I breathed, in fancy, 'neath thy cloudless skies,
The summer's air, and heard her echoed harmonies."
Halleck
LEFT Easton for the Valley of Wyoming, sixty miles distant, at three o'clock in the morning. The storm was over, and the broken clouds, flitting upon a cool wind from the northwest, permitted a few gleams of moonlight to stray down to earth. Although there were but three passengers in the coach (two ladies and an infant), I took a seat with the driver, for there were promises of a bright morning and magnificent scenery. The coachman was a good-natured Pennsylvania Dutchman, rather taciturn, and such an adept in his profession that his practiced ear detected the absence of a shoe from the foot of one of the "leaders" when three miles from Easton. A blacksmith by the road side was aroused, the shoe was replaced, and within an hour we had ascended the fertile slopes of the Delaware and Lehigh, to Nazareth, a Moravian village about half way between Easton and the Wind-gap in the Blue Mountains. The day had not yet dawned, yet the snatches of moonlight enabled me to observe the uniform and neat appearance of the houses in the village.1 We were now high among the hills, whence the mists from the rivers and valleys had rolled up when the storm ceased at midnight, and I was glad to take shelter from the chilling vapor within the coach. The seats were spacious, and, having one in exclusive possession, I made a couch of it, using the carpet bag of one of the a pillow, and slept soundly for an hour. When I awoke, the morning light was
* Nazareth is seven miles northwest of Easton. It contains a church, a sisters' house, a large and flourishing seminary for boys, and the usual dead-house and cemetery peculiar to the sect. The place was named, and, it may be said, founded, by the Rev. George Whitcfield, the eloquent cosmopolite preacher. He had labored in conjunction with the Moravians in Georgia. When, about 1740, they refused to take up arms for the governor of the province, and left Georgia for the more peaceful domain of William Penn, Whitcfield accompanied them. He began to erect a large building "in the Forks of the Delaware" as a school for negro children, while the Moravians, under Bishop Nischman, purchased the site and founded the town of Bethlehem, about ten miles distant. Whitefield named his domain, or manor, Nazareth. He did not complete his building, but sold "the manor of Nazareth" to the Moravians, who finished the edifice. It is still standing, in the eastern border of the village. The Moravian Sisters of Bethlehem wrought an elegant banner, and presented it to Count Pulaski. A drawing of the banner, and the beautiful Consecration Hymn, written by Longfellow, will be found in another part of this work.
Passage through the Wind-gap—The great Walk.—Roscommon Tavern.—An Office-hunter.
abroad, and we were within half a mile of the Wind-gap. I again mounted the driver's box, for all around us Nature was displaying her attractions in the plenitude of her magnificence and beauty. Before us, and in close proximity, were the Blue Mountains, their summits curtained in a white fog that was rising toward the loftier clouds. Behind us, far down into the valleys and intervales, orchards, corn-fields, forests, and meadows were spread out like a carpet of mellow tints, and on every side the gentle breeze was shaking the rain-drops from the boughs in diamond showers, glittering in the first rays of the morning sun. While the bleating of sheep and the bellowing of cattle reminded us of cultivated fields behind us, the whirring of the pheasant, the drumming of the partridge, and the whistling of the quail among the rocks and lofty evergreens around betokened the uncultivated wilderness.