TOT ree > - in Peete Pps te ee ane Kah dallas 2 ae tigations eae iad en Luee yay ox am ats SreUUhLS CORNELL Pp H an ed oe > Z 5 > Pd < pd S = STEWART H. BURNHAM Cornell University Library PS 2698.R87R7 1855 “icin iin 3 1924 022 037 745 un 4 pee CVs Bc SALLE Vie THE ROMANCE Or AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. ROMANE E o 0 ay of <5 ~ Q_ : L % fe ef Ni f i X es ume ay i BS sat eae Eee THE ROMANCE oF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE BY T. ADDISON RICHARDS, N. A. ILLUSTRATED WITH SIXTEEN ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL. Hew Pork: LEAVITT AND ALLEN, No. 27 DEY STREET. 1855. oko LORS io LANE DEY VeP Ges te poy FS AOTE RPTKT [E55 A774722 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, By Leavitt anp ALLEN, In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. Buty & Baotuxrs, Printers and Sterootypore, 20 North William street, N.Y, ILLUSTRATIONS. 1. THE FALLS OF TALLULAH, GA,..........000085 va ee eee «FRONTISPIECE, & THE CATSKILES, No Vigvcdescdecvaveevseneaes seve siktneateces Tre. 3. ELKHORN PYRAMID, UPPER MISSOURI, ......... Froxrme Cxar. I. 4, THE PARK FOUNTAIN, N. Y.,....cccseceeeeeeeees “ “OL 5, BIRTH-PLACE OF WASHINGTON, VA.,.......0.005 “ “TI 6. WASHINGTON CROSSING THE ALLEGHANY, ..... “ “Iv, 7, GASCADH OF TUGOOA, GA, vccasescvevacserves es “ “ov, 8. CATARACT OF TALLULAH. No. 2, .....sseeseees “ “ VE 9. RIVER SCENE IN THE SOUTH-WEST,............ “ > “ VIL 10. TOWER ROCK, ON THE MISSISSIPPI,............ . « “VOL 11. BISON AND ELK, UPPER MISSOURI,........ Messer, “IX 12, THE OHIO: CAVE-IN-ROCK, .......0cececceeeeeees “ “OX 13. LAKE GEORGE: ROGERS'S SLIDE,..............0+ “ “XT. 14. LAKE IN THE ADIRONDACKS, N. Y.,........000. “ “XID 15, THE SUSQUEHANNA, PA,...... adesadesiorsuueees “ “XT. 16. THE CONNECTICUT RIVER, MASS, .............05 “ “XIV. In the following discursive pages the author has taken a brief, but he hopes an intelligent, glimpse at the varying characteristics of the beautiful natural scenery of our country. It has been his endeavour, throughout, so to relieve the gravity of fact with the grace of fiction, as to present at the same time an in- structive topography and an entertaining romance. The better to accomplish this difficult end, he has assem- bled around him a company of accomplished and genial travellers, who discuss the subject familiarly in all its phases, each from his own peculiar stand-point and after his own individuality. It is not necessary that the reader be here presented to these gentlemen, since they will shake him by the hand, and tell him what manner of men they are, in the first chapter,—which subserves the usual réle of a preface, but is too much an integral and important part of the narrative to be so called. ( 8 ) It is not the least of the author's hopes, that his labour may serve, in a humble measure, in the further development of the already very high appreciation of our wonderful scenery, and in the culture of the pop- ular love of that charming Art—which is, at the same time, its interpreter and its chronicler—the Art of the Landscape Painter, from the more legitimate study of which he has turned aside, in leisure hours, to this ac- cessory toil. And it is as such an accessory to the province of his own profession, rather than as a trespass upon the fields of the sister art of letters, that he thus ventures to: exhibit his work. Untversity, New Yorx, i July Ist, 1854, CONTENTS. CHAPTER I PAGE Re-union in the Author’s sanctum—His despondency, in view of the task before him—Sympathy of his friends, and cheering promises of assistance—The theme of his proposed book announced—The romance and the reality of American landscape: its physique and morale, its historic tradition, its poetic legend, its incident, adventure, and suggestion—General and hearty approbation in the assembly of the subject, and varied expression of opinion upon its importance, availability, and interest—Departure of the guests, with a pledge to reassemble at intervals, and aid the author with their respective knowledge and experience .........0ceccsscasecerecees 13 CHAPTER Ii. Second convocation of the Club—Selection, as the text ef the evening, of the picture of the Park Fountain—The Chairman’s histerie memories of foun- tains and aqueducts—Mr. Vermeille’s poetie view of the matter—History of the Croton Aqueduct--The pleasing and graphic material it offers for an autobiography—Mr. Flakewhite’s romance of “Taz Sanz or the Founram”— Mr. Brownoker’s droll anecdote of the “Man in the Fountain”............. 