles a great
the
longest of the Adirondack
though
there are
many
broader ones.
three hundred
From
this lake a fine

feet
be had of
give also an
in
Mount Seward,
illustration
for
four thousand
and forty-eight
of
this
high.
We
arc
ISfi
of the
deer.
way
in
whicli the guides
res:ion station
themselves
i)ut
trees
to watch
in
The
and
deer are
hunted bv
powerful
hounds,
which
on
their trail
the
woods,
pursue
them with
434
such
tenacity
at
last
that
the
to
frightened
the water.
animal
takes
The
hunters, with
their
boats sta-
tioned at intervals along the shore,
watch patiently
from
the the
water.
till
the deer breaks

into
woods and plunges
The
enters
nearest
his
hunter
gives
in
immediately
chase,
boat,
and
generally
succeeds
overtaking and killing the game.
From Long Lake

dian
to
the In-
Pass
is
very rough journey

part
through
the
wildest
of
the
Wilderness.
tion
We
give
an
illustra-
which conve)'s some idea of
the kind of road the explorer
who
to
ventures
encounter.
thither
may
will
expect
in
it
He
find
at
the
source
tion
of the four
Hudson
thousand
the the
an eleva-
of
three
sea.
hun-
dred
this
feet
above
pool
From
flows
the
there
cas-
lofty
water
into
through
Feldspar
River,
Brook
on
Opalescent
is
which
one of the most picturesque
cades of the Adirondacks.
Of
of the
"
the
scenery
of
the
source
in his
Hudson, Mr. Lossing,
The Hudson from
the Wilderness
to the Sea," writes as follows:
"We
entered
the
tyre
the
rocky gorge
of
cliffs
between
steep
slopes
Mount Mclnof
and
the
Wallface
Mountain.
There we encountered
masses
of
rocks,
enormous
some
ele-
worn by the abrasion of

ments,
the
some
angular,
some
bare,
and
Opalebct-m
l-allh.
some covered with moss, and

of them
many
bearing large
trees,
435
riie
Hudson,
Twenty Miles from
its
Source.
whose
all
roots, clasping
them on
the earth
sides, strike
into
for
sustenance.
One
it
of
the
masses
form,
it
presented
a
full
singular
appearance;
is
of cubic
its
summit
thirty feet
from
its
l)ase,
and upon
this
was quite
grove
of
hemlock
and
cedar
trees.
Around and
partlv
under
and
others lying loosely, apparently kept from rolling by roots and vines,
to clamber a long distance,
we were compelled
feet
its
when we reached
|)oint
more than one hundred

Pass
in
above
wild
the bottom of the gorge, where
we could
sec
cliff,
the
fiimous Indian
all
grandeur.
Before us arose a perpendicular

in
nearly twelve hundred feet from base to
summit, as raw
appearance as
cliff
if cleft
only yesterday.
in
Above
us sloped Mclntyre,
still
more
lofty
than the
in
of Wallface, and
the gorge lay huge piles of rock, chaotic in
position,
cast
in
grand
dimensions, and awful
in
general
aspect.
They appear
Through
to have been
there by
some
terrible
convulsion not
very remote.
these
the waters
of this branch of the

tain
Hudson, bubbling from
a spring not far distant (close by a foun-
of the Ausable), find their way.
Merc
the
head-waters of these rivers commingle
in the spring season, and,

at points a
when they
separate, the\- lind tlieir
way
to the Atlantic
Ocean
thousand miles apart."
THE CONNECTICUT SHORE OF THE SOUND.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BV WILITAM
M.
GIBSON.
THE
of the
vagueness which
in
many minds
attaches itself to
into a generic
the
region
known
as
"
Yan-
kee-land "wiiich abroad expands
itself
its
term
for the
whole territory
and
the
United
States has,
to the
nevertheless,
is
sharp
lines
of definition;
rival,
phrase
"from the Hudson
Penobscot"
hardly a successful
to
in
this respect, to the
more common expression, "from Ouoddy Head

distinctive
line of
localities lies
Byram
;
River."
The former
latter
is
of these
on the remote margin of Maine
and the
the dividing
It
is
Connecticut
and
New
is
York, on the
border of Long-Island
Sound.
at
Byram River
water begins.
that this sketch of the

Its
Connecticut shore of that
extensive
and beautiful
scope
the stretch of that varied shore along the Sound, lor a cenits
of tury of miles, with a final slight digression to Norwich, at the head of one
tary rivers.
tribu-
The
traveller
by the
Shore-Line route,
;
from
New York
to
Boston, follows
the
entire line of the
Connecticut shore
but, in the swift rush
and whirl of his
fiery jour-
which ney, he can get only the briefest and most unsatisfactory suggestions of the beauty
lies all
about,
if
not exactly along, his way.
Its
most
attractive
and fascinating aspects
are not, indeed, in
most
cases, to be seen
without digression and search, involving delay,
and, here and there, delightful excursions.
The temptations
hotels
at
to this delay are everywhere
enhanced
stations.
by
the
general
comfort
of
the
and
near
the
important
railway-
About twenty
the
miles from our great commercial metropolis

that
lies
the
first
station
on
Connecticut
slopes
shore,
just
of
of
Greenwich, a very
the
station.
attractive
is
village,
occupying
;
finely-
wooded
centuries
north
Its
antiquity
unquestionable
for,
two
in
and a quarter ago,

at
it
was designated
by the
Dutch-English
Commission,
convention
Hartford, as the western limit of the province of Connecticut.

is
The
princi-
pal lion of the region
the famous declivity
down which
fire
the gallant Putnam, of Revoluof a pursuing troop of

flight,"
tionary fame, rode
on
horseback to avoid the close

in
British
dragoons, who, not daring to follow him
his
"
break-neck
him.
were
fain to
content
Put's
themselves with sending volleys of bullets after

Hill,
is
This
in
spot,
now
called
for
Old
the
a long flight of
rude cuttings, or steps,
made
steep
hill-side
con-
venience of the people in reaching a place of worship on the summit of the
hill.
The
village
and vicinity of Stamford
will
well repay the tourist of

portfolio
ample
leisure for
delay there.
Stamford, like the vignette village of this

;
of sketches, claims
it
notable anticjuity of origin
Init,
for a little less

last
than two centuries,

it
had scarcely more

vitality,
to be proud of than a name.
Within the
forty years alone,
has exhibited
LAKE MEM PHREM AGOG

WITH ILLUSTRATIU.XS BV
J.
DOUGLAS WOODWARD.
Owl's Head Landing.
"piIE
journey
northward may be made
in
tliirty-si.x
hours, or
it
ma\-
be extended
through several weeks.

Valley, that
mysteries.
fair
tl,c metropolis divides the Connecticut reach of glistening stream and forest dell leading, beyond into mountain
The
route
from
Nature
\vears her bridal
robes, softly colored, fragrant,
and bright-
452
" First a lake,
Tinted with sunset
;
next,
;
the \\avy hues
Of
the fai-reachins; hills

lifting
and yet more
far,
Monadnoek
Ilis rosy
from
his night of pines
forehead to the evening star."

cit\'
\\)u
may
start
tint
from your
home
for
Memphremagog
direct
but, in such
path-wa)- as leads through the
valley,
you
will
linger,
inhaling the
l)reath
of the daisylife
scented
iields,
resting the wearied
mind with
on
the tranquil sentiment of the Arcadian
that dreams in the brook-side villages

the\- t)ppress
\'our
way.
Grander scenes there ma}'
be, but
and
tire
us,
and we come back to the Connecticut Valley year

it
after year,
toil
loving
it
the more, and deriving from

city
life.
the
solace
that
empowers us
a
for
renewed
at the treadmill of
Loitering in
fit
these
pastures
to
while,
its
we
arrive at the foot
of
Lake Memphremagog
in a
state of
mind
appreciate
beauties, not so
drowsy
at
and fagged-out as we should be had our journey been unbroken.

little
We
disembark
of a
the
Vermont town
;
of
Newport
submit
ourselves
to
the
regimen
fashionable
hotel
sleep well,
and dream of peace.
The morning breaks on

;
a bracing
is
day
in
the
season of Nature's most gorgeous transformation

the richest hues
habitual
;
the
autumn
foliage
crowned with
that
is
our fellow-tourists
features,
have
less
of the jaded
are
expression
almost
on
their
and so
all
circumstances
propitious for our voyage over
the lake.
Some
opinion
;
people
it
tell
us that
it
rivals
Lake George, but
this
admits
of difference
of
yet
is
almost impossible that there should be any thing more picturesque, in
the exact sense of that word, than this beautiful expanse with the
awkward name.
It
is
overshadowed by mountains and bordered by dense

point
it
forests
and grassy reaches.

It
is
At one
long
is
in
Lower Canada, and
at
another in Northern Vermont.

it
thirty miles
and two miles wide; the basin that holds

from
its
is
deep and narrow; numerous islands spring

size, dart
depths,
where speckled
trout, of
enormous
and glimmer.
These things
are imjiarted to us
by an old resident, a freckled, long-faced, discoursive down-easter, as

the
our white steamer leaves her wharf near the hotel and speeds toward
the lake.
other end
of
There
is
one object already
in
sight that
we have been
instructed not to miss

in
the
it
Owl's Head, a mountain surpassing others around the lake

yet
form and
size.
But
is
twelve miles
distant,
and
in the
mean time our
eyes and binocular glasses are
attracted by
many
other enchantments that the shore sets forth.
Here
is
a narrow cape jutting out, the
shimmering
ripples
tossing
in
play around;
and yonder the land inclines into two bays, one of them sheltering the boats of some
lazy boys,
who
are stretched
on the thwarts, with

:
their
vagabond
it is
faces raised to the un-
clouded sun.
The
shore
varies in character
rolling, girt
for a mile
high and craggy, and then
the banks are low
and
by a
surface,
belt
of yellow sand.
The deep water
readily
sky.
fair
imprints the colors on
its
is
smooth
and duplicates the forms of earth on arc the Twin

Sisters,
and
Past Indian Point there
a small village, and farther
two
LAKE MEMPHREMACOG, SOUTH FROM OWL'S HEAD.
454
islands, iliickhantl
wooded with
a
yrowth
of evertrrcciis.
a
Beyond wc
garden
little
see
anollicr
\illage,
aei'cs.
soon wc arc abreast of Province Island,

is
cultivated
of one
Inuidred
Nearer. the eastern shore

groves,
Tca-'fahlc Island, a
pleasant
charming-
spot with
many
eedai-
whence cometh
the
laughter
of a
picnic-i)arty,
whose
fancifully-painted
rowboats are moored to a
little jetty.
Now
paintetl,
we
bid farewell to our native heath,

left
and enter British waters, with British
soil
to the right
and to the
in
of
us.
There are many farm-houses on the banks, whiteIt

is
and dazzling
the sunlight.
that
national duty for those of us

in
who
are free-
born Americans to observe

uncared
for,
the
houses
the Canadian territory are slovenly

thrift
and
without the evidences of prosperity and

soil.
that appear
in
those situated
in
on our own
beauty.
But
let
us confess that the scenery of the lake

its
does not diminish
There
are
no marsh-lands near
shore,
and no stagnant pools.
The banks
is
are
invariablv picturesque, almost invariably fertile and under cultivation.

