THE SOUTHERN CATSKILLS 



the fog in our front was swiftly whirled up by the 

 breeze, like the drop-curtain at the theatre, only 

 much more rapidly, and in a twinkling the vast gulf 

 opened before us. It was so sudden as to be almost 

 bewildering. The world opened like a book, and 

 there were the pictures; the spaces were without a 

 film, the forests and mountains looked surprisingly 

 near; in the heart of the northern Catskills a wild 

 valley was seen flooded with sunlight. Then the 

 curtain ran down again, and nothing was left but 

 the gray strip of rock to which we clung, plunging 

 down into the obscurity. Down and down we made 

 our way. Then the fog lifted again. It was Jack 

 and his beanstalk renewed ; new wonders, new 

 views, awaited us every few moments, till at last 

 the whole valley below us stood in the clear sun- 

 shine. We passed down a precipice, and there was a 

 rill of water, the beginning of the creek that wound 

 through the valley below ; farther on, in a deep 

 depression, lay the remains of an old snow-bank ; 

 Winter had made his last stand here, and April 

 flowers were springing up almost amid his very 

 bones. We did not find a palace, and a hungry- 

 giant, and a princess, at the end of our beanstalk, 

 but we found a humble roof and the hospitable heart 

 of Mrs. Larkins, which answered our purpose bet- 

 ter. And we were in the mood, too, to have under- 

 taken an eating-bout with any giant Jack ever 

 discovered. 



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