21 CHAPTER III. The party starts southward—Visit to Virginia—Extraordinary attractions of the historical associations of the country—The great men of Virginia—The birth-place of Washington; Mr. Blueblack’s visit to the spot—General absence of commemorative monuments in America; reflections upon the 10 CONTENTS. PAGE cause and consequence, importance and interest of such memorials, and illustrative anecdote by the Chairman—The extent, variety, and beauty of the scenery of Virginia; the springs, and western hills, and rivers—Megilp’s disastrous adventures in Weir’s Cave, and at the Natural Bridge—Blue- black’s tale of “Lrrrnz Evma Munnertr’-—Brownoker’s brief story of “Tom, Dick, and Harry, or Woman’s Constancy”.......20--eeeseeeseee 41 CIIAPTER IV. Still in Virginia—Gossip about the uses and pleasures of social re-unions— Mr. Deepredde’s reflections upon the historical incident of the “Crossing. of the Alleghany in the expedition of 1758 ;” his account of the adventure in the story of “Tox Man or Dory”—Flakewhite’s dramatic historiette of \ “QaBRInLiE DK St. PIERRE ciency i ccecctiwesieveratecvestieneceeevesecee 65 CHAPTER V. The travellers proceed to the Carolinas and Georgia—Conversation upon the prospects of art in America, and the influences at work for its development and advancement—Mr. Vermeille’s tale of “Tue Momenrs or THE Revonvrioy,” and Mr. Deepredde’s Mesmeric Visit to “Marcarer House;” sequels to the stories of ‘The Man of Duty” and “Gabrielle de St. Pierre’—Glimpses of the scenery of the South-eastern States, from the lowlands to the moun- tains—Halt at the Fatls of Toceoa—“Tar Otp Lecenp or Toccoa”....... 91 CHAPTER VI. The Falls of the Tallulah, in Georgia; offerings of the poets—Nacovchee, and other neighbouring beauties—Ignorance of the mountaineers in the South- east, and difficulties of travel—Megilp’s wicked tricks upon the natives—Mr. Brownoker’s exploits as a Frenchman—Flakewhite’s story of “Krrry, rm j Woopman’s Davcuter”........... bo4 BOE Saas wats Hale Seta CHAPTER VII. The South-west—Romantic adventures and sufferings of the early explorers— De Seto, and his companions—Mr. Asphaltum’s account of his visit to the Mississippi—Local oddities of Western character—Tale of “ Misrirrox TENCE “sraimncione cia ati a0 aiauaeaV sua ien aaa BENGEL Soe eo as Gay ve eevea Ae CONTENTS. CHAPTER VIII. 11 PAGE Tower Rock, on the Mississippi—Continuation and conclusion of the romance of “Misrzron HALL”... cee cece cece eens aie sinveinne b adiguoisiba neue elias CHAPTER IX. Progress of the Club to the Great West—Megilp’s recollections of the Missouri River; his adventures at the “Gates of the’Rocky Mountains”—The great Prairies—California and Oregon—Modes of hunting the bison—Megilp’s “First anp Last Burrato Hunt’..........- Sidvaraieinrere big bre sreceyaceiacaisies aac ate CHAPTER X. The West—The Ohio River and Diamond Island—Cave in the rock—Mammoth Cave—The rivers of Kentucky—Scenery of the States touching the north bank of the Ohio—Peep at Minnesota, Iowa, Michigan, Wisconsin, and the Great Lakes—Megilp’s adventure, which proves to be “Norme arrer ati!” CHAPTER XI. Return of the travellers to the North, and visit to Lake George—Extent and beauty of the lake—Scenery of New York and New England—Pre-eminence of Horicon—Its characteristics in relation to foreign lake-views—The moun- tain shores and islands of Horicon—Social pleasures of the region—Historic memories—Mr. Asphaltum’s story of “Tae Scour or Honicon, or Rogers's Sume”—Mr. Brownoker’s tale of “ Dramonp Istx, or Toe Stray GLove”..... 2 CHAPTER XII. Visit to the Adirondacks and the famous Sardnac Lake region—lIts celebrity for picturesque beauty, and for its capacity as a hunting and fishing ground —Boating on the mountain-lakes—A bear-adventure—Blueblack’s doleful encounter with a wild-cat, in the great Indian Pass—The hunters, and their manner of life—Anecdotes of a sporting parson—Adventurous passage through the woods, from the Saranacs to the Adirondacks—Mr. Asphal- tum’s recollections of “Tae Hermrr or THE ADIRONDACKS” .......... Powe 157 181 195 211 235 12 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIII. PAGE The Middle States—The Hudson—The Catskills; favourite summer studio of the artists: landscape-painters Cole, Durand, and others—The Erie Railway and the Delaware River—Valley of Wyoming and scenery of the Susque- hanna—The Juniata, the Schuylkill, and the Lehigh—Scenery of Delaware, New Jersey, and Maryland—Coal-beds and Canals of Pennsylvania—Tale of “Love's Lasour Won”—The Chairman’s narrative of “Mr, Brown’s Stratecy” 257 CHAPTER XIV. Our travellers and their wanderings, with a brief excursion into New England— Ease and profit of travel there—Partition of the route; Mr. Megilp retracing his rambles im Maine; Mr. Vermeille exploring the white hills and lakes of New Hampshire; and Mr. Flakewhite strolling