Island, so
Here
Whetstone
named by some
enterprising Yankees,
who used
the stone found in the neighthat
borhood
ers,
for axe-grinding, until her majesty's
government decided
our course
is
they were trespassa
and drove them away.
little
farther in
lies
Magoon's Point,
legend.
of
grassy
slope
coming
to the water's edge
and yonder
a cavern with a
all
Perhaps you
who have
but
in
seen so
many
its
caverns with legends begin to regard
them with suspicion;

secreted
this
one and
legend are veritable.
Some marauders
treasure-chest
it.
have
of
somewhere
the innermost recesses of one of
the rocks a
immense
value, stolen
from a
Roman
Catholic cathedral.
There
sharp
is
no doubt about
The
freckled, long-faced
down-easter has seen, with his
own
eyes,
!
two massive gold candlesticks
that
were
found within a yard or two of the entrance
We
are fast nearing Owl's
Head.
The
boat
winds
in
and out between the cedarbreezy day.
robed islands, and the golden haze vanishes into the clear and
land during the journey
We
do not
its
down
the lake, but pass Owl's Head, with only a gliinpse at
magnificent height.
We
also speed
by
Round
Island, cap-like in shape;
Minnow
Island,
the most famous fishing-place, where
some
anglers are
now
stationed underneath the leafy

his
in
boughs
and Skinner's Island, once the haunt of an intrepid smuggler, who snapped
face
fingers in the
of custom-house
officers,
and
whose audacity has been chronicled

is
many
rhymed
story.
North of Skinner's Cave
Long
place
Island, covering
an area
of
about a square mile, with a rugged shore.

dicular,
At one
the shore
is
almost
perpen-
and on the southern
side there
is
an extraordinary granite bowlder, balanced on
a natural pedestal,
named Balance Rock.

in
Hereabout, too, are the
villas
of
some wealthy
Montreal merchants, enclosed

Owl's
sage
to
is
magnificent parks on the banks.

is
Head
the
is
the most prominent mountain, and
cone-shaped.
that
But,
idW
in
our pas-
head
of
the
lake,
we
see
other
heights
do not
far
below
it.
Here
Mount
Elephantus,
now
faintly
resembling an elephant's back, afterward chang-
ing, as
we proceed
farther north, into a horseshoe form.
The water deepens
soundings
?:i*iiiiiiis^
LAKE MEMPH REM AGOG, NORTH FROM OWL'S HEAD.
450
feet
show three hunched

edge.
near GihraUar Point, where

tlu>
the
rocks
are
sheer to the water's
The sun wanes toward

not
west, and the
wind grows keener.

a
Yonder
which
is
Mount
Magog,
Oxford,
unhke Owl's
Head; and
the
foot
here
is
landing, toward
our steamer's
is
prow
and
inclines.
We
we
are
at
of the
lake.
This drowsv
little
town
attracts few of us ashore.

us,
crowd of gajiing inhabitants

into
are
a
on the wharf to welfeeble but well-mean-
come
and, as
turn
down
the lake again, they break
ing cheer.
at the
The
night comes on, and
we
haul up and
go
to sleep in a comfortable hotel
base of the mountains.
In the morning
condition, overarched
birds swells
we ascend Owl's Head.

by pines and
;
The path-way from

by pleasant
flee
the
hotel
is
in
good
of
cedars, bordered
fields.
A
as
chorus
through the thickets

filled
a few
brown
wild
-
squirrels
before
us
ferns.
we
advance.
The
air is
with
the
fragrance
of
flowers,
mosses,
and
sun,
Occasionally,
a
through the green curtain that shelters us from

of the untroubled, azure sky.
sheltered during
a
the
is
mounting
we
catch
glimpse
On
the
;
way
there
a shelving rock,
farther,
under which we are

a
passing shower
and, proceeding
we
reach
mass of
stone,
plumed with
ferns,
and covered on the

as rewards
sides with a velvety moss.
The summit
reached,
we have such
end,
its
view
our
toil.
Looking
south,
we
see the lake
from end to
north, the
lakes,
islands
and
villages, the
near rivers flashing in the sunlight.

;
Looking
picture
expands into other beauties and mountains.
and, to
the
east
and west, there are more

into
plains, islands,
The summit
a year a
itself is
riven
four peaks, silent ravines
intervening between them.

face of the
"
Once
lodge
of
freemasons meets here, and, on the
Mountain Mystery,"
are written
some
cabalistic signs of the order.
Mount Eleph.mtus, from
the
Lake Steamer.
THE MOHAWK, ALBANY, AND TROY.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
I!Y
MESSRS.
KENN AND WOODWARD.
'3i
''(';*^:v<yif,'"/7
THERE
has
for for
is
part
of
New -York
to
State around which the spell of the
pastoral ages
surely
been
thrown, and which

accoimt.
îvcs to
it
sentiment
of extreme
hftx'
antiquity
are
all
which which
history
refuses
round
two hundred
responsible;
if
and
years
the
Muse
is
of
History
considers
herself
and
yet,
tinoughout
this region, there

o-lided
an atmosphere of peace
and
and
quiet, as
siieep
a
leons of
at
happy years had

the
fat
away
since
first
man
is
led
cows
to
orra/.e
to
nihhle
pastures.
This
pastoral
country
the vallev
<>f
the
Mohawk,
river
whose
true
Indian designa-
458
PIC TURRSOUli
AMERICA.
tinn
is
unknown, hut
has
which
the
preserved
name
of the abo-
rigines
wlio
banlvS.
dwelt
upon
its
The Mohawk
es in
ris-
Oneida County,
twenty
miles
;
about
north of
southeast
falling
Rome
and
flows
east,
into the
after
Hudstretch
son,
of
one hundred
miles,
and
ten
thirty-five
miles
It
is
above
but
Albany.
a
its
petty
origin,
stream near
nor
is
it
fed
by im-
portant tributaries until
it
has passed
of
Utica.
It
the
is
city
clear that the
impetus
of
the
city
was not
river,
derived from the

iuit
from
;
the
Erie
Canal
are
for
the streets
in
all
built
the
latis
proximity
ter,
of the
and the former
outside of the
together.
placidly
ling very
It
town
al-
meanders
travel-
past,
slowly, and
with
more turns and

than
ri\er
bends
that
in
fa-
mous
Minor
phon
ized,
Asia
which
has
Xeno-
immortal-
and from which
THE MOHAWK, ALBANY, AXD IRQ)

we
But,
lects
459
get. the
word
the
meander.
-fA^
A.f->J^-,
though
it,
town negdo
are
the
farms
not
long,
'i^''
and on
tranquil
every side
meadows,
that
studded
with
trees
mount
edge
up
with
from
a
the
water's
most gradual
ascent.
still
The
more
Erie Canal, going
slowly
than
is
the
placid
Moit
hawk,
on one
side of
and the puffing, panting locomotives

of the
New - York
Beyond
hills,
Central Railroad go shrieking

past
on the
other.
rise
the
meadows
sides
gentle
thick
whose
trees
in
are
with
that
glance and gleam

as the
frolic-
the sunlight
some winds
per
the
close
display
the
upof
and
the
lower sides
cattle
leaves.
The
graze
the
to
the
;
river,
near
bulrushes
and the sheep feed

is
higher up, where the grass

shorter
and
less
rank.
All
kinds of birds that love the

fat
soil
worms
flit
of the rich pastoral
from
bush
to
bush,
or perch of the
upon the tame backs

or
cows,
of
even
upon
the
horns
some
dignified
old ram.
And
the river goes
murmuring on
through
this
scene of quiet happiness until

it
comes
to
place
where
the
Adirondack
thrown out
rocks,
Mountains
a
line
have
of here
skirmishing
and
46o
the
tranciuillity
It
PICTURESQlli
of the
AM URICA.
al.iupt
ot
Mohawk
between
is
hrouuhl to an
the
the
coiirliision.
Tliis
in
is
at
Little
Falls.
must
he
confessed
that
skirmishers
tlu'
mountains,
jiursuance of
the
etenial
war waêd
and
roeks
for
and
the
the plaee
rivers,
is
have
here
made
with
most
rocks.
tremendous
determined
onslaught,
literally
heaped
Thev
are
everywhere cropping- up between

hills,
the
houses, over the roofs, in the gardens;
bursting out of the sides of the green
that here
become
really
mountains; and
start-
ing
up
in
the
bed
of
the
river
feet,
in
the
most
i)erplexing
effort
manner.
in
The
small
river
falls,
here
makes
a descent of
over forty
accomplishing the
three
which
have been turned to great

to a great
profit
by the people of the town, for they furnish water-power
many
factories.
These, for the most part, are

first
fall
;
upon
the island which springs
up
in
the river
below the
and
this island
is
perhaps the rockiest part
of the
whole settlement.
at the
The
steep
Erie Canal runs through a channel blasted out of the solid rock
hill,
foot of
which
rises
on
the
east side of
the river, and
is
called the
RoUaway.
On
past
the
other
side
rises
another
hill,
not so
precipitous, but
higher, and
terraced
in
upward with grand, curving

times.
It
lines, that
show
clearly the erosive
power of the
it
Mohawk
had
its
turbulent youth, also;
and the day was when
swept these
hills
with a fierce current that laughed at such puny obstacles.

ward, and sings with a pleased
of
its
Now
it
glides
peacefully onsip
murmur
to the
fat
cattle,
and the impudent birds that
waters and toss their heads half disdainfully.

are witnesses
still
But there
here
is
extant of what the waters did in the remote past

its
for
Profile
Rock, where the hard stone has been so mauled, and had
fair
stratification
so handled, that the very
likeness to a
human
strain
profile
so,
is
has
been washed
out.
That
towns-
tow-path, wiiere
the
canal-horses
tug
and
the favorite drive of the

drive,
people, and, indeed, the
good
folks
have nowhere
else
to
being
is
circumvented
and
hemmed
tions
ness,"
in
by their rocky
place
to
;
girdle.
Accordingly, the Profile
Rock
one of the
"
institu-
of the
refuse
and the stranger within the gates who should, out of pure
cussed-
see
any resemblance to the human visage, would be considered very

it.
impolite, to say the least of

esting.
The view along
the canal tow-path
is
exceedingly inter-
The
fine
side of the
Rollaway runs along the canal

pines;
for several miles,
and
is
clothed
with
growth of trees stately, dark

bending aspens, here and
white beeches, with gleaming, silvery

the other side
is
trunks;
and
there.
On
the
Mohawk, once
rocks,
more
united, for the rocky island terminates at the
end of the town.

in
The
how-
ever, continue;
and, though
of no height, are strangely varied
shape, and
beautifully
mineled with bosky shrubs and thick bushes, waving grasses and delicate
gradually the Rollaway dwindles to a bank, and the rocks to pebbles
;
harebells.
But
and, after the Susis
pension Bridge
is
passed, the
to
Mohawk
is
itself again,
and the pastoral era
renewêd.
From
It
is
this point
Schenectady may be termed the heart of the

offers the
Mohawk
Valley.
difficult
to say
which
most picturesque and
pleasing view
the
valley of
THE MOHAWK. ALBANY.

pushing,
the
bustling,
for
A. YD
TROY.
463
ever
spheres
on
of of
lookout
for
action,
possibilities
is
enterprise
there
of
someen-
thing
here
peaceful
jovment which
into the heart.
place,
sinks
deep
It is a restful
emphatically.
Hence
we cannot
we
find
be surprised
when
the
par-
Schenectady,
this
capital
of
region,
quiet,
;
taking of this
ergetic
citv
unenthis
character
this,
and
in
has
also,
com-
mon
that
with
it
the
surroundings,
appears
really
it
is.
much
older
than
it
Its lovers
and
for
it
has
title
many
claim
This
the
in
of the oldest
State.
city
the
claim rests entirely upon the

date of
the
first
settlement
of Albany, which
clare to
1
some
dein
;
have taken place

others
is
6 14,
and
in
1623
but there
some confusion
matter,
about
there
the
because
a time
was undeniablv
the
when
both
Indians
called
Skannoghtada,
"
which
the
means
plains."
town
across
However
that ma\it
be, in those
is
remote times
certain
that
Schenectady
proper was more flourishing
than Albany.
It
was
at the
head
of
the
rich
Mohawk
j)roducc
Valley, and did an inmicnse
business
in
dairv
464
PICTl \RF.SOUE AMERICA.

nnd Indian
dians
peltries.
The
Inin
seem
to
I
have lived
he
harmony wilh
tlers
Duleh
setit
for
many
until
years,
and
was not
suddenly
1690 that they

enemies.
became
On
was
this
occasion, the
whole
souls,
population,
save
;
sixty
annihilated
and
the
fire.
town was destroyed by

It
was burned again

gives
it
in
1748,
which
toiy
;
quite
his-
and the most astonishit

is,
ing thing about
that
it
looks as
isting
for
if
it
had
been ex-
untold generations.
at
The Mohawk,
is
this
point,
broad
and
deep,
and the
old
it
wooden bridge
a
that spans
;
is
pretty long one
for
the stream has been recruited
by
several
it
large
tributaries
city of
since
swept by the
the
Utica,
chief contribution
coming from the West Kanahta
Creek,
which,
the
after
dashing
beautiful
down
Trenton
wildly-
Falls, glides
peaceably
placid
enough
of
into
the
bosom
the
its
Mopast
in
hawk, and remembers

furious
excitement
only
dreams.
Beyond Schenectady
river
the
sweeps on with
from
its
majesty
obtained
increased
is
volume, but the country

so
soil
not
pasttjral
is
as
.
it
was.
tlic
The
are
siiah
and
hills
THE MOHAWK, ALBANY, AND TROY

