eak took off large crops from his little farm, and as soon as he had any
money beforehand, he added a few acres more, so that it gradually grew to
its present size. Rich as he is, he is a worthy man; his sons, who are
numerous, are all fine fellows, not a scape-grace among them, and he has
settled them all on farms around him."

Easton, which we entered soon after dark, is a pretty little town of seven
thousand inhabitants, much more substantially built than towns of the same
size in this country. Many of the houses are of stone, and to the sides of
some of them you see the ivy clinging and hiding the masonry with a veil
of evergreen foliage. The middle of the streets is unpaved and very dusty,
but the broad flagging on the sides, under the windows of the houses, is
sedulously swept. The situation of the place is uncommonly picturesque. If
ever the little borough of Easton shall grow into a great town, it will
stand on one of the most commanding sites in the world, unless its
inhabitants shall have spoiled it by improvements. The Delaware, which
forms the eastern bound of the borough, approaches it from the north
through high wooded banks, and flows away to join the Susquehanna between
craggy precipices. On the south side, the Lehigh comes down through a
deep, verdant hollow, and on the north the Bushkill winds through a glen
shaded with trees, on the rocky banks of which is one of the finest drives
in the world. In the midst of the borough rises a crag as lofty as that on
which Stirling Castle is built--in Europe, it would most certainly have
been crowned with its castle; steep and grassy on one side, and
precipitous and rocky on the other, where it overhangs the Bushkill. The
college stands on a lofty eminence, overlooking the dwellings and streets,
but it is an ugly building, and has not a tree to conceal even in part its
ugliness. Besides these, are various other eminences in the immediate
vicinity of this compact little town, which add greatly to its beauty.

We set out the next morning for the Delaware Water Gap, following the road
along the Delaware, which is here uncommonly beautiful. The steep bank is
mostly covered with trees sprouting from the rocky shelves, and below is a
fringe of trees between the road and the river. A little way from the
town, the driver pointed out, in the midst of the stream, a long island of
loose stones and pebbles, without a leaf or stem of herbage.

"It was there," said he, "that Ga