'Take my arm, and step forth with me from the piazza of the Mountain-House. It is night. A few stars are peering from a dim azure field of western sky; the high-soaring breeze, the breath of heaven, makes a stilly music in the neighboring pines; the meek crest of Dian rolls along the blue depths of ether, tinting with silver lines the half dun, half fleecy clouds; they who are in the parlors make 'considerable' noise; there is an individual at the end of the portico discussing his quadruple julep, and another devotedly sucking the end of a cane, as if it were full of mother's milk; he hummeth also an air from _Il Pirata_, and wonders, in the simplicity of his heart, 'why the devil that there steam-boat from Albany doesn't begin to show its lights down on the Hudson.' His companion of the glass, however, is intent on the renewal thereof. Calling to him the chief 'help' of the place, he says: 'Is that other antifogmatic ready?' 'No, Sir.' 'Well, now, person, what's the reason? What was my last observation? Says I to you, says I, 'Make me a fourth of them beverages;' and moreover, I added, 'Just you keep doing so; be _constantly_ making them, till the order is countermanded.' Give us another; go! vanish!--'disappear and appear!'' 'The obsequious servant went; and returning with the desired draught, observed, probably for the thousandth time: 'There! that's what I call the true currency; them's the _ginooyne_ mint-drops; HA--_ha_--ha!'--these separate divisions of his laughter coming out of his mouth at intervals of about half a minute each. * * * * *