^^^'..,
465
Cohoes
Falls.
low.
At Cohoes
it
is,
there
is
a grreat
in
fall
about a mile above the

a
falls,
the river, broad and
deep as
has been
hemmed
York.
by
dam, and
a o;reat portion of its waters

is
drawn
off
It
by a water-power company.
is
The
little
town of Cohoes
the
entirely manufacturing.
the
Lowell of
New
Here
are
great
Harmony
Cotton-Mills;
and
here,
also, arc
falls
some twenty-five
Cohoes
are
woollen-mills, besides paper-factories and other industries.

close
tlic
The
of
quite
to
the
in
Harmony
rear of
Mills
and a capital view can be

mills, or
obtained of them,
eitlicr
from
bank
one of the
from an island
in
466
the liver, at
PICTLRESOUE AMJiRICA.
ilistanee
l)elo\v.
liie
some
Ww
falls
nuieh depends
thi'
\\\w\\
\\\v
st'ason of
traveller.
tails
the
In
year
the
as
regards
tlie
iinpn-ssion
is
wiiieh
make upon
hi-nee
mind
part
of a
dry
a
season
series
there
hut
little
water, and In the

earl\'
the
u])i>er
is
of the
appears
like
of grand
rapids.
feet.
sunnner there
one tremendous deseent of water,

are
falling
over sevênty
with tiark pines
The hanks on
the sunnnit, and
cither side
high and shaly, crowned genstratification, as

if
erallv
at
showing, below, a diagonal
they had been upheaved.
Below
the
falls
the river
city of
is
divided by a green island, the favorite resort of picnickers
from the neighboring

metals, and
Troy.
in
This
tall
is
a great
manufacturing centre,
forth
esi)ecially
of
this
therefore
abounding
chimneys vomiting
black smoke. dwell

is
For
u])on
that
reason
the
inhabitants,
river,
who
love
is
to
call
themselves Trojans, prefer to

It
the the
other side of the

junction of the
which
only a mile or so from Cohoes.
here
Mohawk
and the
Hudson
takes place, between
East and
West Troy.
There
tral
is
here, also, a large island,
on which the Troy Bridge

is
finds a support for its cen-
iârt.
The view
here of the bustling place
inspiriting,
and makes one as eager to
be up and doing as the pastoral scenes
of the
Mohawk
Valley
made
us
wish
to
at
live
and
die
shepherds.
Troy
is
a city of
some
fifty
thousand inhabitants, situated
the
mouth
above
of
Poestenkill Creek, six miles above Albany, and a hundred and fifty-one miles
active, enterprising,
New York an
and bustling
city.
Albany, which
now numbers
over seventy
thousand
souls within
its
borders,
It
is
is
great railroad centre, and the main point of departure for
Western
;
travellers.
its
the
terminus of nearly
is
all
the great steamboat lines of the
Hudson
but
is
chief imjjortance
that of being the capital of the great
Empire
State.
Albany
the oldest settlement

in
in
the
original
thirteen
colonies, except
in
Jamestown, Virginia.
at
Henry Hudson,
is
the
yacht
Half-Moon, moored
September, 1609,
point which
now
in
Broadway,
Albany.
three
Several Dutch navigators ascended the river to the same place during the next
four
or
years;
is
and
in
16 14 the
Dutch
built the
first
fort
on an island below the
present
of the
city,
wdiich
hence called Castle
Islantl.
In
161 7 a fort
was
built at the
mouth
Normanskill
and
in
1628 another was erected near the present steamboat-landcity,
ing in the south
jiart
of the
and named Fort Orange.
quadrangular
Street,
fort,
called
St.
Fort Frederick, was

Peter's
afterward
built
on the high ground, now State
between
Church and the Geological

Streets to the river.
Hall, with lines of palisades extending
down Steuben
after
and
Hudson
These
fortifications
were
demolished soon
the
Revolution.
until
The
place
was
called,
by the Dutch,
possession
New
of
Orange, and
English, in
retaincel that
name
the
whole province
passed
into
the
of
1664,
when
New
Orange was changed
to Albany, in
honor of the
Duke
York and Albany,
aftenvard
James
first
II.
In
1686 Albany City was incorporated
by patent.
Peter Schuyler was the
mayor.
The Schuyler
family possessed the good-will of the Indians to such a degree
that,
while other settlements were desolated by Indian forays, Albany was never attacked
WATER-FALLS AT CAYUGA LAKE

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS KY
J.
DOUGLAS WOODWARD.
AYUGA
in
tral
LAKE,
the western cen-
part
is
of
New -York
for
State,
noted
great
number of highly
and
beautiful
at
pictu-
resque
water-falls,
found
mainly
the
head,
or
southern extremity, of the lake,

in
the
vicinity
of the
town of
for
its
Ithaca, fimous, not
onlv
surrounding scener}^ but for

distinguished
its
Cornell University.
The head
four
level
try,
of
Cayuga
feet
lies
nearlv the
hundred
of
below
the
a
surrounding coun-
while
this
remarkable
is
feature
of
elevation
number
an
of
ravines
and gorges, with
almost endless succession of water-falls,
formed
by the
drain
]irimary
Taghanic
Falls.
streams which
the
middle
478
portion of the of
tlie
northern
slope of the water-shed
lirsl
li\
between Chesapeake Bay and

l)ein<i'
tlie
lujulf
St.
Lawrenee, their
jtoint
of rendezvous
Cayuga Lake.
In
summer,
the ravines are frequented

increase
tea
the residents of near towns, and by visitors
whose numbers
year by year, as the fame of the wild, eool retreats spreads abroad.
visitor
An
after-
walk takes the
to
Ithaca
from
crowded
ravines
streets
into
the
the
most
rare
beautiful
of
in
Nature's
sanctuaries.
In winter, also, the
are
visited, for
spectacle
ice-work which forms about the cataracts.
The most
northerly of those ravines which pass through the city

are
is
Fall
Creek, in
walls of
which, within a mile, there

the
eight
falls,
all
of
them exceedingly
fine.
The
chasm
are abrupt
and high, fringed with a dusky growth of

it
forest-trees.
pathway
was worked through

are
some time
ago,
and
its
sombre depths and reverberating waters

and endurance necessary to follow the
feet
now
accessible to
all
who have
falls
the
courage
rugged way.
Four of the
range from sixty to thirty

fifty
in
height, while
fifth,
Ithaca Fall, attains one hundred and
feet.
In
the
its
latter
the foaming torrent leaps

is
grandly between the fractured rock.
Several times
silvery
headway
from
the
broken by projections,
and
narrow courses lead threads of the

arountl
water
main channel into the

Fall,
Fall.
foliage that closes
Not
far
all.
from here we also find the Triple

It
which
is,
to
our
mind, the most beautiful of

over the rock
Ithaca Fall.
in
should be
named Bridal-Veil
and
is
The water
pours
in the
threads, as in a veil of gauze,

jieople
not woven into a mass, as

region
called
But the
who had
in
in
charge the nomenclature of this
have avoided romance, and named the places
a matter-of-fact fashion.
it
They have
again
Triple Fall thus because the stream leaps thrice before

level
ripples
it
forward
on the
first
over one rock, bubbling
on a ledge
all.
while before
descends to the next,
and then taking the grandest leap o^

Before
going
farther,
it
is
worth our while to examine some curious formations
in
the vicinity, which
somewhat remind us of the eroded sandstones of Monument Park,

is
Colorado.
high,
Here
a
sort
its
Tower Rock,
of
perfect
columnar
formation,
about
lake
thirty-six
feet
with
groove
across
the
top.
The water
of the
stretches
in
out
smoothly from
the
foot,
and the banks around are rocky and jagged, hidden
part
by
abundant
is
foliage.
in
It
is
still
more extraordinary monument of Nature's inexhaustible

its
whims
found
Castle Rock, wdiich has a certain regularity of form, despite

consists of a massive
W'all,
un-
usual character.
of
its
with a magnificent, arched door-way.
One
peculiarities
that the surface
is
torn and fractured, and in the deep seams formed
some
trees
and shrubs are living a precarious existence.

is
In the arch of the door-way,

trees,
for instance, there
deep
in
slit,
whence spring two sturdy

exposed
situation.
is
their
slender
trunks
appearing bleak and lonely
their
About
former, but
a mile
and a half south of Fall Creek

delicate
Cascadilla
Creek, smaller than the

ravines,
its
more
and harmonious
babble, the
in
its
scenery.
is
Between the two

on
a
fair
chimes
mingling with
their
university
situated,
expanse, nearly
THE R O CK
ground was divided into three
the
ciistricts,
MO i 'X
Park, and
7\- 1
LVS.
including the
district
487 Middle Park,

the
the northern district

the
middle
In
district
including
the
South
southern
as
San-Luis
in
Park.
these
its
three
districts
the range reveals
itself
one of the grandest
the
world, reaching
greatest elevations, and
comprising one of the most interesting areas
Gray's
Peak.
on the continent.
As
unscientific persons,
we owe
arc
Professor
all
Hayden
a debt of gratitude
for reassuring us that
the
Rocky Mountains
I
our forefathers thought them, and

saz'a;//s
not mythical
in
their splendors.
Tow much more the

tliat
owe
iiim,
we
in
will
not
venture to
ing, so
t(j
sav.
We
ought to add, however,
he was singularly fortunate
unearth-
si)eak, the
most representative scenery, as the
photographs made
attest;
and
488
present
or
prospective
travellers
eannot
do
liclter
than
follow in
the
footsteps of his
expedition, as
we mean
to
do
in
this article. a
Early camjied
sort
in
in
May we
Estes
are far north, with
detachment
of the
is
Hayden
in
expedition, en-
the
Park, or
\'allc\-.
Park, hy the-way,
used
is
these
regions as a
as
of variation on the sweeter-sounding word.

tents.
The
night
deej)ening
we
]iitch
our
We
the
graceful
are
at
the
-line
base
of
Long's
Peak
about
fade
half-way
between
its
Denver
Citv and
line
boundary
of
the
Wyoming and
last
;
ean only dimly see
elear-eut out-
and
crests,
as
hues
of
retire
sunset
and
depart.
Supper
so
eon-
soles us
after
our long day's march

merry.
In
we
to our tents, but are

little
not
exhausted
that
we cannot make
"in
this
lonely
valley,
with
awful
ehasiiis
and
hills
around,
wilderness of glacier creation, scantily robed with dusky pine and hemlock,
the hearty voice of our expedition breaks

night.
many slumbering
The
echoes
in
the
chilly spring
void
is
filled.
A
is
man on
the heights, looking into the valley, would
be
conitself
scious of a change in the sentiment of the scene.

into
presence of humanity infuses
the inanimate.
It
so
all
through the region.

plain,
Alone, we survey the magnificent

spirit, as
reaches
grave.
of mountain,
hill-side,
and
with
subdued
on
the
brink
of a
Our sympathies
are
find vent, but not in hysterical adulation.
Our admiration and

It
wonder
inore
mingled with a degree of awe that restrains expression.

to
woidd be much
easy
go
into
ecstasies
over the
home-like view from

as high,
the
summit of Mount
Washington than over peaks

There
are brightness
that are
more than twice
and incomparably grander.
and
life,
smooth pastures and
pretty houses,
on the
New-England
heart of
mountain.
is
Out
;
here there are waste, ruggedness, and sombre colors.
The
man
not
felt
wx^
gaze
in
at
the
varied
forms,
all
of
them massive, most of them

of the
squatter,
beautiful,
feeling ourselves
a
set
strange
in
world.
The shabby hut

an
and straggling
tents,
mining-camp, deep
erected
ravine, are
inexpressible relief;
and so our white

of
on the
slopes,
fertile
acres
of the
Estes
Park, throw a glearn
warmth among
the
snowy
and impart to the scene that something without which the noblest country
is
appears dreary, and awakens whatever latent grief there
in
our nature.
us.
Betimes
in
the
morning we
are astir,
in
and the
front
full
glory of the \icw bursts ujion

its
The peak
is
the
most prominent
it
the
range, soaring higher than
brothers
earl\-
around; and we have seen
as
we approached from
ascent
;
the plains.
It
is
yet too
in
the season for us to attempt
the
the
snow
lies
more than half-wav down
but
from
sible.
this little valley,
where our tents

gentle
are pitched,
we have one
for
of the finest views posdistance

;
The
slopes
are
and almost
in
unbroken
considerable
a
but,
reaching higher, they terminate

light.
sharp, serrated
lines,
edged with
it
ribbon
of silver
The snow
is
not distributed evenly.

