Catskills, clear in the sunlight.

After two days crowded with enjoyment, we arrived in Schoharie, where we
passed the night. Having given orders to be called at five, we took
advantage of the leisure hour this arrangement gave us to view, the next
morning.

AN OLD FORT.

In reality, the 'fort' is a dilapidated old church, used as a shelter
during the Indian wars, and also in the days of the Revolution. On the
smooth stones that form the eastern side are carved the names of the
soldiers who defended it, with the date, and designation of the regiment
to which they belonged. I deciphered also, among other curious details,
the name of the person who 'gave the favor of the ground.' I would
gladly have indulged my antiquarian tastes by copying these rude
inscriptions; but the eager cries of my companions compelled me to hurry
on.

The western portion of the structure has also its story to tell. The
traces of besieging cannon balls are still to be distinctly seen, and in
one place I observed a smooth, round hole, made by the passage of a ball
into the interior of the fort.

As I stood on the walls of this ancient building, surveying the valley
it overlooked, with its straggling village lying at our feet, and the
fair Schoharie Creek, now gleaming in the sunlight of the meadows, or
darkening in the shade of the trees that overhung it, the past and the
present mingled strongly in my thoughts.

The Stars and Stripes, that on this very spot had seen our fathers
repelling a foreign foe, now waved over their sons, forced from their
quiet homes, not to contend with the stranger and the alien, but to
subdue those rebellious brothers whose sacrilegious hands had torn down
that sacred flag, reared amidst the trials and perils of '76. Not less
noble the present contest than the past, nor less heroic the soldier of
to-day than the patriot of the Revolution. We continue to-day the fight
they fought against injustice and oppression--a conflict that will end
only when every nation and every race shall lift unshackled hands up to
God in thanksgiving for the gift of freedom. A deeper love of my
country, and a firmer trust in the God of truth and justice, sank into
my heart as I turned away from those rude walls, sacred to the memory of
departed valor.

We hurried back to the breakfast that awaited us, and then drove to

THE CAVE,

which lies six miles from the village of Schoharie. The entrance is at
the base of a heavily-woode