OUR OWN ORBIT

OUR OWN ORBIT
10/13/1890 Intelligencer OUR OWN ORBIT Outward, Upward:- Haycock and Hills: Stony Garden: Top Rock: October is the enchanted era for outing, beyond compare with any other period of the entire year, and as by calendar count in one single, shortening length of daytime, you can it you will, and provided always you have a natural penchant for that sort of provender, you can now, wander where you wish, between dawn and dark, lay in store sufficient stock of loveliness luxuriant to fatten your sympathies, feast your soul upon, and regale you in regal reminiscences all through the chill and cold of the winter which is coming. Precisely the position in which these paragraphs are now being penned. On the morn of last Saturday, the same being the eleventh of the month, and soon after the clock up in court house tower had rang out the morning hour of seven, we were off and out beyond these limits local. Bounding beyond our bailiwick, but not afoot and alone as is our habitual wont. Spirited and sinewed were the pair of steeds specially trained for travel, under the skillful care of their owner, Ollie Price; attached to a carriage as commodious as cozy, which for a certain monetary consideration, he had with his habitual courtesy, rigged up for the occasion—making its propelling power complete. When to these desirable providers we add most cheerily, upon the ancient proverb that “It is always wise to praise the bridge which carries you over,” that to Howard Kohl, the prince of drivers, the care and management of the horses had been confidently entrusted, and that he performed his duty without blunder or mishap throughout the entire trip, from start to finish, we only record what to his merit is generously due. One word to any of our readers who may not refrain from expressing their candid reflection that in daring to venture so far away from our own domicile and roof-tree we are trying fate too fearfully, perchance, in biting off more than we will be able to chaw. Just you half a little to learn the fact, final and fixed, that “ A setting hen never grows fat.” That is a plain principle, commonly proclaimed, that tingles with the truth it tells, and which we defiantly hurl with full force against the face of your forebodings. Or to paraphrase it more poetically we wish you to know that No pent-up little town contracts our powers, But the entire domain of Bucks is ours! *** Finally, to be accurate and definite, it may properly be added that this outing quintette was in individual compounding, an admirable mixture of a four-year-old, a blue-eyed boy brim full of that buoyancy which belongs to the first decade of life, the manager, who ran its financial department, and last, though far from being reckoned least, the identical individual whose forte is to be the impartial narrator. Half a mile out, then a northward turn along the turnpike and we had left toil, trade and traffic in the rear, and were out in God’s gorgeous country. A dash around Swartzlander’s old mill, an up-hill trot in front of the lively creamery, and then to Fountainville. The residents of this little hamlet, after a long stand still seem to have started out of the rut of the olden, and steadily, yet surely, progressing. Things there are not now as of yore, the old fashioned hotel has vanished, its fame for dancing parties and frolics quite forgotten, yet well can we recall “There where the sounds of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old hall, For hands across and down the middle!” Next station Grier’s Corner, established sometime in the year 1760 and fast asleep, and it continues in precisely similar position with the promise of its birth which culminated in its start. Now climbing higher, bowling along the prettiness of plateau, we break straight into the neat and not gaudy suburbs of handsome and progressive Dublin. It is old as the hills for aught we honw, and remained nearly as long in its pristine condition. The new blood and enterprise infused therein within the memory, of the existing generation have transformed into busy life, and there are no better business men or homes more handsome to be found in this section of creation than those who habitate here about. Upward still is the ascent, until we glide into Hagersville, which holds right firmly unto the reputation of its departed greatness when Sam Hager was living here and boomed up the price of real estate for every dollar it was worth and much more too. At unassuming quaint Keelersville, which held high carnival when the broom-stick and corn-stalk battalions, commanded by Colonel Pluck officers, for the hilarious incidents of both drill and drink, and the sham galore that followed in the wake of simple strut and swagger. This seems to have subsided into the solitude of its own sweet simplicity, a dreaming of the mimic military and political battles lost and won upon its zig zag fields of fight. Feather and fuss have fled; but industry and peace occupy the former thirsty and turbulent positions. Its hotel is true blue and bright at that, if we may rightly estimate it by the color flaunt from its front. And now still upward by the highest of hills upon whose top the gentle airs of this affluent October morn are floating to touch the rattling corn leaves, until both breeze and shock mingle together in a mildness of melody which seem attuned to the softest sighings Of seraphs or the low lute notes which laden with loveliness of times descend upon our dreams. Here now, hold your horses! Drop down from realms of romance, and quickly too or you may be dashed straight upon the army of rocks which environ you everywhere. Rockhill is the title of this stone-bound township and had its early dwellers searched the wide world over for a name by which to christen it they could not better it. By the way, and we are the first to ventilate this historic fact, its next door neighbor was not designated Haycock by reason of the many mounds of dried grass which its soil produced, but because and only for the real reason that its huge rocks were supposed to be formed in the shape of hay-cocks. This allegation we procured from the oldest inhabitant- and patent applied for. Here we are at Applebachsville. It is not a very euphonious name, and the same we are willing to accede to—but no other one could have been chosen for the prettiest village peaceable, plain and unpretending which both adorns and relieves the rough and rugged upper end of our county—located on either side of the old Bethlehem road, some sixteen miles distant from the county seat. It was began in the roughest of the rough, and built right along out of the wildest of the wild, by the two enterprising and progressive brothers, Paul and Harry Applebach. The land upon which it is located being part of the ancient Stokes farm tract which remained in possession of that family until purchased from William Stokes, long a resident of Doylestown, by a gentleman named Butch, of New