Ijy
In
some
places
lies
thick,
and others are
only partly covered
streaky, maji-like patches, revealing the lieav\' color of the
ground
and rock beneath.
range of
foot-hills of
is
elumsv contour leads the wav to the peaks

and Wdodcd.
It
which mount Ix-hind them.
The innk
a lovelv snot, sheltered, fertile,
PARK. ERODED SANDSTONES, MONUMENT
494 Foremost
that
in
PICTL-RIuSOfE AMERICA.
the view are
the
twin
i)eaks,
Gray's ami Torrey's

of
pinnaeles,
iuit,
in
vast
area
seems
in
limitless,
there
are
suecessive
rows
it,
some
of
them
entirely
wrapped
ino;
everlasting snow, others palehed with
some ahrnpl and
pointed, others reach-
their climax
bv
soft
curves and gradations that are almost imjjerceptible.
We
scene,
feet
are
on
the crest of a continent

is
on
the
brink
resist
oi that
New World
called
a
which Agassiz has told us

forth
the Old.
The man who could

readers,
the
emotion
is
by the
is
not
among our
the very
of snow,
we
sincerely hope.
or,
There
sort
of enclosure
some
beneath
summit of Gray's Peak,

dotted
to speak
more
exactly, a valley surrounded by walls
by occasional bowlders, and sparsely co\'ered with dwarfed vegetation.

light
Here we encamp and
our
tires,
and
smoke our
pipes, while
our minds are
trance over the superb reach before us.
Not very many

plains,
in
years ago
it
was
common
thing to
find a deserted
far off.
wagon on
is
the
with some skeleton

case, the tarpaulin
men and two
skeleton horses not

"
story
told that,
one
was inscribed with the words

to the immigrants,
Pike's
Peak
or Bust."
it,
Pike's
Peak was then an El Dorado

fell
who,
in
adventurously seeking
often
it
victims on the gore-stained ground of the Sioux

visible
Indians.
star
Foremost
beacon
in the range,
was the most

approaching
call,
from
the
plains,
and was as a
east.
or
are
to
the
travellers
the
mountains
at
from
the
Thither
we
now bound,
and the
destined
of
to
on
the
way,
the
lie
Chicago
Lakes,
of
Monument
Park,
still
Garden
the
Gods.
Chicaeo
Lakes
at the foot
Mount
Rosalie,
farther south,
at
and are the

of
the tim-
source of Chicago Creek.

ber-line,
They
in
are high
upon the mountain,
the
verge
and that shown
Mr. Moran's picture has an

sea.
elevation of
nearly twelve thou-
sand feet above the level of the

in
Mount
Rosalie, ridged with snow, and very rugged
appearance,
terminates
as
two
thousand
two
the
of
hundred
feet
is
higher.
Another
lake,
as
smooth and lovely
this,
and of about
same
silver,
size,
found near by, and twelve

vicinity.
more
are
scattered, like
is
so
many
patches
in
the
The water comes

Trout are abunfrom George-
from the snow, and

dant
town.
It
is
cool and refreshing on the hottest

allure
is
summer
days.
in
the streams, and
many
travellers
over a terribly bad
road
Monument Park
filled
probably more familiar to you than other points in our route.
with
fantastic
groups
of
eroded
sandstone, perhaps
the
most unique
m
If
the
Western country, where there

should
are so
many
evidences of Nature's curious whims.

in
one
all
imagine a great number of gigantic sugar-loaves, quite irregular

in
shape, but
showincr the tapering form, varving
height from six feet to nearly

in
fifty,
with each
hat,
loat
capped
by a dark,
flat
stone, not
unlike
in
shape to
college-student's
he would
have a very clear idea of the columns
Monument
Park.
They
is
are for the
most part
witle,
ranged along the low

here
hills
on each
out
in
side' of
the park, which
probably a mile
little
but
and there one

the
hills,
stands
the open plain.

are
On
is
one or two
knolls, apart
eflect
from
numbers of these columns
grouped, producing
stone
the
exact
color.
ot
cemeteries with their white-marble columns.
The
very light
w
Q
u
I
496
riL fi
KJiSQUE AMERICA.
Once
way,
inuiv
still
\vc
llir
arc
on
our
and
lin<>;cr
in
mountains.
the
Wc
while
in
is
Garden
miles
of the
Gods, which
live
northwest of Colorado Springs, as

)ôu will see
by referring to a map,
that
amonsT the magnificent forms

in
some
places
resemble those
in
we
have
Park.
cliffs,
already
seen
are
Monument
There
too
;
some prominent
in-
but they are not so

as
teresting
seen,
strata,
others
are
that
we have
horizontal
and
simjjly
thrown by some convulsion

perpendicular position.
into
At
the "gateway"
we
are
between two
precipitous walls of sandstone,
two
hundred
dred and
ing afar
hill,
feet ajiart,
fifty
is
and three hunhigh.

-
feet
Stretch-
gently
sloping footthe
dis-
and,
beyond
a
that, in
tance,
faint
we have
snow
scene
-
glimpse
of
Pike's
of the
line
Peak.
The The
is
strangely impressive.
walls
form
almost an amphipatch of level

there
is
theatre, enclosing a
earth.
In the foreground
consisting
rocks,
into
an
embankment
of ap-
parently
detached
some of
them
distorted
mushroom-
shape, and others secreting shallow
pools
of
water
in
their
is
darkling
hollows.
The
;
foliage
scarce and
deciduous
rock
walls
gloomily
pathetic.
X
the
else-
rises
midwa\the
the
between
at
in
gateway,
and
there
where
garden
that
are
monumental forms
of the
valley of
remind us
the
Wllowstone.
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.
497
-i^^.C
Teocalli Mountain.
Pike's
Peak, seen
from
the walls,
is
about ten miles

It
off.
It
forms, with
its
si)iirs,
the
southeastern
boundary of the South Park.

trail
offers
no great
difliculties in
the ascent,
and a good
for horses has
been made to
the summit, where an
"Old
Probabilities"
has stationed an officer to forecast the
coming storms.
Now we
tion,
bear away to Fairplay, where
we
join the principal division ot

tlie
llic
expedi-
and thence
we
visit
together
Mount
Lincoln, Western Pass,

cross
'{"win
Lakes, and
into
other points in the valley of the Arkansas;

the Elk ALjuntains
;
the
National
its
or
Mother range
proceed up
tlie
Arkansas and beyond

our space, not
head-waters to the
Mount At
of the Holy Cross.
We
arc
exhausting
the
our subject, and

in
we can only
itinerary.
describe at length a few spots in
magnificent country included
our
498
the beginning
Lincoln, and
this
we spoke about Mount
the
glorious
view obtained from

l)e
its
summit.
feet
When
named, during the war,
peak was thought to

it
eighteen thousand
fourteen thou-
high, but
more
recent measurements have brought

fact,
down
to about
sand feet lower, in

has vet to
than Pike's, Gra}'s, Long's, Yale, or Harvard, the highest of which
be
determined.
But
its
summit commands points
in
region
of country
embracing nearly twentv-hve thousand square miles in extent,

ties,
the grandest natural beaulakes.
bewildering
Lincoln,
reach
of peaks, valleys, canons, rivers, and
We
J.
find, too,
on
Mount
some
lovely Alpine flowers, which
grow
in
profusion even Professor
on
the very
summit, and are
of nearly
the
every
color and
i.icked
great
fragrance.
D. Whitney,
of
delicate
who accompanied
blue-bells within
expedition,
of the
several
sweetly - smeUing
Lincoln.
bunches
little
five
feet
dome
of
Mount
all
These tender
plants are
chilled every night to
freezing,
and draw
their
nourishment
from the freshly-melted
snow.
Heretofore we have spoken

all
complainingly,
it
may
seem, of the
sombre quality of
we have
seen,
and
its
deficient
power of evoking human sympathy.
But
at
the
to go into Twin Lakes we have no more occasion for morbid brooding, but a chance The course of the pastural scenery. healthy raptures, and to admire some tender, almost
Arkansas River
mountains.
Mississippi.
is
it
southward hereabout, touching the base

continues for one hundred miles, then
of the
central chain of the
So
branching eastward toward the

valley expands,
In the lower part of the southward course the
and
is
bor-
on the west by the dered on the east by an irregular mass of low, broken hill-ranges, and Twentv miles above this point the banks are closely confined, and form
central rano-e.
a very
picturesque
gorge
still
further
larger
is
above they again expand, and here are nestled

about two and a half miles long and
size.
the beautiful
a half
Twin Lakes. The

the
a mile
and
wide
smaller about half that

;
At
the upper end they are girt by steep

hills
and rugged heights

ders.
below they are bounded by undulating

hurries
of gravel and
plain
bowl-
A
the
broad stream connects the two, and then
down
the
to join and
swell the Arkansas.

lake,
Our
of
the
illustration does not
exaggerate the chaste beauty of the ujiper

of
smaller
two.
The contour
the
surrounding
hills
is
marvellously
it
varied:
here softly curving, and
yonder soaring to an abrupt peak.
In
some things
its
waters, transports us to the western Highlands of Scotland, and, as with their

are
depths
trout.
swarming with the most

in
delicately
flavored,
the
most
spirited
least
and
largest
Sportsmen come here
considerable numbers;
and not the
charming object to be
met on the banks
is
an
absorbed, contemplative
man, seated on
some glacier-thrown
pretty wicker basket, bowlder, with his slender rod poised and bending gracefulls", and a
half hidden
in
the
in
moist grass at his
side,
ready for the gleaming
fish
that
flaunts
his
gorgeous colors
the steadily-lapping waters.
We
advance from the

in a (piiet
little
Twin Lakes
into
the
very heart
of the Rock\- Mountains,
and sojourn
valley while the working-force of the exjiedition explores the
500
neighlioring countr\'.
PIC TURESQ UE AMERICA.

Two
summits me ascended tiom our
thousand
feet
station, oni' of
ihcm
ntund
peak
of oranitr,
full
fourteen
above the
he
level
of the
sea,
and only to and tiresome

This
reached
by assiduous
scramliling\vc
over fractured rocks.

Plata.
name La
u]ilift
We
are
on
the
grandest
fessor
on the continent, Probelieves.
Whitney
The range
is
of unswerxing direction, running north
and south and

is
for
nearly a hundred miles,

into
broken
countless
feet
peaks
It
is
over twelve thousand

penetrated
merl\- sent ley
;
high.
by deep ravines, which

great glaciers
into
for-
the val-
it
is
composed
of
granite
and
point
eruptive rocks.
is
The northernmost
of the
visit
the
Mount
shall
Holy
Cross, and
that
we
soon.
Advancing
again through magnificent upland mead-
ows and
last
amphitheatres,
we come
at
to
Red-Mountain
line
Pass, so
named
from a curious
of light
half a
stain,
near the mile
summit,
a
marked
for
with
into
brilliant
crimson
the
verging
yellow
the
this,
from
oxidation
of iron in
effect
volcanic
as
material.
The
is
of
may
be
imagined,
wonder-
fulh' beautiful.
Thence we
the
traverse sev-
eral
ra\'ines in
shadow of the imenter

fresh
posing
valleys,
granite
mountains,
and contemplate
geologists
alert,
fresh wonders.
The ardent
tion,
of the
expedi-
ever
of
discover
one
day a
corals,
filled
ledge
limestone
containing
in
and
soon
we
are
region
with ent)rmous
Elk-Lake Cascade.
and surprising developmaterial.
ments of
tents
that
We
an
pitch our
near
the
base
of
immense
from
is
pyramid,
capped
with
layers
"
of
red
sandstone,
sacrifice."
which
we name
view from
Teocalli,
the
Aztec
word,
meaning
pyramid
of
The
our
camp
we
MOUNTAIN OF THE HOLY CROSS.
502
should say surpassing, could
the grandest.
Ailling into
rear,
tlie
riCTURESQUE
we ivmcmbcr
toward
AMERIC
valley
/i.
or decide which of
the
all
the beauties
wc have
is
Two
hills
incline
where we are
is
stationed, ultimately
in
each other's arms.
Iktwcen
their siioulders there
broad gap, and,
the
majestic form of the Teocalli reaches to lieaven.

the distance
In
we have
seen
two mountains which

of these
are
temporarily called
ascending.
It
is
Snow-
Mass and Black

hard road to
Pyramiii.
The
slopes
Inst
we
are
now
a terribly
travel.
The
consist
of masses
of
immense
granitic fragments, the
rock-bed from which they came appearing only occasionally.
When we
reach the crest,
we fmd
it
also
broken and
cleft
in
masses and
pillars.
Professor
Whitney ingeniously
reckons that an industrious man, with a crow-bar, could, by a week's industrious exertion,
reduce the height of the mountain one or two hundred
the
feet.
Some
of the
members
of
expedition
amuse
themselves
slopes,
by the
experiment,
toppling
over
great
It
is
fragments,
this
which thunder down the

field
and furrow the wide snow-fields below.

