were exhibited at the State Fair in Castle Garden, and at the Great Exhibition at New York in 1853. But perhaps the late Rev. Levi Hill was desirous of securing a posthumous fame, and may have left something behind him after all; for surely, no man in his senses would have made such a noise about Daguerreotypes in "natural colours" as he did if he had not some reason for doing so. If so, and if he has left anything behind him that will lead us into nature's hidden mine of natural colours, now is the time for the "heirs and administrators" of the deceased gentlemen to secure for their deceased relative a fame as enduring as the Catskill Mountains themselves. The Katzbergs, as the Dutch called the Catskill Mountains, on account of the number of wild cats they found among them, have more than a photographic interest. The late Washington Irving has imparted to them an attraction of a romantic character almost as bewitching as that conferred upon the mountains in the vicinity of Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine by Sir Walter Scott. It is true that the delicate fancy of Irving has not peopled the Katzbergs with such "warriors true" as stood "Along Benledi's living side;" nor has he "sped the fiery cross" over "dale, glen, and valley;" neither has he tracked "The antler'd monarch of the waste" from hill to hill; but the war-whoop of the Mohegans has startled the wild beasts from their lair, and the tawny hunters of the tribe have followed up the trail of the panther until with bow and arrow swift they have slain him in his mountain hiding place. And Irving's quaint fancy has re-peopled the mountains again with the phantom figures of Hendrick Hudson and his crew, and put Rip van Winkle to sleep, like a big baby, in one of nature's huge cradles, where he slept for _twenty years_, and slept away the reign of good King George III. over the colonies, and awoke to find himself a bewildered citizen of the United States of America. And the place where he slept, and the place where he saw the solemn, silent crew of the "Half Moon" playing at ninepins, will be sought for and pointed out in all time coming. And why should these scenes of natural beauty and charming romance not be photographed on the spot? It has not been done to my knowledge, yet they are well worthy the attention of photographers, either amateur or professional. We leave the Catskill Mountains with some regret, because of the disappointment of their not yielding us the promised triumph of chemistry, "photography in natural colours," and because of their beauty and varying effects of _chiaroscuro_ not having been sufficiently rendered in the monochromes we have so long had an opportunity of obtaining in the camera.