The dawn! And now for a sunrise picture among the mountains, with all the illusive performances of the mists and clouds. He comes! he comes! the “king of the bright days!”
Now the crimson and golden clouds are parting, and he bursts on the bewildered sight. One moment more, and the whole earth rejoices in his beams, falling alike, as they do, upon the prince and the peasant of every land. And now, on either side and beneath the sun, an array of new-born clouds are gathering, like a band of cavaliers, preparing to accompany their leader on a journey. Out of the Atlantic have they just arisen; at noon they will have pitched their tents on the cerulean plains of heaven; and when the hours of day are numbered, the far-off waters of the Pacific will again receive them in its cool embrace.
Listen! was not that the roar of waves? Naught but the report of thunder in the valley below. Are not the two oceans coming together? See! we are on a rock, in the midst of an illimitable sea, and the tide is surely rising—rising rapidly! Strange! it is still as death, and yet the oceans are covered with billows. Lo! the naked masts of a ship, stranded on a lee-shore; and yonder, as if a reef were hidden there to impede their course, the waves are struggling in despair, now leaping to the sky, and now plunging into a deep abyss! And when they have passed the unseen enemy, how rapid and beautiful are their various evolutions, as they hasten to the more distant shore.
Another look, and what a change! The mists of morning are being exhaled by the risen sun; already the world of waters is dispersed, and in the valley of the Hudson, far far away, are reposing all the enchanting features of the green earth.
We descended the mountain by a circuitous route, that we might enjoy the luxury of passing through Plauterkill Clove. The same spring that gives rise to Schoharie Creek, which is the principal tributary of the Mohawk, also gives rise to the Plauterkill. In its very infancy it begins to leap and laugh with the gladness of a boy. From its source to the plain, the distance is only two miles, and yet it has a fall of twenty-five hundred feet; but the remainder of its course, until it reaches the Esopus, is calm and picturesque; and on every side, and at every turn, may be seen the farm-houses of a sturdy yeomanry.