lovingly amidst the rich valley-lands of the Housatonic and the Connecticut—Antiquity of New England; its stores of Indian and revolutionary reminiscence—Blueblack on the peaks of Mansfield and the Camel’s Hump, and in the valleys of Vermont—Brownoker’s merry experience of the social characters and habits of New England—His graphic report of the anniversary festival of the society of “Woman's Ricuts”—Mr. Megilp’s “Stent Mistaxe”—Farewell salutations of the guests, and the author's valediction...........s... eve 226 lay frend fee CHAPTER I. THE wit and wisdom of a pleasant circle of gay friends who, while they never exceed, yet always quite fill up, the limits of becoming mirth, had, through a long evening, dashed a flood of laughing sunshine upon the sombre-hued walls of our antique studio. The sparkling coruscations of their mad humour availed, however, but partially to exoreise the heavy shadows which hung like a pall over our usually buoyant spirits. One disquieting thought oppressed us, aid,.as usual, awakened our entire schedule of ugly remembrances, which to be sure had no earthly relation- ship to the first intrusive visitor, yet came in that hateful gre- garious spirit to which misery is proverbially grven. While the hours were flying in the«brilliant, yet, as it then seemed to us, bootless pleasure of social gosstp, we were thinking of duties _ deferred, of “time misspent, and fair occasions gone forever by ;” and in that wretched sate of mental Janguor, which though it sees, yet is too feeble to confront and conquer difficulty, we were dreaming of our neglected duties—to you, reader; of the ways and means of fittingly acquitting ourself of the task of preparing these pages; wondering how on earth we could possibly do the deed, and that, too, within the brief time which our publishers Oe 14 THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. allowed us. We half regretted that we had so rashly assumed the labour. We obeyed the behest of Sir Philip Sydney, to look within our own heart and write, but we found, like Sir Charles Coldstream when he gazed disgusted into the crater of Vesuvius, that there “was nothing in it!” We had recently laid aside that charming bouquet of “Passion Flowers” which had just blossomed so sweetly. in the literary parterre, and a lingering fragrance came to us, in the remembrance of the lines— “I never made a poem, dear friend, I never sat me down and said, This cunning brain and patient hand Shall fashion something to be read. “Men often came to me and prayed I should indite » fitting verse For fast or festival, or in- Some stately pageant to rehearse, (As if, than Balaam more endowed, I, of myself, could bless or curse.)” The bricks, we felt, should be made, but, alas! where was the straw? In brief, we suspected ourself of decided stupidity, and could, in no way, reason us out of the grateful conviction. Our evil mood, though not virulent enough to check the humour of our guests, was yet sufficiently evident to attract notice and to elicit sympathy. A dozen clever and ktnd doctors were anxiously occupied with our moral pulse. We explained our symptoms, and were soon cheered and flattered into a more quiet and hopeful state. sit “The waters of your fancy,” said Mr. Brownoker, “ will, by all hydraulic law, soon remount to the desired height; for, pardon the compliment, is not the reservoir lofty enough for all your needs? Some vulgar trash temporarily obstructs the econduit—a buckwheat cake too much at breakfast, perhaps, or THE MEETING OF THE TRAVELLERS, 15 wine and walnuts too abundant at dinner. Rest assured, my dear boy, that what is poetically called ‘a mind diseased,” is, in the vulgate, often nothing more than pork and beans ad nauseam. We'll soon blow away the blues, and bring you back to concert pitch !” ‘Remember Mrs. Chick, and ‘make an effort,’” said Mr. Brownoker. “You have but to meet the enemy and he is yours,” added Mr. Megilp. “Forget not Sir Joshua, ‘Nothing is denied to well-directed labour,’” said Deepredde. “Or Richelieu calling back the spent fire and energy of his early years, ‘In the bright lexicon of youth there’s no such word as fail.’” “The sacred text, ‘As thy day so shall thy strength be.’” “Ceesar, ‘ Veni, vidi, vicil’” Refreshed with this torrent of cheering words, our courage and hope were rapidly springing into life again, and when the last scrap of conclusive and flattering raillery, ‘Remember your- self, and ‘the country is safe!’” came to our ears, the stainless pages before us seemed Tapidly to pass from fair manuscript to corrected proof, and from proof to peerless volume. Countless editions followed each other through our brightening view, and for very modesty we closed our eyes upon “the opinions of the press.” “Your book shall be finished as speedily as Aladdin’s castle! We will all lend you a hand,” cried our guests. ‘“ We will have a literary ‘bee.’” , “You shall cut out the work and we will ‘play tailor to the Muses !’” “What is your theme? Not metaphysics—aye ?” “Not sermons?” : “Not politics?” 