York, whose object in making the purchase was to provide a home for his son, and which comprised near 400 acres, much of it adapted for pasture, and over 100 of it still in woodland. The idea of the parent was long entertained by the son, and upon his sudden departure, it was again sold and came into the possession of the Applebachs, who started the town in a success which continued throughout their life. Since then it has managed to pretty well hold its own, but the wheels of progress seem to have been scotched. The hotel which held high the reputation of being the best the country round, now has Laubenstein, for its jolly landlord, and aright good fellow is he, who know his business and attends to it both in general and in detail, as we can most gladly and gratefully attest. He makes no pretensions, but he gets there in his common-sense old fashion style. He made us all feel at home, and when we queried whether waffles was on his bill of fare he proudly answered in the affirmative that it was, providing we were willing to wait for them. Then also the coming forth was announced to our hungry group of five. Crisp, brown, neither too rare of too well done, their hollow squares each holding in separate little apartments the sweetest of country butter. Oh! The joyous memory in which we cherish those same waffles, reposes in the richest rosary of epicurean remembrances. Chestnuts, the first we have found on sale, were procurable here at the store, rating at fifteen cents a quart to the delight of the juniors in our party; but shellbarks, for which the trees in this vicinity have long been famous, are a total failure to the great loss of many a gatherer, who out of them has heretofore coined lots of lucre. Time called, the horses ready and all present or accounted for, we resume our route northward out of town, until passing its outskirts we turn sharp to the right, as the law directs, without incident meriting inditing until on the brow of a hill we discern the beautifully blue tints of the tallest and rarest fringed gentian. In our wanderings here for many seasons of autumnal empire, they are faithful in the findings and have never failed being in bloom to greet our grasping. We were made happy in the collecting of sufficiency to gladden our eyes and hearts besides our own—and then moved on to Dunlap’s school house, a natty and neat building, and the sole edifice visible anywhere in that vicinity. Off to the right and thence eastward, until we struck section, and thence on by the old Mondau property, whose soil is so scant and poverty stricken, that we have serious doubts if it would be able to keep a diminutive little killdeer in enough sustenance to save it from premature starvation. Traversing like sameness and similarity we wended the weary way until burst upon the view. DANIELSTOWN AND DESOLATION! Now our words for it, and we will wager our pile on its truthfulness, that as far as you have traveled, or as many miles you’ve been, this hamlet wins the premium in the poverty-stricken line; as it was long noted upon the criminal records of our county to be without a peer in the calendar of crime and promiscuous general worthlessness. It is pleasant to note a considerable change in the hovels or huts of these gaunt and grim inhabitants, although there is still ample room for much more improvement. The old tumble down shanties have been wrecked by storm, blown over by the wind, or deserted by the tenants who could no longer occupy them in safety. In their stead, new comers have erected new buildings more akin to comfort and the absence of real want; but still these mustard seeds of new industry have plenty of space left to spread themselves out and thrive, if they will. ???????????????????????????????????????????????? Fawn on you may greet you no more this side of Jordan. Ask for William Pearson, who will faithfully care for your team and traps, and then secure the services of his cute twelve year-old son, named Harry, and just follow his lead, he will pilot you safe through. When he started with us we were surprised to see that he was barefoot; but no fleet and surefooted chamois ever leaped the Alpine crags from cliff to cliff, than does this brave little fellow step in safety from stone to stone in this forsaken region. You stagger, stumble, and slip down along the way, but erect as a hunter he glides along. Here we are. Look Ye. Acre upon acre in extent. A mixed medley of the ragged rough and rude—of the species termed hornblende, differing entirely from the gray garbed sort lying around loose. The greatest curiosity of our county, and entitled to take high rank amid the wonders of the world. Striking them with ferrule of cane or pocket-knife they send forth a musical ring, and Boucher, who made explorations there, declares that there is an abundance of mineral matter among them. In brief, go look at them, and you will not regret the cost or time. Hurrying away, in order to keep up to schedule, we were driven rapidly around the base, past the charming little Catholic church on eastern slope and thence to the home of Eugene McCarty, who upon request made to guide us to the summit of old Haycock mountain, by rounding road, by rounding road, he termed it. Though why he called it so is beyond conjecture to fathom. The distance up, as estimated, was represented to be a scant half mile, when if it does not measure two or more we will pay for the oysters. With bounding step and hearts elate we essayed to follow our leader, and did it, until we too fancied we were tugging up that steep which made the fame of a certain youth who bore the banner with “Excelsior” blazoned thereon. We got there all the same. The sight was splendid, or, if you will, splendoriferous; but if we know our self, and we are of opinion we do, that first climb to the heights of Top Rock is our last. Yet, was it both good and grand to be wondering, wandering here. REVERY AND REFLECTION OVER ROCKS. The order issued for the supply was certainly filled up to completeness. They are all here, held fast and firm, or left lying around loose. Rocks, bif and black rocks, blue and bulby rocks, classic and common rocks, defiant and diminutive rocks, elegant and extraordinary rocks, fearful and frowning rocks, green, gray, glorious, grotesque, gorgeous, Region of rocks! Rocks, more rocks, most rocks, Rock, rockier, rockiest. Comparison caves and fancy falters in the attempt to comprehend their infinite number and variety. Down here we boast on Buckingham, but it is no more to the huge heaps which hug the Haycock, than is a bee to a behemoth. That’s tall—but then this theme is the tallest too. A final word. Just now the foliage up that way is arrayed in all the garniture of autumnal displays clear ahead of here at home. This then the time to take this trip, both for happiness and health, therefore get up and go. Made the return just as day descended into darkness, with our whole party unanimous that the hours had glided charmingly on.