172 A BED OF BOUGHS. 



The surface rock is a coarse sandstone superin- 

 cumbent upon a lighter-colored conglomerate that 

 looked like Shawangunk grits, and when this latter 

 is reached by the water it seems to be rapidly disin- 

 tegrated by it, thus forming the deep excavations al- 

 luded to. 



My eyes had never before beheld such beauty in 

 a mountain stream. The water was almost as trans- 

 parent as the air was, indeed like liquid air ; and 

 as it lay in these wells and pits enveloped in shadow, 

 or lit up by a chance ray of the vertical sun, it was 

 a perpetual feast to the eye, so cool, so deep, so 

 pure ; every reach and pool like a vast spring. You 

 lay down and drank or dipped the water up in your 

 cup and found it just the right degree of refreshing 

 coldness. One is never prepared for the clearness 

 of the water in these streams. It is always a sur- 

 prise. See them every year for a dozen years, and 

 yet, when you first come upon one, you will utter an 

 exclamation ; I saw nothing like it in the Adiron- 

 dacks, nor in Canada. Absolutely without stain or 

 hint of impurity, it seems to magnify like a lens, so 

 that the bed of the stream and the fish in it appear 

 deceptively near. It is rare to find even a trout- 

 stream that is not a little " off color," as they say of 

 diamonds, but the waters in the section of which I 

 am writing have the genuine ray; it is the undimmed 

 and untarnished diamond. 



If I were a trout, I should ascend every stream tiL 

 I found the Rondout. It is the ideal brook. Wha> 



