A Visit To Bald Mountain.

Mount Raffinesque is situated three miles North-east from Lansingburgh and the ‘burgh is three miles South-west from Mount Raffinesque.
Mount Raffinesque is (very) French for Bald Mountain. Bald Mountain is English for Mount Raffinesque.
We set out, at the outset, for B. M, with three loads—one of provisions, and two of provision eaters.
The former was the lode-star of our existence.
We progressed about a mile when Jehu informed us that we “would have to walk up that little hill. It was a little the biggest big hill I experienced.
It costs fifteen dollars to walk up Bald Mountain.
So the party toiled up the mountain on foot.
We were “Toilers of the see.”
Saw a dirty little urch to observe “Go up, thou bald head.” Pretty girl by my side said ’twas “Go up Bald Mountain.” Don’t believe her.
Stopped at a farmer’s house on mountain side. Farmer’s wife was making butter—balled.
Seven incipient farmers were making mud pastry near the doorway—they also bawled.
Passed a pretty girl by the wayside. Gave her a bow and she returned it. I’ve got it now.
Arrived at the summit, somewhat warm.
The sun’s rays were pouring down. They poured down a raise of ground.
At our luncheon. Took our lunch on the mountain.
Came across a cross old native who expressed a desire to sell us sassafrass root.
Got the desire by express.
Cross old gent said, “Here’s some sassafras bark.” Told him I couldn’t hear some sassafras bark. He didn’t take.
Offered him some old rye. He took.
Asked him to give us a history of the mountain.
He said that the mountain was a little hill, but a farmer sowed it with rye, and it came up and got elevated.
Don’t think that can be sow.
The mountain has been bald ever since it was a hil-lock.
For an hour or two we studied the sun, through glasses while it looked Sol-emnly down upon us.
Attempted to spin the top of the mountain. Failed.
Stood on a rock and shouted, “Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again,” but they could’t Tell that I was s-peak-ing to them.
Took another runch, and, just at dew time, we bade the modhtain adieu.
Bald Mountain is an institution, in fact it is well gotten up, and amounts to quite a mout. Yours hill-ariously,
Titus A. Brick.
Lansingburgh Weekly Chronicle. September 19, 1866: 1 col 5.