IN THE CATSKILLS 



The rocks on the tops of these mountains are 

 quite sure to attract one's attention, even if he have 

 no eye for such things. They are masses of light red- 

 dish conglomerate, composed of round wave-worn 

 quartz pebbles. Every pebble has been shaped and 

 polished upon some ancient seacoast, probably the 

 Devonian. The rock disintegrates where it is most 

 exposed to the weather, and forms a loose sandy and 

 pebbly soil. These rocks form the floor of the coal 

 formation, but in the Catskill region only the floor 

 remains; the superstructure has never existed, or 

 has been swept away; hence one would look for a 

 coal mine here over his head in the air, rather than 

 under his feet. 



This rock did not have to climb up here as we 

 did; the mountain stooped and took it upon its back 

 in the bottom of the old seas, and then got lifted up 

 again. This happened so long ago that the mem- 

 ory of the oldest inhabitants of these parts yields no 

 clew to the time. 



A pleasant task we had in reflooring and reroofing 

 the log-hut with balsam boughs against the night. 

 Plenty of small balsams grew all about, and we soon 

 had a huge pile of their branches in the old hut. 

 What a transformation, this fresh green carpet and 

 our fragrant bed, like the deep-furred robe of some 

 huge animal, wrought in that dingy interior! Two 

 or three things disturbed our sleep. A cup of strong 

 beef -tea taken for supper disturbed mine; then the 

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