16 THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. “ Not temperance?” chimed in one upon another, the associated face sensibly lengthening the while. “By no means!” we hastened to explain. ‘ Neither phi- losophy, religion, nor morals. Heaven forbid! We have a more genial topic—the Romance and Reality of American Land- scape—its physique and morale, its historic tradition, its poetic legend, its incident, adventure, and suggestion. What say you to the text?” “You could not have a happier one, and we, learned in the book of Nature, are the very preachers to discourse thereon. Are not you, yourself, are we not all, painters and poets— life-long worshippers of Nature? Have we not laid our souls upon her sacred altar? Do we not ken her in all her thousand mystic utterances, and will she not lend us the living inspiration of her smile as we seek to chant her praise? Verily a noble text, and now for the heads of the sermon!” “Our publishers,” we explained, ‘are happily possessed of a portfolio of pictures of many of the most charming and famous “bits of American scenery—a portfolio which they laudably desire to give to the world—and we are pledged to play master of ceremonies on the occasion, to expatiate upon the panorama as it passes.” “ A pleasant task enough, in which, as we have said, we will all assist you. In our periodical conclaves here we will take subject after subject, and eath one shall give up that which is most within him of his experience, adventure and imaginings of the several seenes. We could not have more delightful occupation as we sip our sherry and puff our havanas. As old Phocylides says— “Tis right for good wine-bibbing people Not to let the jug pace round the board like a cripple, But gaily to chat while discussing their tipple.” THE ROUTE AND ITS PLEASURES, 17 “Nothing could be more agreeable,” said Mr. Vermeille, “than, while sitting arouud our winter fire, to live our joyous summer rambles over again, to retrace our merry courses from Maine to Texas, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. We will emerge from the rank everglades of Florida and watch the buffalo as they scour the boundless prairie. ‘Look from the proud summit of Mount Washington over the waters of Winni- piseogee and Squam, across valley and hill, village and city, to the ocean-bounded horizon. From the lyric peaks of the Catskills we will scan the windings of the peerless Hudson. On the Adirondacks we will drink in the beauties of Horicon and Champlain, and the verdant sweeps of the green hills. Our barque shall thread the tortuous path of the Mississippi and the Missouri. We will repose ourselves by prattling cascade, or listen to the sterner voice of Niagara ‘pouring its deep eternal bass in Nature’s anthem.’ ‘Lord! what a tramp we'll have!’” “We will rekindle our fancies,” added Mr. Flakewhite, “with the wild legends which the red man has bequeathed to the scenes of his lost home, and strengthen our patriotism and virtue with remembrances of the gallant deeds of Trenton, Saratoga, Yorktown, Champlain, Bennington, and many other consecrated fields.” “Tf our scene,” said a sculpturing friend, who had just returned to us after a long sojourn in Hurope, “were but laid amidst the storied haunts of the Old World, and our characters culled from its peculiar and picturesque populations, we should have more plastic material to work with than we shall find in the rugged quarries of this new land, untutored by the touch of Art, unsoftened by the breath of Time; and a people too active and practical for poet’s uses.” “A mistaken notion of yours, my dear friend,” rejoined Mr. Flakewhite. “TI grant you that, to the common eye and feel- ing, the story of our battle-fields, the freshness and newness of 18 THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. our natural scenery, may seem tame, wanting the poetic veil of distance; may be belittled by its contemporary character; but we, I hope, are men of larger yision, possessed of that unpre- Judiced and prophetic spirit which, like the catholic power of love, ‘lends a precious seeing to the eye;’ revealing to us the immortal essence of actions and things, stripped of all passing, degrading accessories. It is only your shallow-pated fellow for whom ‘too much freedery breeds despise.’ “Tt is in the very freshness you condemn, added to the grandeur, scope, and vigour of our landscape, and to the same qualities in the morale of our people, that our strength lies: qualities pointing to a larger humanity, and to a higher and nobler civilization, than the world has yet been blessed with. We, as poets and artists, are favoured in being called upon to water this grander spirit rather than to expound the meaner though more dainty aims of the old art and thought. “Now, last, though not least, were our land, in poetic and philosophic inspiration, a thousand times behind all other climes, rather than so gloriously before them, is it not our own land; and is not the offering of our love and service a duty, no less than a delight? se QO, my native land! How shouldst thou prove aught else but dear and holy To me, who from thy Iakes and mountain Bills, Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas, Have drunk in all my intellectual life, All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts, Al¥ adoration of the God in Nature; All lovely and all honourable things— Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel The joy and greatness of its future being. = There lives not form, ner feeling in my soul, Unborrowed from my country !’” THE ROUTE AND ITS PLEASURES. 19 “But, will our subject, think you, interest the popular heart?” asked Mr. Brownoker. “Nothing more so,” responded Mr. Deepredde, “ for it touches a gentle and universal chord in the human soul. Since the halcyon days when Adam and Eve rejoiced with exceeding joy beneath the’ glorious skies of “Paradise, Nature has ever shared bountifully in the love and adoration of man. This feeling is an instinct, no less than a refinement, in our souls. The degraded Guebre, and the poor Indian, with untutored mind, worship the elemental principles of Nature, bowing down in mystic rite to the sacred fire, or gazing up, with rapt vision, to the throne of the Great Spirit, the blazing sun; the wretched negro no less, as he bows to the god of poisons, enshrined in the foliage of the poison tree, or prostrates himself before the omnipotence of the waters, in his prayers to the crocodile; so, too, the followers of Zoroaster, kneeling in the free and unpol- luted air of the grand mountain tops. “From the lowliest to the loftiest spreads this all-pervading love. ‘He,’ says Pindar, ‘deserves to be called the most excel- lent, who knows most of Nature.’ ‘Nothing,’ Cicero tells us, ‘is so delightful in literature, as that branch which enables us to discern the immensity of Nature, and which, teaching us magnanimity, rescues the soul from obscurity.’ Horace dis- dained the glitter of Augustus’s court, in the quiet of his Sabine home. Then we hear of the ‘Olive-grove of Academe, Plato’s retirement, where the attic bird _Trills her thick warbled notes the summer long,’ Where and when, indeed, have greatness or goodness astonished and blessed the world, unnurtured by the sacred manna which Nature, in her varied forms, provides?” At this point of his discourse, Mr. Deepredde was suddenly 20 THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. brought up by a sacrilegious hint that the small hours were coming; and a general movement among our guests ensued. “A Mercredi!” said one of us. “We will not fail you!” cried another. “Have your portfolio ready,” advised a third. “With the especial subject of the evening,” said a fourth. “And we will each weave around it our garland of fact and fiction,” promised a fifth. ‘And our word for it!” sang out the last, as his form vanished in the outer darkness, “enough copy shall be elicited to satisfy the cravings of the most carnivorous ‘devil’ that ever worried the soul of poor author: and of a quality, too, let us flatter ourselves, to win the patient ear of many a pleased reader.” CHAPTER II. _Ow the appointed evening, our impromptu committee re-as- sembled. Mr. Deepredde was called to the chair, and the minutes of the previous meeting—that is, dear reader, the fore- going chapter—were read and “ordered to be printed.” The portfolio was opened, and we selected from its stores the accompanying charming picture of the famous Park fountain: ‘We cannot do better than thus begin at home,” observed an original and profound thinker. ‘Let us avoid the vulgar error of undervaluing those beauties and delights which lie within our daily reach.” “ Fountains,” solemnly observed the respected chairman, by way of initiating the subject of the night, “have from the remotest periods, and among all people, been objects of especial interest. In varied shape and costliness, they embellished all the chief towns of ancient Greece. Old Pausanius has left us accounts of many of these favourite structures. Among others, he men- tions a most