THE HEART OF THE SOUTHERN CATSKILLS 55 



first, but it rapidly grew, until it became several 

 rods in width. It dropped down from our feet 

 straight as an arrow until it was lost in the fog, 

 and looked perilously steep. The dark forms of the 

 spruce were clinging to the edge of it, as if reaching 

 out to their fellows to save them. We hesitated on 

 the brink, but finally cautiously began the descent. 

 The rock was quite naked and slippery, and only on 

 the margin of the slide were there any boulders to 

 stay the foot, or bushy growths to aid the hand. As 

 we paused, after some minutes, to select our course, 

 one of the finest surprises of the trip awaited us: 

 the fog in our front was swiftly whirled up by the 

 breeze, like the drop-curtain at the theatre, only 

 much more rapidly, and in a twinkling the vast gulf 

 opened before us. It was so sudden as to be almost 

 bewildering. The world opened like a book, and 

 there were the pictures; the spaces were without a 

 film, the forests and mountains looked surprisingly 

 near; in the heart of the northern Catskills a wild 

 valley was seen flooded with sunlight. Then the 

 curtain ran down again, and nothing was left but 

 the gray strip of rock to which we clung, plunging 

 down into the obscurity. Down and down we made 

 our way. Then the fog lifted again. It was Jack 

 and his beanstalk renewed; new wonders, new views, 

 awaited us every few moments, till at last the whole 

 valley below us stood in the clear sunshine. We 

 passed down a precipice, and there was a rill of water, 

 the beginning of the creek that wound through the 

 valley below; farther on, in a deep depression, lay 



