But however his
memory may be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many
folk, whose good opinion is well worth having; particularly by certain
biscuit-bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on
their new-year cakes; and have thus given him a chance for
immortality, almost equal to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, or
a Queen Anne's Farthing.]
WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the
Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great
Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river,
swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding
country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed,
every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and
shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good
wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair
and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold
outlines on the clear evening sky; but, sometimes, when the rest of
the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors
about their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun,
will glow and light up like a crown of glory.
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