remarkable one at Epidemus, in the sacred grove of Esculapius; and two yet more interesting at Messena, loved by the populace under the names of Arsinoe and Clepsydra. We read also of beautiful fountains in the city of Megara, in 22 THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. Achaiai; of the famous Pirene at Corinth, encitcled by a marble wall sculptured with various grottoes, from which the waters flowed; and of the Leina, also at Corinth, surrounded by a grand portico, under which were seats for the public ease and comfort in the sultry summer evenings. “All of us have delighted our fancies, and many of us have blessed our vision, with these rich and classic altars of the water sprite in the art and nature-loving land of Italy. For my own part, though Pope seems to think it but a shabby sort of warming ‘to think on the frightful Caucasus,’ yet on many a scorching August night, in this salamander town of ours, I have cooled my brow and brain with the remembered sparkles and breezy drippings of the merry waters by St. Peter's, at Frescati, and Termini, and Mount Janiculum; in the dreamy gardens of the Belvidere, and at the lovely villas of Aldobran- dini and the Borghese. “YT doubt not that we all cherish equally grateful recollec- tions of the fountained beauties of Paris—that city of fountains —a, title, let me observe, en passant, which I trust our own goodly city of Gotham will one day successfully dispute; for surely, to speak. after the manner of rude men, ‘she has got it in her.’ As I was saying, though, we have lingered many a happy hour in the sweet watered groves and wilds of Ver- sailles, lounged delighted at St. Cloud, or strolled with outward and inward satisfaction through the passages of the Tuileries.” “Our respected chairman, in his learned remarks,” observed Mr. Vermeille, “has touched upon the poetry and sentiment of eur theme, though very much more might be said on this head: much more (as frightened eyes glanced from all sides of the table) than I have any thought of now saying. That first and most perfect of women, our great mother, Eve, made her sinless toilet in the mirroring waters, The whispers of the fountain fell in cadence with the love-songs of Jacob and FOUNTAINS.—THE CROTON. 28 Rebecca. It was by the fountain side that our Saviour dis- coursed to the Samaritan woman. Fountains are associated with countless beautiful incidents and histories in the life of mankind. They have ever been a treasured theme and simile of the poets. The sacred writers forever sing of the fountains. Shakspeare alludes to them continually; so Milton, Sidney, Shelley, and indeed all who have ever uttered the breathings of truth and beauty.” “ Before we fall into too discursive a gossip,” said a brother of an inquiring turn of mind, “would it not be well to glance at the genealogy of our theme, by a brief review of the history of its great source, the immortal Croton ?” A general nod of approbation followed this suggestion, and all eyes turned intuitively to the chair, “Not to trespass upon your time, gentlemen,” commenced Mr. Deepredde, “I will say nothing of the achievements of the Egyptians under Sesostris; of Semiramis, in Babylonia; of the Israelites in the days of Solomon and Hezekiah; or of other stupendous aqueducts of ancient art and enterprise; but come at once to our own—a work which, in magnitude and value, may rank with the trophies of any period. As long ago as 1798, Dr. Joseph Brown proposed to supply our city with water by bringing the river Bronx to Harlem in an open canal, raising it to the required height by steam, and conduoting it to the town in a six-inch pipe.” “The doctor was an old fogy!” interrupted a progressive gentleman. “The Bronx and a six-inch pipe! pooh !” “True,” resumed the chairman, “that was the day of small things; but still we must not be unmindful of the Doctor: he planted the humble seed from which has grown the sturdy Croton. This seed first shot up under the culturing hand of our honoured fellow-citizen, Colonel De Witt Clinton, in the year 1832. In 1885 the bud was fully formed, and on the Fourth 24. THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. of July, 1842—many of you remember the merry day and its rejoicings, gentlemen—the great work was completed; and, with music. and merriment, the Croton Lake, forty long miles away, was escorted over hill and valley to the firesides of our people, and endowed forever with the freedom of the city. This intro- duction, gentlemen, cost us some twelve millions of dollars.” “Tt has just occurred to me, Mr. Chairman,” said Mr. Ver- meille, “that should either of us be in want of a theme for our muse, we might happily find it in an autobiography