Such was the unchanging song of myriads of these little creatures for hours at a time; and to this was added the chirping of grasshoppers and locusts, and a perpetual accompaniment of the shrill little shriek of tree-toads.
The lovely autumn evening, a pleasant sail on the Sound, the green foliage of the trees, and these little insect-songs were refreshing to me after our rough and rolling experiences on the Atlantic.
LETTER No. VIII.
Up the Hudson River—The Catskills—My first chipmunk—"The Rip Van Winkle"—"Sleepy Hollow"—The Mountain-House Hotel—Old Indian squaw-spirit—A snake in the grass—A painting by Holbein.
Catskill Mountains, Sept., 1885.
After a short time in New York, agreeably spent in spite of the heat, we started early one bright morning on the splendid river steamer "Albany" up the noble Hudson River. It is no part of my plan or my duty to describe the innumerable objects, historical and picturesque, which command this wonderful river. Why should I attempt to describe or even to mention points so fully and so well described elsewhere? All I aspire to record is the passing impression of whatever comes under my own notice or interests me as a rapid traveller; it would be presumption to do more.
The chief object and ultima Thule of my wanderings is that little log shanty built by my boy thousands of miles away in the heart of the Rocky Mountains—but our plan is to take in our way as much of this great country as our limited time will permit.