University of Virginia Library

POINT NO POINT.

Directly opposite to Sing Sing is Point no Point, a
singular range of highlands of the trap formation, which
are extremely apt to deceive the traveller who dont
“understand trap” as the geologists say. In sailing
along up the river, a point of land appears at all times,
(except in a dense fog or a dark night, when we advise

the reader not to look out for it,) projecting far into the
river. On arriving opposite, it seems to recede, and to
appear again a little beyond. Some travellers compare
this Point no Point, to a great metaphysician, who reasons
through a whole quarto, without coming to a conclusion.
Others liken it to the great Dr. — who
plays round his subject like children round a bonfire, but
never ventures too near, lest he should catch it, and belike
burn his fingers. Others again approximate it, to
the speech of a member of congress, which always
seems coming to the point, but never arrives at it.
The happiest similitude however in our opinion, was
that of a young lady, who compared a dangling dandy
admirer of hers, to Point no Point, “Because,” said she,
“he is always pointing to his game, but never makes a
dead point.”

If the traveller should happen to go ashore here, by
following the road from Slaughter's Landing, up the
mountain about half a mile, he will come suddenly upon
a beautiful sheet of pure water nine miles in circumference,
called Snedecker's Lake, a name abhorred of
Poetry and the Nine. The southern extremity is bounded
by a steep pine clad mountain, which dashes headlong
down almost perpendicularly into the bosom of the
lake, while all the other portions of its graceful circle
are rich in cultivated rural beauties. The Brothers of
the Angle may here find pleasant sport, and peradventure
catch a pike, the noblest of all fishes, because he
has the noblest appetite. Alas!—how is the pride of
human reason, mortified at the thought, that a pike not
one tenth the bulk of a common sized man, can eat as

much as half a score of the most illustrious gourmands!
—and that too without dyspepsia, or apoplexy. Let
not man boast any longer of his being the lord of the
creation. Would we were a pike and lord of Snedecker's
Lake, for as the great prize poet sings in a fit of
hungry inspiration—