American Resorts: With Notes Upon Their Climate

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F.A. Davis, 1889 - 285 pages
 

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Page 89 - WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers.
Page 122 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Page 30 - And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land; It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
Page 26 - Through his painted, woodlands stray, Than where hill-side oaks and beeches Overlook the long, blue reaches, Silver coves and pebbled beaches, And green isles of Casco Bay ; Nowhere day, for delay, With a tenderer look beseeches, " Let me with my charmed earth stay...
Page 63 - a broad sheet of water, so placid and limpid that it resembled a bed of the pure mountain atmosphere compressed into a setting of hills and woods. Nothing is wanted but ruined castles and recollections, to raise it to the level of the Rhine.
Page 101 - ... 6. The sedative influence exerted on the constitution by a comparatively humid atmosphere combined with a high barometric pressure. 7. The bracing and hardening effect of almost constant sea-breezes, and of the changes of climate experienced in passing through the different " regions
Page 36 - Then is that lonely island fair; And the pale health-seeker findeth there The wine of life in its pleasant air. No greener valleys the sun invite, On smoother beaches no sea-birds light, No blue waves shatter to foam more white ! There, circling ever their narrow range, Quaint tradition and legend strange Live on unchallenged, and know no change.
Page 32 - WE sat within the farmhouse old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold, An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port, — The strange, old-fashioned, silent town, — The lighthouse, — the dismantled fort, — The wooden houses, quaint and brown. We sat and talked until the night, Descending, filled the little room; Our faces faded from the sight, Our voices only broke the gloom. We spake of many a vanished scene, Of what we once had thought...
Page 33 - For centuries the storms have beaten upon this narrow strip of sand, behind which the commerce of a state lies intrenched. The assault is unflagging, the defence obstinate.
Page 83 - Touched by a light that hath no name, A glory never sung, Aloft on sky and mountain wall Are God's great pictures hung.

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