WARWICK WOODLANDS. 11 



sandy, and rough, and stony — for ten miles farther to New 

 Prospect. 



"Now you shall see some scenery worth looking at," 

 said Harry, as we started again, after watering the horses, 

 and taking in a bag with a peck of oats — "to feed at three 

 o'clock, Frank, when we stop to grub, which must do al 

 fresco — " my friend explained — "for the landlord, who 

 kept the only tavern on the road, went West this summer, 

 bit by the land mania, and there is now no stopping place 

 'twixt this and Warwick," naming the village for which 

 we were bound. "You got that beef boiled, Tim?" 



"Ay'd been a fouil else, and aye so often oop t' road 

 too," answered he with a grin, "and t' moostard is mixed, 

 and t' pilot biscuit in, and a good bit o' Cheshire cheese! 

 wee's doo. Ay reckon. Ha ! ha ! ha !" 



And now my friend's boast was indeed fulfilled; for 

 when we had driven a few miles farther, the country be- 

 came undulating, with many and bright streams of water; 

 the hill sides clothed with luxuriant woodlands, now in 

 their many-colored garb of autumn beauty ; the meadow- 

 land rich in unchanged fresh greenery — for the summer 

 had been mild and rainy — with here and there a buck- 

 wheat stubble showing its ruddy face, replete with promise 

 of a quail in the present, and of hot cakes in future; and 

 the bold chain of mountains, which, under many names, 

 but always beautiful and wild, sweeps from the Highlands 

 of the Hudson, west and southwardly, quite through New 

 Jersey, forming a link between the White and Green 

 Mountains of New Hampshire and Vermont, and the more 

 famous Alleghanies of the South. 



A few miles farther yet, the road wheeled round the 

 base of the Toume Mountain, a magnificent bold hill, with 

 a bare craggy head, its sides and skirts thick set with 

 cedars and hickory — entering a defile through which the 

 Ramapo, one of the loveliest streams eye ever looked upon, 

 comes rippling with its crystal waters over bright pebbles, 

 on its way to join the two kindred rivulets which form 

 the fair Passaic. Throughout the whole of that defile, 

 nothing can possibly surpass the loveliness of nature; the 

 road hard, and smooth, and level, winding and wheeling 

 parellel to the gurgling river, crossing it two or three 

 times iia each mile, now on one side, and now on the 

 other — the valley now barely broad enough to permit the 



