|
 |
Chapter 13
Sketches Continued
|
CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE
BY PARK BENJAMIN July, 1843.
'Tis pleasant, for awhile to leave the heated
pavements and the garbaged atmosphere of our ever-bustling, noisy
city; to bid adieu to the continued rumbling and rattling of all the
various vehicles that the worried horses are destined to drag in
merciless labor to and fro the city's length ; to shun the charcoal
vender's unearthly guttural; the cries of the newspaper urchins, more
varied in tone than the gamut's self; to flee from patients, clients,
patrons, and all the constant, never-varying avocations, that tend to
harass and perplex the lives of toiling citizens, and perch one's
self upon some mountainous elevation, where nature's calmness changes
the current of our thoughts, and turns them from the real and
artificial miseries of humanity. On such a spot we can enjoy an
inward elevation, partaking of the beauty and serenity of the scene,
and indulge the mind in instructive reflections upon the past, the
present, and the future.
It would seem that the great Creator of the
universe had built up this mighty eminence that man might know His
power, and, feeling his own insignificance, despise and shun the
vanities and hollow-heartedness of life. Here the belief is taught
that there is but one religion and one great family of mankind.
Station yourself upon that projecting rock that hangs in such
terrific altitude over the immense space beneath, but attempt not to
give utterance to your feelings-language could not express them. Have
you ever stood upon a vessel's deck, lashed to her for security, amid
the howling tempest's rage, the winds driving her into the sea's deep
chasms, and suspending her on the lofty pinnacle of the waves, the
lightning's flashes brightening the surrounding horrors, and showing
by its vivid glares the peril of your situation ? Have you ever known
the mightiness of the tempest's angry mood at such a moment, and felt
how utterly inadequate is speech ? If so, then stand upon this
high-poised rock and learn that it is not the awfully sublime alone
that seals the lips, but that nature in her calmest mood can subdue
the mind to silence.
The checkered scene below lies like the
loveliest meadow, in variegated patchwork. Hills have disappeared.
Here and there, apparently within a narrow lane, a mite is seen. It
is the vehicle of some sturdy farmer, drawn by his well-fed span,
measuring with rapid pace the broad highway leading to the distant
village, whose diminished spires decorate the landscape. Observe that
quiet stream attenuated to a brook. One bound would carry you to its
opposite bank, were it what it seems, and by that bound you would
leap the noble Hudson. See that tiny cloud-smaller than the puff just
issuing from your Havana-as it rises from the river's surface. That
speck beneath is speeding on its way with a velocity that gladdens
its living freight of anxious travellers, and yet to the eye it moves
not. Those far-off mountains, rising from the horizon in varied
obscure shapes and heights, belong to other States. The fleeting
clouds in graceful movement pass beneath you, dragging their
lengthened shadows over the colored plain, until nature's curtain,
being drawn, shuts out the view. And now the whole becomes one vast
fictitious sea, placing you in feeling Dear the ocean's level, and
relieving for a moment the nervous throbs the dizzy height
occasioned. Soon the clouds disperse, and separating in changing
forms, the quiet region underneath lies again before you in all its
beautiful and glorious sublimity. Such is nature's tableau. Why was
creation formed with features so imposing, but for man's great
benefit, that he might learn the power and majesty of the Omnipotent!
Come, then, ye multitudes of uneducated
mortals, and from this great book store your minds with deep
reflections, leading to wisdom and to happiness. |
