'Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis!
Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis!
Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem!'
--the 'nobis' to include the poor lambs.
At the first turn in the road we passed a great bowlder, known
throughout the country as 'the big rock.' Beside the highway flows the
Red Kill, a tributary of the Schoharie. There are some trout in it, but
a couple of cotton factories have frightened them nearly all away. A hot
political discussion soon arose among the inside passengers. Our driver
seemed to think loud and angry words quite out of place, and said: 'I am
a Democrat myself, but the other day I had a talk with the Republican
tax collector of our place, and I concluded we both wanted about one
thing--the good of our country. _Honest_ Republicans and _honest_
Democrats are not so far asunder as people usually think.'
Mountain after mountain stretched away to north, south, east, and west,
blue or green, bright or dark, as distance or the shadows of the
beautiful cumulus clouds severally affected them. Up, up we wound, the
merry kill dancing beside us, and the air growing fresher and more
elastic with every foot of ascent. The country is quite well settled,
and we rose through Red Falls and Ashland to Windham, a long,
peculiar-looking town, where we dined, and exchanged our two stages for
a large one seating eighteen persons (inside and out), and drawn by four
fresh steeds. The mountains grew wilder, the air cooler, and finally
Windham High Peak or Black Head, a great round-topped peak, appeared on
the right. A party from Albany had that day gone up. No water can be
found near the top. This is thought to be the loftiest summit of the
range (3,926 feet), but our new driver said there was another peak
toward the southwest, which he fancied higher.
In the cleft between Windham High Peak and the mountain to the north,
runs the road, which suddenly emerges from the defile and overlooks the
open country. We here find no long cleft as in the Kauterskill,
Plattekill, and Stony Cloves, but the highway descends along the face of
the mountain slope. The first view is toward the northeast, and, of a
clear day, must be very fine. The distance was hazy, but the atmospheric
effects on the near mountains only the more beautiful. The road is
generally through cleared lands, so that the view is constantly visible,
and continually opening out toward the south. Acra, Cairo, and Leeds
were all passed through, and Catskill reached about half past six in the
evening. Kiskatom Round Top rose round and dark to the south of Cairo,
whence also the entire western slope of the Catskills was plainly
visible, a soft, flowing, and tender outline. Near Leeds, on the
Catskill Creek, are some curious rocks. We had changed drivers at Cairo.
The new one was a jollier specimen of humanity than any I had yet seen;
he evidently loved good living, and would not refuse a glass of grog
when off duty. His team was named Lightfoot, Ladybird, Vulture, and
Rowdy, and was coaxed along with gentle words, as: 'Go on, little ones!'
'Get up, lambs!' and similar endearing appellations.
The sunset was glorious. Round Top and Overlook were bathed in purple
red; crimson clouds hung over the North and South Mountains, while Black
Head and the surrounding summits were partly obscured, partly thrown out
by heavy storm clouds.
The night was sultry, and the succeeding morning opaque with an August
fog. Rising early, I sat upon the upper gallery of the little Catskill
inn, and watched the manners and customs of the street corners. An old,
one-armed man, with a younger and more stalwart, appeared at a sort of
chest counter, covered by a bower of green boughs, and drew out two
tables, which were then placed at the edge of the pavement. The chest
was unlocked, and forth came several bushels of potatoes, three or four
dozen wilted ears of corn, two squashes (one white and one orange),
three half-decayed cabbage heads, a quantity of smoked sturgeon, a dish
of blueberries, and a great pan of blackberries. These dainties were
arranged and rearranged upon the tables, to make them look as attractive
as possible, and then left to the sun, the dust, and the flies, to
improve as they best might. Weary hours passed, and customers came
slowly in. At one o'clock, when I left, about half the original stock
remained. On the opposite corner was a group of children struggling for
the possession of two lively kittens: wrangling, coaxing, defying,
yielding, and pouting, gave animation to a scene, in which a pretty,
saucy girl, and a lazy, lordly lad were the principal actors. Down came
the lawyer to the fat, sleek, clean-looking negro barber, to be shaved,
and then away up to the court house, with a jaunty, swinging,
self-satisfied air, that said plainly enough--'Find me a smarter man
than I, will you?' A tipsy porter came staggering under a load for the
down boat; a dusty miller wended his way to a flour store; a little
contraband carried home a fish as long as himself; an indignant, dirty,
black-bearded mulatto cursed at his recent employer, whom he accused of
having defrauded him of his wages; a neat, trig damsel tripped by in
cool morning dress; a buxom dame, unmistakeably English, in great round
hat, brim about a foot radius, swept past the humble market stand; a
natty storekeeper came to his door, and looked out for customers; a
servant lass, sent out with a pretty child in a little wagon to purchase
a newspaper, stopped at a milliner's to read some interesting item to
the shop girl; two young officers, in gay new uniforms, sauntered by; a
crippled soldier hobbled along on a crutch, stages rushed down from the
mountains, parties in buggies and on horseback flew past, the dust
thickened, the sun came out clear and burning, the din increased, and I
went down to the little parlor in search of shade and quiet.
At one the stage for the Mountain House started. The passengers had
already waited three hours for the arrival of the down boat, delayed by
the fog. They were consequently in no very cheerful frame of mind, and
grumbled and growled all the way up the mountain. The day was very warm
(94° in the shade), the horses were wearied out by so many journeys up
and down, and the five outside and two inside gentlemen seemed by no
means willing to relieve their aching limbs and panting hearts. When we
reached the steep portion of the ascent, not a single one offered to
walk. I felt ashamed--three were Germans, and four my own countrymen. Of
the inside ladies, one was German, and four were Americans. In vain did
the mountains, with alternate sun and shadow, shining slopes and
passionate thunder clouds, don their loveliest aspect. Though never up
before, the young German lady and one of the New Yorkers _read_ nearly
the whole way to the summit; another lady kept down her veil, and
refused to look out, because it was _so_ sunny; the German youth slept,
and one only of the inside passengers seemed to feel any real interest
in the beautiful and gradual unveiling of the mysteries of these noble
hills. When about half a mile above the toll-gate, the horses stopped
to rest, and I could no longer endure the idea of their straining up the
steep declivity under so heavy a load. I asked a gentleman to open the
door for me, as I would walk a way, and thus relieve the poor animals of
at least one hundred and ten pounds. Walk I did, but not a single
individual followed my example. Heavy drops began to fall, the thunder
muttered, and I reached Rip Van Winkle's fabled retreat barely in time
to escape a wetting. As the stage came lumbering up with its load of
stout, well-fed men, a young woman in the little hut called out: 'Just
see them _hogs_ on top of that coach!'
Whether the gentlemen heard her, I know not, but the rain having ceased,
all left the top of the vehicle and walked thence to the Mountain House.
I reached the Laurel House in the early twilight, and thus happily ended
my three days' journey.