feature
snow-
which
is
forms
a
the
characteristic
of the
mountain
as
seen
still,
in
the distance.
There
water.
about
little
squaie
mile
of unbroken white, and, lower
down
a lake of
blue
to the
northward of Snow-Mass, the range
rises into
another yet greater

at all
mountain.
The two
are
known
to miners as
"The
Twins,"
although they are not
alike, as the provisional
names we bestowed upon them
indicate.
After mature deliberaCapitol,
tion
the
expedition
rechristen
will
them the White House and the

familiar
under which
great
distance
names we suppose they

from
here,
leadine;
be
to
future
generations.
Not
down
the
mountain from
Elk
to the
Lake,
is
jiicturesque cascade, that
finds its
way through deep gorges and canons

of
the
Init
Rio Grande.
This
is
The Mountain
mountain
in
Holy Cross
its
is
next
reached.
the
is
most celebrated
not
the region,
feet.
height,
is
which has been over-estimated,

exceedingly toilsome even
for
more than
fourteen thousand
The
ascent
inured mountaineers,
that
and
might give you an interesting chapter describing the

is
difficulties
beset
us.
There
peak
a very beautiful peculiarity in the mountain, as
its
name
shows.
the
The
j^rincipal
is
composed of
gneiss,
and the cross
fractures
of the
rock on
eastern
slope
have made two great
fissures,
which cut into one another
at right angles,
and hold their
snow
in the
form of a cross the summer long.
THE CANONS OF THE COLORADO.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THOMAS MORAN.
N
wliere
ONE
on
of the
works of Nature
Continent,
the
American
are
many
a
tilings
clone
by her
upon
scale
of grandeur
in
elsewhere
unknown,
approach
magnificence
and wonder the canons of the Colorado.
The
is,
river-system of the Colo-
rado
in
extent of area drained, the

in
second or third
the United States.

is,
The drainage
course, far
of the Mississippi
extensive,
of
more
of
the
and
is
the
drainage
Columbia
little
nearly
It
equal, or perhaps a
characteristic
greater.
all
of the Colorado
it,
that
nearly
the
into
streams which unite to form

It,
or which
How
are
confined
in
deep
the
and narrow
walls
rise
gorges, with
directly
for
walls
often
perpendicular.
Sometimes
there
is
from
pas-
the
water's
edge,
so
that
only
room between
the
sao-e of
the stream.
In other places, the bottoms of the gorges widen
out into valleys, through which roads

of arable land.
are not
may
pass
and sometimes they contain small
tracts
For the most
part, the
walls of the canons of the Colorado-River system

;
above a few hundred
feet in height
and
yet,
there
feet
are
in
more than
perpendicular
thousand
miles of canons where they rise ten or twelve hundred
cliffs.
The
the
Grand Canon, which Major Powell

globe,"
feet
is,
calls
"
the
most
at
profound
chasm
less
known on
for a distance of
over two hundred miles,
no point
than four thousand
deep.
The Green
Pacific Railroad,
River, which
is
is
familiar to every person
who
has passed over the
Union
one
of the
principal
sources
of the Colorado.
J.
The
first
successful
attempt to
reached
it
explore the Grand (\inon
was made by Major

l)oats,
W.
in
Powell, in
1S69.
lie
then by descending the Green River with
built
Chicago, and carried
by
in
rail
to Green-River Station.
He
in
accomplished the voyage of nearly a thousand miles

in
three months, one
month being occupied

the Colorado
1776,
the passage of the
Grand Canon.
lie
Fatlier
Escalante had
seen
and the map which
constructed
shows
;
clearly the point at
which
he
crossed.
Fremont and \Vhipple had seen the canon
and
504
Ives,
in
lie
liis
expedition
for
(if
1857 and
(irand
1S5CS,
saw
the
15ul,
Kanai), one
ol
its
largest
l)ranches,
whicii
inist(_)ok
the
Canon
ilselt.
pievious
to
Major Powell's voyage
of exploration, the course of a great part of the ri\er
was
as little
known
as the sources
of the Nile
and the accounts of the wonders of the Grand Caiion were held by many
and greatly exaggerated. formed
by
the junction
of the
to be rather ni\thieal,
The Colorado
eastern
river, to
is
Grand and Green Rivers

Station,
b}'
in
the
part
of
Utah.
The
tiie
distance
from
is
Green-River
four
the course
of the
miles.
the junction of
two streams,
after
hundred
railroad,
fifty-eight
and
half
The canons begin very soon
leaving
the
and
in
the
series
named
are
Flaming Gorge, Kingfisher, and Red Cations, Caiion of Lodore, Whirlpool and
Canons, Canon
of
Yampa
Desolation,
Gray.
Labyrinth,
Stillwater, Cataract,,
Narrow, Glen, and

instances,
is
Marble Canons.
cated bv the
Each has some

There
is
peculiar characteristic, which, in
most
indi-
name.
generally
no
break
in
the
walls
in
between the
different
canons, the divisions being
marked by remarkable changes

Cataract, are on
their geological
it
structure.
The canons whose names above precede

waters of the Grand.
Green River before
joins the
Labvrinth
ful
is
one of the lower canons of the Green River.
It
is
wide and beautiIndeed, from
canon, with comparativelv low walls, but perpendicular and impassable.

sixteen
Gunnison's Crossing, one hundred and
miles
above the junction of the Grand

a distance of
five
and Green, to the running out of the Grand Canon,

seven
apart,
hundred eighty-
and a half
miles, there are only
two
places,
and they are not more than a mile
where the
river
a
and
its
chasm can be
in
crossed.
At one
it
point in Labyrinth Caiion,

a
the river
biittc,
b)-
makes
long bend,
the
bow
walls
of which
sweeps around
they might
a
huge
circular
laid
for-
whose regular and perpendicular
look as though
have been
a race of giant craftsmen.
At
a distance the pile resembles
vast, turret-shajied
is
tress,
deserted and partly broken down.

of
it
This point
in
the
river
called
Bonita Bend,
and a view
has
been
drawn
in this
by Mr. Moran
from
photographs
shoal,
taken
by Major
the
Powell's partv.
plorers, for
The waters
canon
rest
are
smooth and
and
afforded
ex-
man\^ miles, a grateful
from
the toil and
danger of shooting rapids, or
making wearisome portages of the
boats.
The junction
of the
Grand and Green
Rivers
brings
together
flood
of waters
in
about equal in xolume to the flow of Niagara.
The Grand and Green meet

;
nar-
row gorge
more than two thousand
feet
deep
anti
at
this
jioint
the
canons of the
Colorado begin.
The
first
is
called
this
Cataract Canon.
It
is
about
the
forty miles
long.
The
descent of
is
the river through
canon
is
very great, and
velocity acquired by the current
soinetimes equal to the speed of the fastest railroad-train.
Great buttresses of the walls
stand out into the rushing flood at frequent intervals, turning the rapid current into boiling whirlpools, which were encountered by the adventurous boatmen with great peril and
i'ish
ing-station.
^^'-noiUa.
Jlarlwr.
5=4
PIC TURESQUE AM/iR/CA.

one luindivd
with
niPfS
and sixty
tliousand
streets,
fourteen
ni
dwellriver
nnie wards.
lie
has l)een
dammed, and
its
banks
arc the site of several imjjortant

industries.
hilly
The ground
in
is
more
than
Chicago; and Mil-
waukee,
in
some
to
])articulars,
may
claim
be
the
prettier.
large proportion of the popconsists
ulation
of
Germans,
who
give the city a distinctive
character and appearance.
The
are
vil-
Americans
like
lage,
say
that
they
of
a
the
inhabitants
all
and are
familiar
with
busiis
one another's names and

ness.
But, while the visitor
constantly
confronted
by Gerears
are
man
signs,
and
filled
his
constantly
with
German
sounds, Milwaukee people have

the
noticeable
briskness
of
manner
west.
peculiar to
the North-
The
domes,
city
turrets,
has
so
many
spires,
cupolas,
and
towers,
that
in
you
might
imagine yourself
iterranean
port,
some Medif
it
espcciall}'
happened
been
in
that
a
you had
never
jiort.
Mediterranean
is
The
the
architecture
diverse
in
extreme,
combining
styles
;
the
most widely-different
it
but
lav-
is
invariablv ornate,
plaster
statuary,
and
ishes
plaster
and
and
iron
castings,
scroll-work,
hlitiree,
without distinction,
GLANCE AT THE NORTHWEST.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS RV ALFRED
R.
WAUD.
w
deal of
SCON SIN
generallv
people
(luiet
are
about
the beauties of their
State,
and
submissively
listen
to
great
random
and
talk about lone

prairie- wastes,
hav'e not
backwoods
that people
who
been
if
there ignorantlv diffuse.
But
perchance,
when you
are
plan-
ning a
should
summer's vacation, vou

feel
weary of the more
frequented routes of travel, you
cannot do better than devote
week
that
or
longer
to
journey
pictu-
includes
many more
resque features than these back-
woods and
round
stance
;
prairie-wastes.
Go
in-
the
great
lakes,
for
break
the
voyage
at
one of the lake-ports

nitowoc,
find
sin
or
say MaSheboygan and
your way to the WisconRiver

by the Central Wis-
consin Railway.
The guide-books and

teers
gazet-
have very
little
to
sav on
the subject.
will
The most
from
that
is,
vou
that
learn
them
the
natural
feature
is
jieculiar
to
the
its
its
State
the
uniformitv of
elevation
surface,
and the
wiiich
is
shape of
neither
mountainous, nor
flat,
nor
;
hilly,
but gently undulating

river
that the
entire
Wisconsin
within
has
the
its
course
State,
and
I3K
In
Kooii
,lcii.
530
that
it
Hows
hills
centrally,
in
and enters the

are
;
Mississipjii,
on
its
eastern
border;
that
still
the
only
not
in
notable
the
State
ransê
to
the
west of the
is
river,
whieh
do
deserve the
thiekness
name
of mountains
that
woodland
it
abundant, and
with
especiall)prairie,
inercascs
near
Green
Bay,
although
is
diversified
rolling
marsh,
and
swamp.
But there
to
is
much
besides to be seen
route, or select the
little
in
this
neglected State, and
you
will
last
do well
pick
out your
own
rambling one that we
followed
autumn.
Near Kilbourn
City, a sluggish
town, about
half-way between the source and the
mouth of the Wisconsin

Paul Railroad, you
will
River, touched by the Lacrosse branch of the

find
Milwaukee and
St.
Rood's Glen, a
bit
of scenery that will vixidly recall to your

it
memory Havana and AVatkins

will
Glens, the structure of which

It
is
resembles very closely, as
be seen
in
our
artist's
sketch.
deep-set between walls of soft-looking limestone

terraces,
is
and moist
together
in
earth, fissured
and wrinkled into many ledges and
which are
so
near
some
a
parts as to almost form a cavern.
The bottom
smooth and sandy,

trees
covered with
shallow pool, which
reflects the
bright greenery of the
and grass
start
that are twisted
and interlocked into
natural arch overhead.

