Lehigh University
The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 011 [07-04-1853]

it off.       An awning attached to a shop front opposite catches fire
from a cracker, and is extinguished.        A bell rings inside the
Tavern, and folks are supposed to be dining.      We are sum-
moned to pay coach fare, and muleted to the amount of $1..25
each.   We take our places (inside the coach this time,) in com-
pany with a brown keen faced American, his wife, (I suppose,)
and a long thin inanely-supercilious faced girl with long tangled
curls � one of their party.     Off we are, with much jolting
and bumping, winding up the mountain.      It is hot, and I
doze again, but am speedily jolted into very wide awakishness.
Up and and onwards, steeper and steeper, mountain rising
far above mountain, the road winding on ever.    Sun light
glancing hotly through the thick trees, and resting in quiet
glory on the sea of verdure far below.     Higher and higher yet,
for miles upwards, with sometimes a pause for resting the
horses.        Some little discursive talk with the other carriage
inmates, and the tangled curls manifest ill bred vapidity and
little insolences in converse with her party.        Some seven miles
being past, half way, there�s a halt at a roadside house,
then in again.  Steeper mountain passes.      Mr Hart & I
get out and walk.     Flowers Iris hued, blossoming copse,
and mighty trees, a world of leafy beauty every where.
Verdure heaped on verdure, tree summit surmounting tree-
summit.       Arrived at a little stream running athwart the
path,  a small shanty yclept �Rip Van Winkle�s House�
beside.    We inquire of its occupant as to Waud and Dillon,
and the hotel-keeper, a spare brown-faced knave lies,               
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