of the Croton. What an epitome of human happiness and’ misery its varied story would present! What changeful experiences it must gather in its passage from the . peaceful seclusion of its native hills through the thousand scenes of joy and sorrow, of virtue and vice, which it sees within the voiceless walls of this mad capital, to its final home in the great ocean of waters. Here, with gentle sympathy and. sweet hope, it kisses the sinless brow of the babe at the holy font, and there sighingly seeks to cool: the fevered tongue of the dying sinner. Now it gives hearty greeting to the thirsty labourer, sings gaily in his humble kettle, boils his frugal dinner with a will, and anon, it shrinks from the hated association with the poisoned cup of the drunkard! Oh! a merry elf—a sorrowing slave—is the Croton!” “You remember, gentlemen, no doubt,” said Mr. Flakewhite, “that egraphic Croton story of Hoffman’s, called the ‘Man in the Reservoir,’ in which he so thrillingly and philosophically analyzes the varying emotions of his hero, plunged beyond help in the deep waters, and hour after hour, in the silent night, vainly seeking a means of ascent in the steep mural banks!” “A capital and most effective picture! Apropos, are there no legends or tales associated with the history of our fountain, or has its life been too brief to gather them ?” “Enough, and winsome ones too, without doubt, if it could but speak -for itself.” THE SMILE OF THE FOUNTAIN. 25 “Poor thing! Will not some imaginative brother speak for it? Brownoker, suppose you concoct us a——” “ Punch ?” “No, a romance. It is quite in your line.” “Not for the present occasion. The story of our fountain should be one of dainty sentiment. Flakewhite is your man.” “Well, gentlemen,” said Mr. Flakewhite at length, and after much persistence on the part of his friends, “‘as my turn must come at some time, I submit. ,I do not vouch for the literal truth of what I am about to say to you. I tell the tale simply as it—comes to my fancy. Listen then to the romance of Che Smile of the Fountain, “Not many years ago, a young lad came from the seclusion of the country to this bustling city, in confident quest of fame and fortune. This was no strange occurrence. Hundreds are thus daily coming, and disappointment, only, is but too often the sad reward of their bright and credulous hopes. Our hero was not of these unfortunates. He was doomed to struggle no less than they; but not, like them, to sink in the trial. He came unknown, unfriended, and with empty purse. He felt the cold charities of the rude world, and ate the bread of bitterness, He swallowed to the dregs the cup of hope deferred and toil too long unrewarded. His ambition was to be a painter; and though his sensitive and haughty spirit illy brooked the: slavish labour, yet want and necessity compelled him to perform the humblest services—the lowest drudgery—of his art. “He was a youth of strong heart and brave will. He was possessed of all that subtile delicacy and spirituality of feeling, that romance and beauty of soul, which instinctively seeks com- 26 THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. munion with all-that is most gentle and exalted in our nature, and which finds its development in thought and ‘action far above the common interests and pursuits of men; yet no less was he imbued with that practical and philosophic spirit which, though it be but for the end’s sake, rightly estimates the value of the humble means by which the loftiest, no less than the lewliest, success must be won. He was eager to reach the goal, yet patient in the race. His gaze soared to heaven, but he forgot not the earth which sustained his feet. “Day after day, and, indeed, year upon year, he pursued his silent toil, renewing his hope and ‘strength in communion with the pure and beautiful spirit of Nature as often as his wearying labours permitted. him to seek the home of his heart in the sunlight and shade of the country. When, in process of time, the gay prattle of the new Park Fountain one bright sunny morning startled his wondering ears, in the very midst of the dull scenes of his daily life, his heart leaped up with the dancing waters, and their joyous voice spoke to his soul then, as ever after, in glad whispers of sympathy and hope. It brought back to his remembrance the smiling eyes of the mother he would never see again; of the home from which he was an exile. It filled his spirit with indescribable emotions of pleasure, and, from that hour forth, exercised over him a strange and irresistible fascination. It was the bright far-off star of his wonder and love, bending down to his ear in familiar converse. No matter for cold or hunger, for exhaus- tion or despondency, he was ever, in ‘his leisure hours, at early morn, and in the waning night, invincibly drawn by the magic spell of the fountain. The edge of the murmuring basin grew to be his home. Here he would sit through unobserved hours, gazing upwards at the pearly drops, or down into the darker floods, seeing, in each, fantastical or profound minglings of the light and shade of life. Many a touching history of joy and THE SMILE OF THE FOUNTAIN. 