;
Some
leafy
boughs
out from the moss, their stalks interlaced in closest union

in
and, as they swav and
rustle
the breeze, the cool blue of the sky and

pool, with
rifts
of fleecv cloud are also mirrored in the

recesses,
silver
the
sombre green of the mossy

shades of the
grass
the
brown shadow of the

It
is
walls,
and the
lighter, fresher rest

in
and
foliage.
beautiful
spot,
where you may

the spring as
fields
it
sweet idleness for hours, listening

leaves
to
the
cadenced
trickling of
in
blends with the fluttering of the
and the chorus of birds
the
around.
not
And
less
many
In
miles from this
unheard-of city of Kilbourn

in
arc
other
scenes, not
in
picturescpie.
hills,
Barraboo County,
basin
for
the
most part walled

its
with
abrupt
It
is
reposes the Devil's Lake, a sheet of water as pretty as
name
;
is
it
repellent.
of no great extent, not
more than one and

a
a half mile in length
and
docs not
its
its
figure in the maps.

still,
But
it
is
gem
of Nature
and, in the autumn, the contrast of
emerald-green waters with the rich colors of the foliage, and the weird forms of
is
gray rocks,
ing
cliffs
inexpressibly lovely.
Its origin was,
without doubt, volcanic, the surroundfrost.
bearing evidences of the action of great heat as well as of
Round
about,
too, are
many
extraordinary forms, a description of which would
fill
long and interestis
ing chapter.
The
Devil's Door-way, of
which we give
an
illustration,
characteristic
and from
vale of
its
portals
we
obtain an excellent view of a portion of the lake, and the serene

its
Kirkwood, with
orchards, and
the vineyards
hill
that
aie
already celebrated for
their wine.
Beyond
these are wide reaches of
and
forest, thick
with a dusky growth
of spruce, pine, birch, oak, and aspen, extending to the water's edge, and abounding with
deer and other game.

ture's freaks to
Cleopatra's Needle
It
is
another of the curious monuments of Nais
which we have alluded.
an
isolated
column of
rock, nearlv sixty
A GLANCE AT THE NORTHWEST.

appearance.
533
its
score or so of thin, repressed pine-trees do their best to shield

;
barren-
ness and be friendly

lapping-
but
it
will
its
not be comforted, and

feet.
stands
out
bleakly, the
current
and eddying sadly
at
At another
point of the river the boundary rocks

together, with their several tiers
counterfeit the sterns of four or five steamboats
moored
of galleries, one
are
awl,
above another; and,

rocks
as
we approach
the
Dalles near the mouth, there

closely resembling a cobbler's
article.
two
isolated
on
the
river-bank
one
of
them
and the other
slightlv suggesting the
same unromantic
Mereabout the stream
Lone Rock, Wisconsin
River.
straggles through a desolate, wild, melancholy reach of
flat
land, with
low-lying forests of
timber around
cial
is
and the general inclination of the scenery to look

outlines
si.K
like
something
artifi-
again manifest in an opposite rock, the
of which hint at the ])addle-box
of a steamer.
In the Dalles
we
pass through
miles of enchanting beauty.

in
The word
origin,
(pronounced ddlz), which

and means "a
between
hills
has
become very common

it
the West, the
is
of
French
which
trough."
Hence
is
bestowed
on
this jiart of
river,
passes
are
of solid
limestone, from thirty to one hundred feet high.
The
fijrms
among
the most picturesque that
we have
yet seen.
Some
of the rocks rise sharply from
534
y YC"
n RESQUE AMERIC.
1.
the \va(cr, ami c.xlciul outwanl near tlnir sumniiis, so as to form a sort of shelter for tlic hixuriant grass that croi)s out in skiuler, \vav\ i)la(les frt)ni the shoals. Others arc perpemlieular from their hase to ihe tal.le-laiul al.oxe, whieh is iiehl\- verdant with grass,
and evergreen shrubs and

the
water's
trees.
Ileiv there
a
is
a
its
narrow
slope, bringing leaf\-
boughs to
deli-
edge;
and vonder
shadowy
leaves.
inlet,
entrance hidden bv a curtain of
cately
colored, seeminglv
luminous
-j-he
The shadows on
the water are of exciuisitely
varied
hues
antl
forms.
skv, the
clouds, the
leaves, are
mingled on the unruffled
Steamboat Kocl;, Wisconsin
lUver.
surface, save
where the massiN-c
rock
to
intervenes.
At
the
Jaws we move from one spot

and
which we think the
most lovelv
unalloyed
another
that
excels,
is
on
through
inexhaustible
Dalles as the
is
beauties, in a state of
rapture.
There
line
as
much
"life" in the
most sociable of
tourists could desire.

filled
On
davs
in the
summer
the water
skimmed
;
by pleasure-barges and row-boats,
with gayly-dressed people from neighboring towns
and
at
all
times
lumber-rafts are descending slowly to the Mississippi,

fellows,
manned
else.
b^
half-
savaije, outlandish
thoroughly picturesque
in
aspect,
if
nothing
The' rocks
A GLAXCE AT THE NORTHWEST.

and
is
.
539
sight;
lost.
This
continuous
rapid
of four
miles
is
a grand, deej)ly impressive
but on a stormy day,

its
when
great white clouds are
rolling
downward, and the wind adds

involuntarily as
voice
to
it.
that
of the
turbulent waters,
we
shiver
and sigh
we con-
template
From Minnesota we
an e\il reputation for
its
cross to the
Red River
of the North, in
Dakota a
its
stream with
far
sadness and loneliness.

as Thief
Rix'cr,
The names
of
surroundings are
from encouraging
such
Snake River, and
Dexil's
Lake
but
some of
the scenery has a quiet, pastoral character, as will be seen in the accompanying sketches.
The water
is
muddy and
sluggish, and within
Minnesota alone
in the
is
navigable four hundred
miles, for vessels of
three feer draught, four
months
year.
The banks
"
are
com-
paratively low,
and are luxuriantly grassy and wood}-.
There
are
bits
"
of secluded landa glimpse
scape
that
trail
transport us to
New
England, but we are soon recalled
b\'
of an
Indian
through the grass, a canoe toiling against the stream, and
clump of decay-
ing trees in withered, uncared-for desolation.
Indian
'rrail,
I'.ank
of
Red
River.
THE MAMMOTH CAVE.

WITH
T
1. I,
I'
S T
K A T
O N
1!
I.
F R K
1)
\V
A U D
.''H
^%
S^
'
1
-*-
"HE Mammoth
is
Cave of Kentucky
the largest
It
is
known
cave
in
the
world.
er,
situated near
Green Rivto to
on
the
road
from
Louisville
Nashville.
Some
it
explorers
claim
have penetrated
miles
the
;
to a distance
of ten
but they probably exaggerate, as
paths
through
it
are
so
tortuous,
is
and the progress of the traveller
so
much
obstructed, that they might easily

Stalactites of gigantic size
be deceived.
and fantastic form are seen here, though

they are
not
as
brilliant
as those that
is
adorn other and

pretty effects,
it
smaller
is
caves
elsewhere.
But,
if
the
Mammoth Cave
deficient in
crowded with
wild, fantastic,
and deeplv impressive forms,
that almost
forbid the intrusion of the curiosity-seeking tourist from the surface of the earth.
The
railway deposits you at Cave" City, and thence a stage-ride of ten miles brings
hotel,
you to an old-fashioned Kentucky
where guides are procured

are
led,
in
for the exploration.
Each person
is
prox'ided
with
lamp; and then you
military order,
gravit\',
l)y
pompous
negro,
who
shouts
"Halt!" and "March!" with comical
ilown
path
SCENES IN MAMMOTH CAVE.
542
that
PICTi'RliSQCIi AMI- RICA.

enters a
woddcd
is
ia\
iiu',
ami, slanting
asitlc,
terminates snddenlv
'I'railinu'
at
the portals of
tlie
cave.
Tlie entrance
alumdantly supplied with xeêlalion.
plants descend from
the arch above;

is
_s^rass
and moss i^row thickh- aioimd

falls
and the cool heantv of the scene
enhanced by
yt)U
slender thn-ad of water, which
continuallv into a small pool below.

lights the lam|is, and, in a severe
Hut
have
"
little
lime to linoer here.

!
The conductor
little
voice, calls
bôrward
"
all
few lichens wander a
way
in
from
the
entrance, with
the daylight, and then
vegetation abrupllv ceases.
You
are
ushered into a primitive

above.
chaos of wild limestone forms, moist with the water oozing

rent of air
is
from
strong cur-
behind
you, as
you think; but
it
is
in
reality the
is
"breath" of the cave.

fiftv-nine degrees
In
explanation, you are told that the temperature of the cave

the
Fahis
renheit
year
round, and
this
the
cave
exhales
or
inhales, as the
temperature outside
chill
felt
above or below
uniform standard.
is
As you
dr\-,
proceed
farther, the
near the
entrance passes away, and the air
still,
and warm.
see, in
For nearly
petre
half a mile
on vour wav you

in
the dim light, the ruins of the
salt-
works that were
built
1808, by persons in the

still
employ of the United States
Government.
hoof
is
The huge
in
vats
and tools
remain
undecayed.
The
\n\wi of an ox's
embedded
the hard floor, and the ruts of cart-wheels are also traceable.
Advancing
farther,
you enter the Rotunda, which

It
is
is
illuminated for a
moment by
sheet of oiled paper lighted by the guide.
over seventy-five feet high, one hundred

hotel,
and sixty
feet across, directly
under the dining-room of the

are imparted to
and the
beginning of
guide.
the main cave.
These things
light
you, in a loud voice, by the

walls,
The
lamps throw a feeble
on the dark, irregular
broken
ca\'e,
in
jilaces
by the m\'sterious
extend
out.-*
entrances to several avenues which lead from the main
and are
said to
alto-
gether a
distance
of one
is
hundred
miles!
What
if
the
lights
should
tell
go
The
is
thoughtful
guide
provided with
matches, and he will proudly

he
is
you
that
there
scarcely a spot into
which a traveller could stray that
not
;
familiar with.
if
As you
tramp onward, your companions ahead are rimmed with

is
light
and,
vour imagination
active,
you might transform them into gnomes or other inhabitants of the subterranean
world, albeit their
movements
are sedate as those of

is
gnomes doing penance.

bat
Anon,
that
too,
the supernatural aspect of the scene
heightened by the fluttering of a

in
spins
out of a dark crevice for an instant, and disappears again

If sly
the all-enveloping darkness.

in
you have courage

rat
to
at
look,
you
will
find
nests of his
brethren
the walls, and

the
will
dart
away
your ajiproach.
of the
One chamber,
Bat-Room
;
entered
from
Rotunda,
little
bears
the
unattractive
are
name
Great
and here thousands of the

lips at
all
creatures
found snarling and curling their delicate

strange
intruders.
tish,
These and
the
the
rats,
a few lizards, a
life
kind of cricket, and

everlasting gloom.
some
eyeless
constitute
entire animal
of this
kingdom of
From
the
Rotunda you pass beneath the beetling Kentuck)'

a
ClifTs,
and enter the

twisted
pillars
Gothic Chapel,
low-roofed
chamber of considerable
extent.
Several
SCENES IN MAMMOTH CAVE.
544
ascend
are
iant
PICTURJiSQUE AMERICA.
from the ground
into arches tormed of jaoocd
altar
n.ck, and,
as
in
the
falls
(hstance, there
..n
two
which
form
an
of
is
crhttering
splendor
the
ii-ht
their
tell
brill-
stalactites.
Near
here, too,
the
Bridal
at
Chaml.er,
and the suide
will
you
how
not
certain
maiden, having promised
the death-l.rd of
earth,
her mother that she

to this dark
would
was
marry anv man
on
the
\
face
of the
came down
place and
married.
He
grow
will
also tell
ou that these great

a sheet of
stalactites that arc so
massive take hfty
years to
to the thickness of
pajier.
Then, with
sharp word of com-
mand, he wdl lead you on into There are

are floated in
rivers
fresh
wonders.
and lakes among the mysteries of the

boat
Mammoth
u])
Cave, and
\()U
small
on
the
dark,
stillv,
lone waters,
among columns and

by a
walls,
stalactites, lighted arches and spires, leaden-hued rock and jewelled
flaring torch
in
the guide's hand.

are
Memory
that
constantly flitting before
forms cannot retain a distinct idea of the thousand weird As you pass one point, a mass of rock eye.
the the
assumes a human form, lowering upon you, and

sight into the darkness.
next instant
it
vanishes
from the
The next
halt
is
in
another wide
room,
in
the
is
middle
called
of which
rests
an immense
rock, in the exact
shape of a
for a
sarcophagus.
This
the
its
Giant's
lid,
Coffin,
and the
guide, leaving
you alone
minute or two, reappears on
his
form, shadowed
on the
of an
wall, imitating all his
movements.
Above
the
shadow you
will notice the figure
ant-eater,
one of the many shapes with

iron.
which the ceilings of the caverns are
adorned by the oxide of
Vou
will
feet
then rest a while under the

high, with
its
Mammoth Dome,
interesting.
which appears much over a hundred
magnificent walls of sheer rock,
and
at
Napoleon's Dome, which

will
is
smaller
than
the
former, but hardly less
Afterward the guide

hollow, the surface
called the
conduct you to the edge of a projecting rock overlooking a

is
of which
composed of bowlder-like masses of

Star-Chamber the
the others
;
rock, ridiculously
Lover's Leap.
In the than
stalactites
assume new forms, even
more curious and
beautiful
and, in
Shelby's
Dome, you
are
ushered
into a scene of indescribable grandeur.
The
height seems limitless, and the eye traces on

projections
the walls innumerable scrolls, panels, and fanciful
of the
most varied design

has a depth of
leads
and beauty. one

this
pit,
Under
the
dome
is
the
celebrated Bottomless Pit, which

a
hundred and seventy-five
feet,
and
wooden Bridge
Pit.
of
Sighs, which
from
chasm
and, as
to
another, called
the
to
Side -Saddle
it,
railing
surrounds
the
principal
you stand holding
and peering into
the
depths, the
guide
illuminates
the
dome
At
a
above, affording one the grandest sights in the cave.

