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قراءة كتاب Forest, Rock, and Stream A series of twenty steel line-engravings
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Forest, Rock, and Stream A series of twenty steel line-engravings
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The echoes that so boldly rung
When cannon flashed from steep to steep,
And Freedom’s airy challenge flung,
In each romantic valley sleep.
His counsels here our chieftain breathed,
Here roved his mild, undaunted eye,
When yon lone fort, with thickets wreathed,
Held captive Britain’s gallant spy.
Fit home to rear a nation’s youth
By self-control to nerve the will,
Through knowledge gain expansive truth,
And with high aims life’s circle fill.
How grateful is the sudden change
From arid pavements to the grass,
From narrow streets that thousands range,
To meadows where June’s zephyrs pass!
Beneath the cliffs the river steals
In darksome eddies to the shore,
But midway every sail reveals,
Reflected on its crystal floor.
In tranquil mood the cattle walk
Along the verdant marge to feed,
While poised upon the mullein stalk
The chirping redbird picks the seed.
Low murmurs in the foliage bred,
The clear horizon’s azure line,
Fresh turf elastic to the tread,
And leafy canopies are thine.
White fleecy clouds move slowly by,
How cool their shadows fall to day!
A moment on the hills they lie,
And then like spirits glide away.
Amid the herbage, yesternight,
His web the cunning spider threw,
And now, as sparkling diamonds bright,
It glistens with the pendent dew.
Gay butterflies dart on and sink
O’er the sweet blossoms of the pea,
And from the clover’s globe of pink
Contented hums the downy bee.
In all this varied beauty glows
Deep meaning for the thoughtful heart,
As it were fain to teach repose,
And lofty confidence impart.
How vivid to my fancy now,
Uprise the forms that life redeem!
The ardent eye, the open brow,
And tender smile beside me seem.
For Nature’s presence gathers back
The deeds that grace, the loves that cheer,
And as her holy steps we track,
Hope’s rainbow breaks through sorrow’s tear.
Henry Theodore Tuckerman.
TOWN OF CATSKILL, HUDSON RIVER.
CATSKILL is more known as the landing-place for travellers bound to the mountains above, than for any remarkable events in its own history, or any singular beauties in itself. It is a thrifty town, in which the most prosperous vocations are those of inn-keeper and stage-proprietor; and during the summer months these two crafts at Catskill entertain and transport to the hotel on the mountain half the population of the United States,—more or less. The crowded steamers stop at the landing on their way up and down; and a busier scene than is presented on the wharf daily could not easily be found.
I have often thought, in passing, of the contrast between these numerous advents and the landing of Hendrick Hudson on this very spot, in his voyage of discovery up the river. He found here, he says, “a very loving people and a very old man,” by whom he and his crew were very kindly entertained. From the first step of a white man’s foot on the soil to the crowded rush of passengers from a steam-boat; from a savage wilderness to the height of civilization and science,—it is but a little more than two hundred years of rapid history. Compare the old Indian canoe in which Hudson went from his vessel to the land, with a steamer carrying on its deck near a thousand souls; compare the untutored population which then swarmed upon the shore, with the cultivated and refined crowds who come and go in thousands on the same spot,—and the contrast is as astonishing as the extinction of the aboriginal race is melancholy.
It is surprising how few details connected with the races that inhabited the older settlements of our country are reached even by the researches of Historical Societies. The materials for the future poets and historians of America are in this department singularly meagre, though it might almost be supposed that the very tracks of the retreating tribes might at this early day be still visible on the soil. Wherever any particulars of the intercourse between the first settlers and the Indians are preserved, they are highly curious, and often very diverting. In a book on the settlements of this country, written by Captain Nathaniel Uring, who visited it in 1709, there is an interesting story connected with the history of one of the forts, built, by permission of the Indians, to secure the settlers against sudden incursion.
“It happened one day,” says the Captain, relating the story as it was