27 sorrow, many an earnest lesson of cheer and of chiding, he read in this mystic page; and though sometimes the sadder, he yet grew ever wiser and stronger by their teachings. “One quiet summer evening, thus musing in pleased abstrac- tion, his face grew beautiful with the light of pleasure as his eye caught the reflection of a smile, sweeter than often blesses either the waking or sleeping vision of the dreamer. More than once before he had seen this spirit of the waters—for spirit only he seemed to think it, since it never had occurred, to him to look up for the original of the sweet face. I know not how long he might now have continued to gaze upon the beauteous image, had not a light, merry laugh at his side tecalled him to earth, and revealed to his startled perceptions the living form of the fair being whom he had worshipped only as a dream. ‘Frederic Marzan—so was the youth named—hbowed slightly, half involuntarily, and half as in apology for the temerity of his intent gaze. “You are a devoted dreamer, sir,’ said the lady. ‘I have been looking in vain for the object of your search in the fountain. Pray, may I ask what you see there so charming?’ “A vision of beauty, madam,’ answered Frederic, his truant speech quickly brought back by her gay and cordial voice and manner, and speaking with his wonted grace and gallantry, though with an earnestness and truth of expression not always the soul of such graces—‘a vision, madam, scarcely less fixed in my memory and fancy, now that I look upon your living face, than when I watched its smile in the fountain.’ “The lady laughed merrily, though evidently not displeased with the bold compliment. “Your courtesy, sir, is as graceful as it is long delayed,’ she rejoined, in a voice of frank coquetry which her patrician face and bearing could well afford. ‘I have often stood by 28 THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE. your side here, wondering what odd confidences you and the fountain were exchanging—what mad tales you were telling each other; yet never until now have you deigned to honour me with any consciousness of my presence.’ ‘““¢T never, madam, dreamed that the sweet smile that I beheld in the water was more than the image of my own teeming fancy. It ever brought in its train such a retinue of absorbing and happy thoughts and desires, as completely: to withdraw my mind from all the actual about me.’ “*T am sorry then that I have broken the spell and released you from its grateful enchantment. Yet,’ she continued, in a more serious tone, not unmingled with a feeling of thoughtful sadness, as she glanced at the threadbare attire and the anxious face of the friendless student, ‘I do you a good service in calling you back to earth. It is not well, nor wise, for you to waste your hours in dreams, still idle and profitless, bright and winsome as they may be. Your fortunes seem yet to be made, and to be awaiting none but your own strong and will- ing hands. This enchanted land is not the place for you, Sir Pilgrim. You should be in the busy, acting world. Musing and dreaming are in fitting measure the nurse of achievement; in excess, they only kill. Gather strength and purpose at the fountain, if you will; but do not, too, spend it there’ “As the lady spoke, our hero’s surprise at the unexpected seriousness of her speech, and at the grave character of her rebuke and counsel, half restrained the feelings of wounded pride which were gathering in his breast. Still, there was no little haughtiness in his voice and manner, as he replied— “*You misjudge me, madam. I do not spend strength and purpose here. Frederic Marzan is not of the vile herd who basely sigh for what they dare not seize. As you think, my fortunes are yet to be built, and by my own unaided strength, I ask no mean prize in the world’s gift, and I will have my THE SMILE OF THE FOUNTAIN. 29 asking! We may meet again, when you will not thus unjustly rebuke me.’ “tT do not doubt it,’ said the young girl, looking stead- fastly into our hero’s eyes, sparkling with haughty pride and high resolve. “Forgive my grave and gratuitous lecture,’ she continued gaily, and kindly extending her hand, as she at length yielded to the impatience of her cavalier to resume their walk. “