56 RIVERBY 



the remains of an old snow-bank; Winter had made 

 his last stand here, and April flowers were spring- 

 ing up almost amid his very bones. We did not 

 find a palace, and a hungry giant, and a princess, 

 etc., at the end of our beanstalk, but we found a 

 humble roof and the hospitable heart of Mrs. Lar- 

 kins, which answered our purpose better. And we 

 were in the mood, too, to have undertaken an eat- 

 ing bout with any giant Jack ever discovered. 



Of all the retreats I have found amid the Cats- 

 kills, there is no other that possesses quite so many 

 charms for me as this valley, wherein stands Lar- 

 kins's humble dwelling; it is so wild, so quiet, and 

 has such superb mountain views. In coming up the 

 valley, you have apparently reached the head of civ- 

 ilization a mile or more lower down; here the rude 

 little houses end, and you turn to the left into the 

 woods. Presently you emerge into a clearing again, 

 and before you rises the rugged and indented crest 

 of Panther Mountain, and near at hand, on a low 

 plateau, rises the humble roof of Larkins, — you get 

 a picture of the Panther and of the homestead at one 

 glance. Above the house hangs a high, bold cliff 

 covered with forest, with a broad fringe of blackened 

 and blasted tree-trunks, where the cackling of the 

 great pileated woodpecker may be heard ; on the left 

 a dense forest sweeps up to the sharp spruce-covered 

 cone of the Wittenberg, nearly four thousand feet 

 high, while at the head of the valley rises Slide 

 over all. From a meadow just back of Larkins 's 

 barn, a view may be had of all these mountains, 