point
called
the
Acute Angle there

built
jmIc
is
a rude
pile of
unhewn
stone, cafled
McPherson's Monument, which was
by the surviving
staff-ofiicers
of that general.
stone
visit
is
occasionally
added to the
by those of McPherson's soldiers or friends
who
the cave.
NEW YORK AND BROOKLYN

^-
New-York Bay.
^HERE
it
are
kw
cities
in
the
world
so
admirabh^
situated
as
New
York.
The
-^
grand Hudson
rolls its
;
waters on one
side';
its
the swift and deep tides of the East
River wash
into a
on the other
bay
;
both
unite
is
at
southern
extremitv, where they expand
broad
and
this
bay
practically a
land-locked harbor, that, by a
narrow
the
gate-way, opens into the expanses of the Atlantic.

north, a wide, deep stream
far
The Hudson comes down from

miles,
for a
hundred and
is
fifty
opening intercourse with the

river,
interior; the
East River, which
an arm of the sea rather than a
opens twenty
546
miles
from
its
mnutli
into
this
Long-Island
water -course
Sound, establishing by
and tributary streams connection with the
New
England
States.
Bays and
It
rivers
is
completely encompass the place.

island, very
an
narrow
in
at
its
its
southern or bay
end, broadening of
centre to a width
at its
two
miles,
and narrowing again
northern
eight
extremity.
On
the
its
eastern side,
is
miles
the
from
Battery,
the
mouth of
Harlem, a mere bayou of
East River, which, running west and then

northerly,
connects
the
by
Spuyten
Duyvil
the
Creek
with
Hudson,
the
forming
island,
northern
boundary of
side, is
which,
long.
on
its
eastern
is
eleven
miles
The name
island
frequently
known by
after
it
the
the
their
of
Manhattan, so called
that
Indian
tribe
once
made
home.
Our
way
J3
artist
approaches the city by the
of
the
of
sea.
We
sail
up the broad
as
expanse
water
known
the
Lower
Bay, nearing the famous Narrows, a comparatively contracted
channel, formed
Island
by
one
the
side
projection
of
Long
Island
on
and
shore
part,
Staten
on
the
other.
The
est
of each island, at the narrowis
crowned with
forts,
fortified
by embankments, and
cannon.
paratively
ed,
both
bristle
is
with
The Long-Island
flat,
shore
com-
but
is
handsomely woodvillages
and some
out
pretty
their
and
of
hills,
villas
peep
Staten
are
from
screens
fine
foliage.
Island rises
into
which
anil
crowned
with
with
noble
mansions
graced
park -like grounds, while

shore, cluster
at
their feet,
jii/lteiri:;i;L;,,:..ii,l^.!^*lfe^,i.:.,
on the
busy and
bustling villages.
NEW YORK AND

ciation
.
BROOKLYN.
ooJ
and
unfamilinr with
ro-
mance.
Before entering the heart of
the citv, let us
artist at a
glance with the
quaint and picturesque
scene, lying but a short distance
from the
River
of the
Batteiy
on the Eastis
side.
This
portion
town which mc^dern imhas

left
provement
untouched
tlie
the wharves where
old-fashoff
ioned
ships
from
far
ports
discharge their precious cargoes;
where
merchants
of
the
old
Knickerbocker
their
qualitv
in
;
conduct
business
dark
and un-
savor\'
tars,
chambers
where the old

and
Bunsbys,
the
Cuttles
are
wont
to assemble;
where the
is
very idea of a steamship

fanation
pro-
venerable,
place, dear
quaint,
and decaying
to the
hearts of the ancient mariners.
Within the
takes
us
at
city,
our
the
artist
once
to
spire
of Trinity Church.
edifice
is
This famous
a
comparatively
the
site
new
one
church
dating
of the
upon
far
cit)'.
of
back into the annals

It
is
new
church,
it
but
the
o;rounds
around
are
marked
bling
tree
-
by
ancient
and
an
crumantique,
in
grave - stones,
embowered
spot
the of
is
heart of the
busiest
portion
the
less
town.
than
Trinity
half a
Church
from
mile
the
Trinity-Church. Tower.
Battery, standing
on
Broadway
Street
and
facinp-
down Wall
552
PIC TLRHSOUJi
AM URICA.
which
all
the
the
world
knows
centre
as
monetary
continent.
of
is
of the
the
From
the
a
outlook
the
picture
spire
varied
one.
Looking
spectator
southward, the
sees
Bowling
Green,
at
small
enclosure of
the
terminus
and,
just
Broadway,
the
circu-
beyond,
Battery,
lar
with the
mass of Castle Gar-
den.
Beyond
these
are
the bay, with Governor's
Island
and
its
fort,
and
Stat-
the distant hills of
en
Island.
The views
posi-
from our elevated

tion
artist
are
all
good.
The
has given a glance
up Broadway, which gives

one an idea of the
spirit
of this part of the street,
shows some of the

marble
indicates
structures,
tall,
and
the
bustling
the
throngs upon
pave-
ments below.
The
artist
has
made
no attempt
the varied
to illustrate
features
of
the
metropolis, but
sim-
ply to give a glimpse or
two
which
at
its
interior,
by
the
imagination
may
build
up a tolerably
of the charthe
place.
correct idea
acteristics
of
NEW YORK AND

depositing
city-refuse,
BROOKLYN.
this refuse
557 had to be
re-
and tens of thousands of cart-loads of

reached
or
moved
to
before the natural surface could be
the
laying
out
begun.
Art had
lakes,
do
;
every
it
thing
for
it.
There were no
of
forests,
no groves, no lawns, no
no
for
walks
lakes
;
was simply a
were planted
is
desert
;
rocks
and
rubbish.
laid
The ground was excavated

;
trees
roads
and
paths
out
bridges
a
little
built.
The
result
is
pleasure-ground that
trees to be
already famous, and
only
needs
more maturing of
the
in
one of the
its
handsomest parks of the world.
It
is
not so large as some
Europe,
while, in
terrace,
luit
its
size
is
not insignificant, numbering eight hundred and forty-three acres

with Nature,
rustic
its its
union of
towers
art
many
bridges of quaint
lakes, its
design,
its
Italian-like
its
and
its
houses,
boat -covered
it
secluded
in
rambles
and
picturesque nooks,
wide walks and promenades,
is
unapproached
this
country and
H.irlem
River,
High Bridge.
unexcelled
abroad.
Our
artist
it
gives a
fully.
few glimpses at
places in the park, but

is
it
would
it
take a volume to illustrate
One element
of satisfaction in the park

Its
that
is
not only an art and picturesque trium])h
it
is
a jwpular success.
superb drives are
thronged with vehicles, while
all
its
paths are
occupied
(;f
on summer afternoons by imvisitors

is
mense numbers of
extraneous means.
are the nuclei of
the people.
The enjoyment
a
the
enhanced
by
many
There are an aviary and
menagerie
tolerabl)" well filled,

;
and which
what are destined
to be large institutions a
and there
is
also a
Museum
swings,
of Natural Histoiy.
is
There are boats on the lakes;

are
nurseries,
camera; and twice a week there

-
music.
For the children there
goat
carriages,
camel
riding,
"
run-rountls," anil other devices.
Above
Central Park, the whole
ishmd has
been
recentlv
laid
out
anew
in
superb
558
PIC 1 'URESQ UE AMERICA.

di"i\c'S
and
broad public
\va\
s,
where one
Hut
all
nia\'
is
always
see
the
fast
horses of the bloods.
here
new, and,
with
the
the exception of
the roads, unconstructed.
There
is
animation of crowded thoroughfares, but nothiny
pict-
uresque.
At
Harlem
River,
is
which
a
forms
the
northern
of
boundarv of the
this eral
island, there
change.
It
is
The banks
river are high
and well wooded.

for
crossed by sev-
bridges,
and by a viaduct
the
waters of the Cro-
ton,
which are here brought into the town
from the
rural
is
districts
above
the
for
the
use
of the
citizens,
and which
known by
nation of
ever, of
somewhat
Bridge.
incorrect
It
is
and veiy prosaic desigstructure,
High
handsome
how-
high granite piers
and graceful arches, and shows
>--^"--i
Til
from
different
points
of
view,
through
vistas
of
trees,
from
hills,
the open river, from distant
from appioachlofty beauty.

is
ing drives, with
singular
and even
in
The
tall
tower shown
the engraving
foi
the elevation of the Croton to an altitude

cient
suffi-
to
give
it
force
for
the
suppl\-
of
resi-
Iligli
Bridge and Wati'i-Tower.
NEW YORK AND

dences.on the
effect.
hi,a:h
BROOKLYN.
city.
559
hridge
hanks
in
the upper part of the
Tower and
make
a fine
Kino-'s
Brido-e crosses the river near
Spuvten-Duyvil Creek, which unites the Harlem
King's Bridge.
with
the
Hudson.
This
is
an
old,
historic
bridge, identified
with
manv
of the
ripe
early
events in the history of the town.
The scene
with
here has
adjuncts
something of that
of art
that
mellow-
id effective grouping of landscape ness anc
give
such a
charm
56o
PlCTi RESOUE
IM ERICA.
ry scenes.
Spuyten-Duyvil Creek.
tist
The
ar-
also
gives
us a glimpse of
Spuyten
î-:,^''<Ssffe'
Duyvil near
in
the
Hudson, the
tall
\^^!^^':^
escarpments
the
distance
being the well-
%^
^'"I>T"
known
Palisades of the
Hudson.
to
From Harlem we proceed

Brooklyn, lying opposite to
glancing on our
the
great
city
of
-^wP"'
New
York, on Long Island,

East River.
the
tide
way
at
two famous
river,
])oints in the
One
is
Hell Gate, situated

debouches.
swift, the
It
is
at
narrow bend of the
near
the
;
point where
and,
as
Harlem
is
filled
with dangerous rocks and

abrupt, there
is
shallows
the
a
very
channel
narrow, the bend

rocks.
always
danger
that
vessel
may
re-
be
driven
upon the
as
Some
of the
more dangerous obstructions have been
moved, and,
rocks, which
we
write, extensive suliterranean channels are
becoming opened under the

the
are
eventually to
be
filled
with
powder, and
shallow
reefs
blown
to
atoms.
Blackwell's
It
is
Island begins just
below Hell Gate, and
extends
al)Out
two miles
are the
southward.
occupied solely by city institutions, penal and otherwise.
Here
House
of Correction, Lunatic Asylum,
Workhouse, and Citv
Penitentiary.
The beauty
WASHINGTON AND
ITS VICINITY.
L.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W.
SHEPPARD.
The
Capitol, from the Botanic Gardens.
*HE
the
site
chosen by the
first
Congress
for
the
capital of the
United
States,
is
and christened by
a
name
of the
first
President,
broad
plateau,
eleva-
whicli,
tion,
on the eastern
is
side, rises to
a graceful
and
bounded on two
its
sides
by the
"
river
Po-
tomac and
tributar)'
called
city,
the
Eastern Branch."
its
The main
quarter,
its
portion
of the
its
including
business
public buildings,
plain,
its
main thoroughfares, and

at
aristocratic residences, stands
upon
hills;
a rather level
terminated
itself
the
rear
by a
series of
wooded and
irregular
while the
Capitol
rears
upon
a sloping elevation,
and overlooks a wide ex-
tent of country.
Washington has
beauty.
not. until witliin comparatively recent
years,
in
been celebrated
large
part
for its
Formerly
it
was an unattractive
with
liberal
place,
composed
and
little
of low the
and
na-
mostlv
wooden
buildings,
streets
ill-paved
cared
for.
Now
in the
tional' metropolis,
thanks to
expenditures
and a newly-born pride
govern-
566
tliat
its
meat
seat
should
he
\V(iilh\'
i)f
its
distinction, presents an aspect
not
Its
only of
prosperity, but of sights agreeable to the eye
and
mostly
in
good
taste.
adornment
;
has betrayed that
its
natural
advantages were greater than had been supposed
and the
seeker after the

serving, at
"
j)icturesque
may hnd ample opportunity

official
to
gratify his quest while ob-
magnificent distances," the
palaces which
have
been
erected
at
the
service of the republic.
The most
striking
object
at
Washington
is
is
undoubtedly
is
the
magnificent
rail
white-
marble Capitol, a glimpse of which

