THE WATERING PLACES.
PUNCHINELLO'S VACATIONS.
On the portico of the Mountain House, in the Catskills, Mr. PUNCHINELLO had the honor of being welcomed by Prof. AGASSIZ, Mr. P. had just arrived, and his valise was in his hand; but the Professor insisted on a little conversation with him.
"In spite of the crowds at these summer resorts," said this learned man, "one seldom meets with any one who takes an interest in science."
Mr. P. bowed, and mentally resolved to rub up his stock of polytechnology for the occasion.
"I am glad, Mr. PUNCHINELLO," continued the Professor, "that you have not neglected science in your excellent journal. You have had some admirable treatises on natural history. The country is your debtor, sir."
Mr. P. bowed again, and hoped, in his inmost heart, that the country would soon pay up.
"I must admit that I am disappointed here--in several ways. In the first place, I have not found a single glacier."
"No glaciers!" cried Mr. P., in surprise.
"No sir, not one, and I can find no sign of the Triassic period."
"Oh no!" said Mr. P. "Not now. That was several years ago, when GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN, COLORADO JEWETT, and DAN RICE's celebrated little donkey were here. They're all gone now."
The Professor looked up a little surprised at these remarks, but went on with his complaints. "And not a trace of cleavable pyroxene," said he.
"Pie rock!" said Mr. P. to himself. "I'm glad it isn't seen. Have these geologists got to that?"
"I hoped, too," continued the Professor, "to get a little scoria."
"Oh!" said Mr. P. "You wanted to run up a little score here. Well sir, I think, in your case, that might be done--in fact, I've no doubt of it."
"I fear you do not quite understand me," said the Professor. "I have not found here what I had expected. To be sure, I met with a little gneiss----"
"Ah! a little niece," said Mr. P., rubbing his hands. "Well, now, that must be pleasant I am very glad indeed to hear it. It will certainly make the place much more agreeable for you."
"Yes,--" said the Professor, "but it don't amount to much. I wanted particularly to find on these mountains some traces of their having once been a part of the shores of the ocean----"
"Oh!" cried Mr. P., "I can help you there. I can show you a fine BEACH,--if that is what you want."
"You can?" exclaimed the Professor. "With shells?"
"I don't know about that," said Mr. P., "but there he is, in the bar-room--he keeps the house--and you can ask him yourself about the shells."
Mr. P. now took occasion to hurry after the waiter to his room, but he heard the muttered thunder of a German-storm below him as he rapidly climbed the stairs. He had a very nice room in the extreme upper part of the house, and the view was charming.
To the East one could see the Hudson-"winding like a silver thread;" the distant Bay of Fundy; and the foggy shores of Newfoundland.
To the South were distinctly visible the blue Juniata; the bold arch of the Natural Bridge; and the long lines of shipping at New Orleans; while in the West, the setting sun could be seen glowing upon the walls of the Yo Semite, and gilding the tops of the big trees in the Mariposa valley.
After feasting his eyes on this magnificent prospect, Mr. P. came down-stairs to feast on something which owed its enchantment to a cooking-range, and not to a range of distance. He met the Professor at the bottom of the stairs, and hastened to pacify him by inquiries about some little bushes that he had just gathered.
"That is laurel," said the learned man, grumly.
"Indeed!" said Mr. P. "We make lard of that in New York."
"Lard?" cried the Professor. "I never heard of such a thing."
"Oh, yes, certainly!" said Mr. P.
"Have you never heard of the great LORILLARD manufacturing establishment?"
"Never;" said AGASSIZ, "and I'll go and see it the very day I reach the city."
| The next day Mr. P. made the ascent of High Peak. Everybody does that; and so, with a small party, Mr. P. started out--gaily enough. On reaching the place where the heavy climbing begins, they met the New York Fat Men's Club coming down, and the peculiar appearance of the members deterred most of Mr. P.'s party from attempting the great feat. It was proposed that Mr. P. alone should make the ascent. He assented--and being thus, in a manner, ordered up--went it alone. It was not an easy thing--that climbing of High Peak--as any one will be apt to conclude after attentively studying this picture of the ascent. But an indomitable will can conquer all obstacles that are not too much for it, and at last Mr. P. balanced himself on the extreme point of the Peak. The view was so glorious that he instantly hastened down to inform his companions that they too must not miss it upon any account. Several of them, JOHN BINGHAM, of Ohio; SIMON CAMERON, and HENRY WILSON, of Massachusetts, objected very strongly to the proposed climb, as they were never in the habit of occupying very high ground. But Mr. P. insisted that they would there obtain what they needed more than anything else in the world, and he begged their pardon if he referred to extended views. So at last they all went up, and when they reached the topmost point Mr. P. placed himself so as to cut off his companions' retreat, and then he delivered to them a discourse that they will not soon forget. |
| When from his remarks, and the practical illustration which lay beneath them, they had been made aware that it was a great country of varied interests, and not a few little sections, for which they should legislate, Mr. P. let them down. The following morning, after testing an admirable specimen of horn-blending--offered him by Mr. BEACH, and not Prof. AGASSIZ, Mr. P. set out alone for the Kauterskill Falls. His trip was wonderful. He went in a wagon. The scene was sublime. At one place he came across a bevy of New York artists sketching the scenery, and their sensations when he suddenly cut off their north light must have been peculiar. But they regained their accustomed pallor as the old horse struggled manfully, and the danger passed away. At last, after an exciting ride over roads that had perhaps never been trod before by human wheels, Mr. P. reached the great Kauterskill Falls--that lovely freak of nature which has been celebrated in all ages, and of which the poet says: |
|
"The noble splash Niagara gives, In thee, fair Kauterskill, still lives; All but the mighty roar and size. And clamor of wild hackmen's cries." |
This view of the Falls is from a sketch by Mr. P. himself.
(He will send a beautiful chromo of it--seventeen and a fourteenth by eighteen and thirteen fifteenths of an inch--life size,--and a copy of the paper for nine years, for thirty-four dollars and a quarter--postage paid.)