This first chain is said to be only 2,000 feet above the level of the sea; but it extends here further than the eye can reach, and is uniformly covered with verdant, primeval forests. It runs in the direction from north to south, and has no characteristically shaped peaks, or remarkable forms, so that there is nothing picturesque in the total effect. With the exception of some parts, especially the beautiful Catskill mountains, most of the landscapes of North America are characterized by this want of striking outlines, and this constitutes the great difference between them and [pg. 33] the views in Brazil, where the mountains and the outlines of the horizon are almost always marked by the most striking forms, as is usual in primitive mountains.
In the chain before us, we remarked an opening in a northerly direction, where the Delaware breaks through; this is called the Delaware Water Gap, or the Delaware Gap. It is twenty-three miles from Bethlehem, and was the place of our destination to-day. We were now two miles from it. After passing the little town of Williamsburg, we saw before us, almost in all directions, luxuriant verdant woods, and eminences rising behind each other. As our horses hastened to the valley, the height of the mountains seemed to increase. At length the bright Delaware appeared before us, and we soon reached its banks. The river here forms the boundary of Warren County in New Jersey. On the opposite side we perceived a large glasshouse, managed by Germans, called Columbia Glasshouse, where many who have possessed it have already become bankrupts.
As we approached this defile, we observed a water-snake swimming in the river, which suffered itself to be carried down with the stream, but disappeared as soon as we approached. We procured one on the following day, as they are not uncommon here.
We had now reached the mountain chain, which rose bold and steep on both sides, and at every step became more and more contracted. Just before the defile, or gap, is an inn, behind which, at the distance of hardly a couple of hundred paces, runs the steep rocky wall of grauwacke and clay slate, here the predominant kind of rock. This high wall is crowned on the summit with pines, and covered at the base with various other trees, while the middle part is naked and rugged. At the foot of the mountains are luxuriant fields and meadows, in which the fine cattle were grazing. From this spot the rocky wall approaches nearer and nearer to the river, the banks of which, rude and desolate, are covered with many broken trunks of trees confusedly thrown together, many of which were still lying in the water. This is the effect of the rising of the river, and the breaking-up of the ice in spring, which had caused more extensive damages in the spring of 1832 than on any former occasion within the memory of man. Where the banks of the river are flat and sandy, thickets of young planes often supply the place of the willows on the banks of our European rivers. The plane--called by the German inhabitants water maple, or water beech; by the Anglo-Americans, buttonwood, or sycamore--flourishes particularly near the water, or in low, moist situations, where it attains its colossal growth in perfection. These young planes, on the bank, were almost entirely stripped of their bark by the action of the water.