timore.
It
caught as the city

all
approached by
from Bal-
rises majestically
far
above
surrounding objects, amid a nest of thick and

hill
darkly verdant
lofty
foliage,
its
on
the
brow of the
its
to
which
it
gives
its
its
name
its
very
dome, with
colossal
tiers
of columns,
Iîbcrty,
its
rich
ornamentation, and
a
summit surmounted
bv
the
statue
;
of
presents
noble
appearance, and
may
be
seen
for
manv
an
miles
around
while
broad, white wings, low in
proportion to the dome, give

surpasses.
idea
of spaciousness which
beautiful
no palace of European potentate

are
There
are
few more
though
edifice
is
there
many
larger
//lil^Jt
parks in the United States than that which surrounds

the
Capitol.
The
approached through
an
r
avenue entered by high iron gates; on either side of

this
^"" """""^lll/l:^'
are
beautiful
flower-plots, paths
shaded by arch-
ing branches, fountains, and copses.
A
the
double
base
tier of
green
terraces
is
ascended
before
of
the
<
t^
St
Capitol,
Western
Terrr.cc.
WASHINGTON AND
Capitol
in form,
is
ITS VICINITY.
on
a
567
terrace,
reached
a
then
you
find
yourself
broad
marble
see
semicircular
with
large
fountain
beside
you, whence
at
last
you may
the
silvery
foliage
windings
of the
Potomac miles away, disappearing

to
amid the abundant

the
far
where the
this
Maryland and Virginia coasts seem

out you
rise the
blend
in
;
distance.
From
look-
may
discern every part of the metropolis
in the
midst of the mass of houses
white-marble Post-Office Department and the
yet
handsomer Patent-Office
just
beside
it.
Some
distance farther on
is
to be descried the long colonnade of the Treasury,

crests
and the top of the White House, just beyond, peeps from among the
ing groups of trees
;
of flourish-
more
to the
left
are
seen the picturesque, castle-like, red-sandstone

al-
towers and
turrets of
the Smithsonian Institution, standing solitary on a broad plain
In the White-House Grounds.
ready sprouting with young foliage.

ished shaft of the
Between the Smithsonian and the creek the

a square
unfin-
Washington Monument,
the
eye,
marble torso of desolate appearance,
meets the view
while
spanning the Potomac,
may
catch sight, in
tlie
distance,
of that lordly old

earlier
in the
manor-house of Arlington,
the
identified, in very different ways, with

far
the
and
west
later history of
;
country.
Georgetown Heights form the

hills,
background
more
to the north, the picturesque
with their wild, straggling growths,

of the city, form a strik-
which, from the main suburt)S and sites of suburban residences

ing
framework to
on the
east.
the
scene.
small
park
also
stretches
in
out
at
the
its
rear of the
Capitol,
This presents, however, nothing notable
scenery,
chief adorn-
568
being
the
sitting-
mcnt
statue
\vaiinl\-
of Washington, in
defended.
Roman
ihe
costume, which
limits
has been so
sharply
criticisetl
and so
Just
outside
of this
park stands
Capitol was
the
"
Old
Capitol," a
iiriiish
quaint
in
iirick
building
used
by Congress when
died,
the
burned
bv the
1814, in wliich Caliioun
and wliich was used as a prison
during the
late war.
At
the
opposite
end of the
city
from the Capitol

it
is
the group of departments sur-
rounding the presidential mansion, and enclosing with

grounds.
rather
pleasant,
umbrageous parks and

;
On
one side are the Treasury and new State Departments

old-fashioned,
on the
other, the
plain,
cosey-looking
War
and
Navy Departments
oddly
enough
Smithsonian Institution, near Wliite-House Grounds.
the most placid and modest of the
Washington
edifices,
purlieus.
is
The White House
is
situated
midway between
these
two groups of
its
is
and
completely surrounded by open and

its
ornamental spaces.
a
In front of
high, glaringly white portico, with

a corroded
portc cochcre,
is
lawn, in
the centre of which
copper statue of President Jefferson.

is
This
lawn reaches to the thoroughfare, beyond which

trees,
Lafayette Square, thickly planted with

statue
among which
by elegant
stands
Clark
Mills's
equestrian
of
Washington,
and
sur-
rounded
residences
occupied
by senators,
the
diplomats, cabinet
ministers,
is
and
its
wealthy bankers.
rear.
The most
is
|)icturesque view of
White House, however,

l)ut
from
The
front
not
imposing.
At
the
back, a small
beautiful
park, profusely
Q 2 m z
<
u
I
Q Z 5 J
574
arc seen
on the shore vou
rises
are approachinga
while
slope,
lies
quite
near
at
in
hand
the
little
the
richest
portico
of
Arlington
foliage.
on the summit of
far
hightT
emliedded
picturesque
Virginian
Just
hclow, not
from the shore,
island,
Analostan,
which would almost seem to have floated from some Old-World waters, and been moved
(juite
out of
its
sphere, in
the
midst of a young country.

for
For
it
betrays, half hidden
amid creepers and shrubbery, which have

unforbidden, what
many
years
been permitted to grow there
seem
remains of ancient habitations.

of a
baronial
One
fallen
migiit
in
fancy that
it
had
some time been the

Here,
in reality, in
site
stronghold,
now
ruins
and
deserted.
the
early days of the
republic, lived
sturdy old Virginian gentlepart in the formation
man
of aristocratic descent and rank,
who
played no
insignificant
Arlington Heights, from Grounds in National Observatory.
of the government, and for
some time represented
his
native State in the old Congress.

idea of lordly seclusion to the ex-
This was George Mason.

tent of seating himself
He
carried the aristocratic
on
this lonely, well-shaded island,
where he
built an old-fashioned
Virginia manor-house, and

to have been deserted,
resided in
it
in
solitary state.
But, after his
death,
it
seems
and now
'only serves to
adorn the landscape with a somewhat cuis
rious
and peculiar
feature.
The walk from

river are to be
the aqueduct to Arlington
by a road whence
continual
glimpses of the
had through the wild-womi, where the shrubparticular,
bery grows
tangled and rude, and wild-grapes, in
abound.
Arlington
is
now
WASHINGTON AND
no
.longer
ITS VICINITY.
575
what
it
was before the days of war and consequent change of occupancy

it
came.
Those who remember
when Mr.
Custis,
its
venerable
owner, was
still
alive,
preserve the impression of an ideal
old \"irginia
manor and
Its
estate
site
one,
is
indeed, which
an English noble would not have
been ashamed to own.

its
most imposing
hundred
one
feet
the lawn sweeps broadly
down from
striking,
ample porch
jêrfect
for several
toward the river

A-'irginia
its
interior, in
Mr. Custis's time, was a
reproduction of an
aristocratic
interior
of a
century ago.
a
The road was pointed out by which

distance
Washington used
to ride from
Mount Vernon,
some
relic
often or twelve miles; and
every nook and corner preserved
or reminder of the Father of his Country,
Fort Washington.
many
of
them bequeathed by him
to
Mr. Custis, who was
his
adopted son.
;
All about
the place had the aspect of wealth, antiquity, and aristocratic ease
it
and, from the porch,
was, and
still
is,
possible to have a very picturesque view of the capital city, from the
Capitol to where the city merges into Georgetown.
The Potomac,
for several miles north
as well
as
south
of \Vashington,
is
is
bordered
by attractive landscapes.
One
of the
pleasantest walks in that vicinity

canal, with
from George-
town northward along the banks of the

side,
the
arlificial
water-course
on one
the
and the broad, winding, and here rather rapid
river api)earing every
moment on
that
other.
mile from Georgetown by this road, you never would
imagine
you were
576
in so
close
proximity to
one of the "centres of
civilization."
The
scenery
is
wild,
almost rugged.
the hanks, which
profusion of brush and slnubhery mingles with

rise
the forest-trees
are
along
in
continual
and
irregular
elevations
there
few habitations,
After pro-
and
sueii
as
there
are
recall
the former social
status
of the border States.
ceeding thus about tinee miles, you reach Little Falls, which
to
have
no other pretensions
scenery, and
distinction
than
that
they
in
are
surrounded
by
very attractive
here
form
modest cataract winding
and out among the rocks which
encounter the stream.
Over
Little
Falls
is
a high bridge, by which
one passes
in
minute or two from Marythe metropolis
land into \"irginia.
Piled-up rocks line the shore, and anglers from
may
often be found perched

vides.
upon them, enjoying the very good

falls,
fishing
which the spot pro;
Great
Falls, as
are
more pretentious than
Little
Falls
they
are
situated
a short distance above.
Here the water foams and rushes among jagged

as
it
rocks, forming
numerous cascades and pools

a
hastens on.
In
this region the

;
Potomac
all
has
its
become
course,
comparatively narrow stream, with limpid and rapid waters

flir
and
along
as
as
Harper's Ferry,
its
its
valley presents a varied,
unkempt
scenery, which
makes the
jaunt along
But, on
shores a thoroughly pleasant one.
the
Potomac below Washington, where

more worthy of
and
because
it
is
now
broader and
slower in
is
motion,
tiie
aspects are perhaps
inspection, both because Nature here

at
more some
brings
genial
and
more
cultivated,
every step
there
is
reminder of
historical scene, old or
modern.
Passing
dowm by
the steamboat, less than an hour

for
you,
between verdant, sloping banks dotted by well-to-do-looking and

country-houses, to the landing-place,
the
most
non.
part venerable
It
is
whence you reach Mount Ver-
unnecessary to describe this

if
home
of Washington, so familiar to every citizen
by description
not by
sight.
On
is
either side of the
river are Forts
Washington, Foote, and other strongholds,
fa-
miliar to the history of the

especially fine,
war
of the rebellion.
at
its
The view northward from Fort Foote
comprehending the view
widest, bay-like expanse, and bringing into
clear relief
the city of Washington, with the bright

;
dome
still
dominating
all
surroundcliffs
ing objects
while the shores in the iinmediate

rich
foreground are composed of gentle
crowned with the
growths of that Southern clime.
THE END.
E 168 B892 V.2
Bryant, William Cullen Pictiiresque America
?.X.
^^r.
I 2.
^.
^^^^,,,,U.
^/.P^

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"II

THE LAND WE LIVE

A DELINEATION BY PEN AND PENCIL

ou ^tccl and ^i*oo(l by (Eminent

EDITED BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

APPLETON AND COMPANY

the year ,874, by Act of Congress, in

APPLETON AND COMPANY,

Librarian of Congress, 1. the Office of the

CONTENTS, VOLUME SECOND.

HIGHLANDS ANil) PALISADES OF THE HUDSON.

VALLEY OF THE CONNECTICUT.

THE PLAINS AND THE

LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

VALLEY OF THE GENESEE.

LAWRENCE AND THE SAGUENAY.

THE ADIRONDACK REGION.

THE CONNECTICUT SHORE OF THE SOUND.

CONTENTS, VOLUME SECOND.

THE MOHAWK, ALBANY, AND TROY. THE UPPER DELAWARE.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

THE MAMMOTH CAVE.

NEW YORK AND BROOKLYN.

YORK, FROM BROOKLYN HEIGHTS.

MOUTH OF THE MOODNA.

CONNECTICUT VALLEY, FROM MOUNT TOM.

FROM SOUTH MOUNTAIN, CATSKILL.

EMIGRANTS CROSSING THE PLAINS.

THE HOUSATONIC. THE CITY OF

BEVERLY COAST, ^L\SSACHUSETTS.

the rocky mountains.

terrace, central park.

washington, from arlington heights.

HIGHLANDS AND PALISADES OF THE HUDSON.

arc willing; to accept

voyage among the noblest scenes of our most

ditions of the ordinary -uidc.

he the most trlorious outlook, nor does

fixed ideas of the traveller's

true wa\-, then, to learn the noblest beauties

Hudson's grandest region,

Highlands with the

the perfect pictures which

midst of the mountain-group.

from enter on our journey in search of the picturesque, then,

too near the Highlands;

The Hudson, south from Newbuvg.

HIGHLAXDS AND PALISADES OF THE HUDSON.

point of practical as well

one of our writers has called

and sunny portion

one may quarrel

busy foundcrics, but

become the most

and striking feature

the Hudson's scenery.

comes across the water

the stillness, as the

the weaker forces of the world are

sunny portion of the

broad, straight avenue between the

more than twenty

Ellcboge of the old Dutch settlers

PIC TURESQ UE A MERICA.