54 With Feet to the Earth 



the ocean in bluffs of clay and gravel, I 

 left the mosquitoes behind me. 



Our Catskills are a delightful region for 

 the walker, after the summer idlers have 

 gone. Their romantic cloves are never 

 finer than when draped in the red and 

 orange of October, when mists surge, vol- 

 canic, from the peaks, when the Hudson 

 valley becomes a floor of cloud, along 

 whose surface, as across ice-filled waters 

 of the Arctics, you look for a hundred 

 miles. The Adirondacks are more elusive, 

 and many are misled by the careless spread- 

 ing of that term across the dull, rolling 

 country to the west of the mountains where 

 rich men have bought immense estates, 

 and where people go to shed the blood 

 of harmless animals. Noble scenery and 

 many natural delights are to be had in 

 parts of the Adirondacks, while poor 

 roads, crowded inns, extortionate prices, 

 and restricted views enable one to leave 

 some other parts of them without a pang. 



Until recently the White Mountains 

 have not had the popularity they deserve, 

 except among New Englanders, who have 



