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.
After leaving the city of Hudson, the country gradually sinks, on each side, and appears in some places tolerably fertile—but I much prefer looking at, to living on, such a soil.
We arrived at Albany about eight in the evening: but, it being dark and rainy, I left the boat immediately, and took up my abode at Welch's Connecticut Coffee-House. As the rain kept me in doors, I went to roost early, and got a comfortable night's rest.
7th.—Got up with the sun, to allow time to survey the place, as my stay was limited. The first, and in fact the only object worthy of particular notice, (at least that I saw,) is the spacious Basin of the great Clinton Canal—improperly called Erie Canal. This is formed by a section of the river, taken therefrom by means of an extensive wharf running parallel with the shore, about one hundred yards from the same, and in length about three quarters of a mile, having a lock at the lower end, to receive and let out vessels of considerable burden. This wharf, if I may so call it, is about thirty yards wide, having extensive store-houses built upon it, from one end to the other. Several bridges are thrown across the Basin, opposite to some of the principal streets, in order to facilitate the communication with the wharf. It is truly astonishing to behold with what ease vessels may be loaded and unloaded.
Albany is certainly in a very thriving condition. But I did not see one building that could be called a splendid edifice. Even the state Capitol is nothing more than a plain, and not very large, but substantial stone building. Yet its situation is very commanding, and embraces a fine view of the greater portion of the city. There is a very pretty representation of Justice, on the top of the cupola, holding a pair of scales in her left hand, and a drawn sword in her right. The other public buildings that may be thought conspicuous, are, the Academy, Lancasterian School, and several churches with handsome steeples. The beauty of the place is greatly lessened by the many old Dutch buildings, with their gable ends fronting the streets. But it is much larger than I had supposed, and upon a general view, is rather a handsome city than otherwise. The Hudson at Albany is about as wide as the Delaware at Trenton, but much deeper.
I had contemplated taking my passage at Albany, on board a canal boat; but was dissuaded therefrom in consequence of the tediousness of the passage, to Schenectady, having to surmount an elevation of forty locks, in a distance of twenty-eight miles, and occupying twenty-four hours. I therefore took my seat in the stage for Schenectady, distance fifteen miles by turnpike, fare sixty-two cents. There are now running between the two last-named places, upwards of thirty four-horse stages, (quite a match, if not superior to the Philadelphia and New York Union line stages,) which go and return daily, generally well crowded. This may serve to give an idea of the trade of Albany with the west. I left the city about ten A. M., making one of nine tolerably large men, of which, by the way, I must confess, I was rather more than the average size. Our course was west, along Washington street, which extends not much short of two miles, thickly set with houses. After leaving the suburbs of Albany, we entered what are called the Pine Plains, but which in justice should be called the Albany Desert—for, of all miserable, sterile, sandy, barren wastes that ever I beheld, not even excepting Mount Misery, it caps the climax. Nor is there a single object to relieve the eye, to interest the traveller, or to merit attention, until you arrive at Schenectady, save the uniform straightness of the turnpike, (which is very good,) and a row of large, towering Lombardy poplars, about forty feet apart, on the north side of the road, in a direct line for the whole distance of fifteen miles. An interesting looking little boy, who was on the outside seat with the driver, enumerated them until upwards of 1000, when he grew somewhat tired, and gave it up as dull sport. I inquired of a passenger the object of planting them. He replied that he supposed their roots would be some security to the road, and prevent its being blown away!—and, indeed, there was some reason in his strange solution, as the open spaces on either side were drifted in large banks.