Their wool, of a clear tawny color, with streaks of
glistening black--altogether a queer sight amidst that crowded
promenade of dandies, dollars and dry-goods.
UP THE HUDSON TO ULSTER COUNTY
_April 23._--Off to New York on a little tour and visit. Leaving the
hospitable, home-like quarters of my valued friends, Mr. and Mrs. J.
H. Johnston--took the 4 P. M. boat, bound up the Hudson, 100 miles
or so. Sunset and evening fine. Especially enjoy'd the hour after
we passed Cozzens's landing--the night lit by the crescent moon and
Venus, now swimming in tender glory, and now hid by the high rocks and
hills of the western shore, which we hugg'd close. (Where I spend the
next ten days is in Ulster county and its neighborhood, with frequent
morning and evening drives, observations of the river, and short
rambles.)
_April 24--Noon._--A little more and the sun would be oppressive. The
bees are out gathering their bread from willows and other trees. I
watch them returning, darting through the air or lighting on the
hives, their thighs covered with the yellow forage. A solitary robin
sings near. I sit in my shirt sleeves and gaze from an open bay-window
on the indolent scene--the thin haze, the Fishkill hills in the
distance--off on the river, a sloop with slanting mainsail, and two or
three little shad-boats. Over on the railroad opposite, long freight
trains, sometimes weighted by cylinder-tanks of petroleum, thirty,
forty, fifty cars in a string, panting and rumbling along in full
view, but the sound soften'd by distance.
Pages:
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224