Once upon
a time, however, a hunter who had lost his way penetrated to the
Garden Rock, where he beheld a number of gourds placed in the
crotches of trees. One of these he seized and made off with it,
but in the hurry of his retreat he let it fall among the rocks,
when a great stream gushed forth, which washed him away and swept
him down precipices, where he was dished to pieces, and the
stream made its way to the Hudson, and continues to flow to the
present day, being the identical stream known by the name of the
Kaaterskill.
ENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICA.
Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation, rousting
herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible
locks; methinks I see her as an eagle, mewing her mighty youth,
and kindling her endazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam.--MILTON
ON THE LIBERTY OF THE PRESS.
IT is with feelings of deep regret that I observe the literary
animosity daily growing up between England and America. Great
curiosity has been awakened of late with respect to the United
States, and the London press has teemed with volumes of travels
through the Republic; but they seem intended to diffuse error
rather than knowledge; and so successful have they been, that,
notwithstanding the constant intercourse between the nations,
there is no people concerning whom the great mass of the British
public have less pure information, or entertain more numerous
prejudices.
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