Notes on a Tour Through the Western part of The State of New York

Transcriber's Notes: The copy number in the original was unreadable. Inconsistent spelling left as in the original.
Two Hundred Copies reprinted October, 1916, from The Ariel, Philadelphia, 1829-30, for George P. Humphrey, Rochester, N. Y. No.

May 5th. —Left Bristol Pa., at eight o'clock, in the Steamboat Trenton, for New York. About ninety passengers were on the way-bill, not one of which I knew. Amongst our number was the celebrated Miss Clara Fisher —famed for her aptitude in personating variety of character, having wonderful powers of mimicry. She is certainly a very interesting girl, and attracted much attention; but the gaze of strangers was evidently very disagreeable to her, and she apparently coveted not much scrutiny. Nothing occurred on our route worth notice. Having had a pleasant passage, we arrived at New York about five o'clock.
I took my lodgings at Mrs. Man's boarding-house, No. 61, Broadway. After making some improvement in my appearance, such as brushing up my hat and coat, and brushing off my beard, I issued forth into the splendid avenue, where all the beauty and fashion of this gay city daily promenade, to enjoy the pleasure of a walk. After walking and walking, and walking further, until my feet exhibited an alarming regiment of blisters , I wended my tedious way back to my lodgings—took a peep at the medley of boarders that thronged the house—looked at (but did no more than taste ) the shaved dried beef and prepared bread-and-butter on the supper-table—for the former was cut in true Vauxhall style, one pound to cover half an acre, and the latter was only alarmed by butter—sipped a dish of tea, and made my escape to bed, ruminating on the horrors of an empty stomach tantalized by a New York supper.
May 6th. —Got up early, fresh and active—had a good night's rest, in spite of a slim supper—paid for that and my bed— one dollar —just four times as much as the whole was worth. Pushed off to the North America steamboat, and took passage to Albany —fare, two dollars. The night boats, as they are called, that is, the boats which go in the night, are some of them as low as one dollar, board included; but you lose the pleasure which even common minds must feel when gazing on the glorious scenery that fringes the borders of the mighty Hudson, and which, to a stranger, fully makes up the difference. The North America is a splendid and superior boat, far surpassing all others that ply upon the Hudson, and ploughs her majestic course through the waves at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. I should estimate the number of passengers on board to-day at three hundred , all of whom had the appearance of belonging to the higher order of society, as the low-priced boats are favored with the rabble, who move about here so often, and in such numbers, as to give those boats a good support. We left the wharf about seven: and again I looked around me, but in vain, to find in this dense crowd one familiar face with which I might claim acquaintance. I was therefore forced to look on, without having a single friendly bosom with which I might reciprocate those impressions of pleasure which the occasion was so aptly fitted to inspire. The grand Pallisadoes, the Highlands, and the abrupt sinuosities of this noble river, were calculated to awaken in my mind a sense of the fraility of my nature, and the greatness of a God. After passing Newburg, the scenery became entirely new to me, as that place had heretofore been the limit to my journeys. After leaving this spot, many very beautiful and highly cultivated seats are passed, on the east side of the river. They rear their captivating forms in the very bosom of apparently primeval nature, on some imposing point or eminence; and as the boat swiftly passes, are alternately hid and opened to the view. As we approached the Catskill mountains, which are much the highest I have ever seen, the celebrated mountain house, called Pine Orchard , was pointed out to me by a gentleman on board. It is located on one of the most elevated points, and is distant twelve miles from the river. Its appearance is very much that of a small white cloud in the midst of the heavens, and is in the highest degree wild and romantic. But I came to the conclusion, after gazing at it a considerable time, that the fatigue of climbing to the summit, (more than 2,000 feet high,) would be infinitely greater than the pleasure which its airy situation could afford.