"The sun, when obscured by the clouds, yet above
"Shines not the less bright, though unseen."
On Tuesday at five A.M. was roused to breakfast, and descended into the lower world to meet the Albany steamer.
I opened my casement and looked forth upon the ocean of mist, whose huge waves rose and fell as they kept rolling by. It seemed as though river, valley, and mountain had been overwhelmed by this restless deluge, whose course was yet unstayed. The sun as yet wanted the power to shine through the mist; all was dark, chilling, and almost fearful.
Before breakfast I had a last palaver with our guide; he said that the extreme denseness of the fog gave assured token of "an awful hot day."
At six A.M. our muster was completed, and the party for the lower regions duly told off. As the carriage slowly crept down some of the steepest portions of the tortuous way, time and opportunities were afforded to steal a look under the cloudy canopy which the sun was quickly drawing upwards, and thus good assurance was afforded that the guide had prognosticated rightly.
It did look "awful hot," to be sure; a golden-coloured haze seemed to float over the whole land like the subdued reflection of a bright flame. It made one feel uncomfortable to look upon the glowing landscape: the long snaky river gave no idea of coolness; it had a dead shiny look, only to be likened to a stream of molten lead.
Meantime we mournfully beheld the green moist leaves, the yet half-open buds, together with all the other pleasant signs of spring, vanish with our too hasty fall, and to these succeeded parched grass, dry yellow leaves, and sickly flowers drooping and over-blown.
At half-past ten we quitted Catskill in the steamer, and by half-after twelve were landed at Hyde Park. Mr. W——ks was awaiting our arrival, and a pair of his trotters soon set us down at his very pretty country-house, which is one of a cluster of charming residences scattered along this portion of the north bank of the river.