New-York is the grand rendezvous: once settled in our hotels, the splendid Astor, the comfortable American, the busy Irving, the gay New-York, or the quiet Union Place or Clarendon, the stranger has little desire to go further, until the last and imperative demands of Fashion compel him to abandon the study of those noble institutions we described in the last International, and to forego the observation of those great public works in which the energy of our rich men has flowered, or those appointments of Providence which render New-York a rival of Dublin, Naples, or Constantinople, in scenic magnificence.
Many indeed who come from distant parts of the country, linger all summer in the vicinity of the city, in the hottest days quitting Broadway for a sail or drive, to the Bath House, Rockaway, Coney Island, New Brighton, Long Branch, or Fort Hamilton, where they dine, or perhaps stay over night. At Fort Hamilton, indeed, Mr. Clapp is apt to keep those who venture into his hotel, with its luxurious tables, pleasant rooms, cool breezes from the ocean, and fair sights in all directions, for a much longer time; and every one of these places, in the hot months, has attractions that would make a visitor at the Spas of France, Germany, or Italy, could he wake in them, think he had eluded the watchful guard St. Peter keeps at the gateway of another retirement, to the which, it may be feared, the gay world has far less anxiety to go.
FORT HAMILTON HOUSE, LONG ISLAND.
PROPOSED SUMMER HOTEL AT THE HIGHLANDS OF NEVERSINK.
Ascending the Hudson, from the social metropolis of this continent, to which all "capitals" of states or nations, from Patagonia to Greenland, are in some way subject and tributary, the traveller finds the palace in which he rides, continually near embowered pavilions for the public, and clusters of private residences, which but add to their enjoyableness. Cozzens's Hotel at West Point, is perhaps as well known as any house of the same class in the world, and its picturesque situation, as well as the admirable manner in which it is kept, will preserve for it a place in the list of favorite resorts. The Catskill Mountain House, in the midst of grand and peculiar scenery, on the verge of a rock two thousand and five hundred feet above the Hudson—seen with its various fleets at a distance from the long colonnade—is thronged even more than West Point. There are other pleasant houses on the river, and many turn from its various points to visit newer or less crowded places than Saratoga along the lines of the western railroads, as Trenton Falls, Sharon Springs, or Avon, or further still, the towns by the borders of the great lakes.
CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE.
