After various excursions and much deliberation, we fixed upon a small estate, comprising an excellent dwelling-house, with out-offices, and above fifty acres of land, delightfully situated on Long Island, and within about twenty-five miles from New York. This was the most delightful residence, both for beauty of situation and internal convenience that I ever inhabited, but with all its attractions, it was the scene of my severest afflictions.
The agreeable change from city to country at the delightful season of spring, made the first few weeks pass away most pleasantly. In this quarter of the globe, winter reigns with undisputed sway, from the first day of November to the last of April. At the close of this period, nature, refreshed by so long a repose and enlivened by the genial warmth of the sun, throws off the sombre robe of winter, and suddenly appears clad in her most lovely attire. Birds of gay plumage resembling those of the tropics, with woodland flowers of all hues, and the bright foliage of the forest trees, simultaneously spring into existence with a rapidity that with us, would be considered miraculous. As an instance, I distinctly remember the buds of the trees being firmly closed on the 28th of April, and on the 12th of the following May, the foliage of the whole of them was as fully developed as in the midst of summer.
Strictly speaking, the American spring is confined to the first fortnight in May. It is a most delightful season, but sadly too short. Birds, such as for beauty, I never before saw at large, enliven the scenery with their bright plumage. Choice flowers, thick and numberless “as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa” are here seen, with their rich colours enhancing each others charms by a beauteous contrast. While myriads of butterflies, not the small pale coloured things of northern Europe, but creatures with wings of uncommon size and beauty, contribute their share to increase this fund of pleasure. Neither pen nor pencil can do justice to the landscape scenery at this period, viewed as it is, through the medium of a clear atmosphere, that imparts a glowing warmth and renders the whole truly enchanting.
Every rose has its thorn, and the same bright sun that calls into existence these beauties, awakens also swarms of serpents and venomous reptiles of every kind. The bite of some of these is attended with distressing circumstances, and others among them, such as the black serpent and the copper-headed viper, have been known to inflict mortal wounds. I believe I am not whimsically affected, yet I could never look upon these dreadful creatures without shuddering, as they wriggled their way in odious contortions just from before my feet. The caution required to avoid stepping upon them, and the fear of some that are known to pursue the human species, greatly detracted from the pleasure of my woodland rambles; and, like the sword impending over the head of Damocles, dashed all my rural pleasure with fearful apprehension.
One day while walking in the garden, I narrowly escaped a bite from a black serpent, which our man-servant afterwards succeeding in killing; its skin was variegated with all the darker shades of different colours beautifully arranged: it measured five feet two inches in length. After this, I was determined to walk in no other than a clear path.
About the latter part of May the heat of the sun becomes oppressive. Then, farewell to pleasure. Clouds of musquitoes are ushered into existence, and myriads of flies fill every room. Now our dress, and almost our lives, become burthensome, we fan ourselves from morning to night and feel for those who are not blessed with an ice-house. Although the common flies are extremely numerous, they bear no proportion to the musquitoes in point of annoyance. These are considered as minor evils by some persons, but as respects myself, the sharp stinging wounds inflicted by the latter, will not be very soon forgotten. I was confined to the house under medical treatment for a fortnight, in consequence of a bite I received from a musquito. Certainly this is a singular case; but still it furnishes a proof of their noxious powers. I have often been told, that in their visitations, they respect the persons of those who are accustomed to drink largely of rum; but to the truth of this assertion my eyes and understanding refused their assent. Ablution in this liquor, it is true, is very grateful after enduring a day’s campaign with them; and as a lotion for allaying the pain produced by these insects, it is certainly useful.
With the hot weather comes thunder and lightning, and rain. The latter invariably falls in torrents, and if the wheat grew as high and as heavy in the ear as with us, it certainly could never arrive at maturity. A transatlantic thunder storm is truly sublime and terrible. The sky first becomes covered with black clouds, the wind blows violently, the clouds suddenly expand, and emit what appears to be a broad stream of liquid fire; the thunder instantaneously bursts forth with a crash, that I suppose, all the artillery in the world could not equal. This is usually repeated twice or thrice, and the storm exhausted by its own violence, is suddenly succeeded by a delightful calm. Æolus rends the vail of black clouds from the face of the sun, which now seems to shine with increasing heat and splendour; while the earth, being previously parched with excessive heat, and now suddenly deluged with torrents of rain, emits clouds of vapour, that for a short time envelope the landscape in a dense fog. This is quickly dispersed by the excessive heat of the sun; the arid earth again thirsts for moisture, and we soon forget the storm. The opinion prevailing in Europe respecting the salubrity of the United States, is more favourable than an examination will warrant. My remarks on this subject are the result of a patient and most painful investigation, aided by experience, alas, too dearly purchased. I shall confine my observations on the climate to the first summer we passed in America, and the succeeding winter; which, from being more uniform than the last year, are less liable to objection. The state of the thermometer and the variations of the winds, I select from a diary kept by my husband during our residence in the United States. The greatest heat this summer was a hundred and five degrees. From mid-day to five in the afternoon, during the months of July, August, and September, the thermometer ranged between ninety and a hundred degrees—seldom above the latter, and in very few instances below the former; while the universal stillness of the air, rendered the heat quite as overpowering, and even more so, than the state of the index warrants us to suppose.
The climate, and its effects upon the constitution, are always distasteful subjects to the Americans. They cannot subscribe to any other doctrine, than that which recommends theirs as the most salubrious climate in the world. This is asserted by them with as much confidence as if it were a self-evident truth; and all who dispute it, are in danger of being overwhelmed by a torrent of displeasure. A physician paid us a visit one broiling day in July, and certainly did acknowledge that it was then hot—but, checking himself, he observed, “that the heat was nothing to speak of—just fair summer weather—hotter, no doubt than in England—but the perfection of summer.” We observed that the heat had, for some days past, been above ninety-six degrees in the shade. As we expected, he manifested symptoms of incredulity, which however, we soon dispelled by referring him to the thermometer, then standing at ninety-eight degrees. In the absence of positive proof like this, they will endeavour to evade the question in any way, rather than submit to acknowledge any fact that would jeopardize the character of their climate. And truly it is admirable, if a Jamaica summer succeeded by a Moscow winter, under one parallel, be acknowledged the standard of perfection.
I discovered to my sorrow, that the morning air here is not so wholesome as in England; on the contrary, it is considered most pernicious. This greatly perplexed me in selecting the best time for a walk. The physician had interdicted the matutinal breezes—the mid-day was not to be thought of—and the evening gales were very unwholesome, and frequently as deadly and chill as the breath of the death angel. There are no cool evenings here in the summer as with us, so refreshing and so pleasant, in which we may luxuriate in all the delights of an evening’s ramble. While the sun is above the horizon, he blazes away with insufferable heat, and his descent is mostly succeeded by a chillness that resembles the icy hand of death to the feelings, and frequently is such in reality to those who are often exposed to its influence. The sudden vicissitudes of the atmosphere, I consider the most dangerous feature of the whole affair; for, incredible as it may appear, the mercury has fallen from ninety-five to fifty-six degrees in the short space of three hours. A variation of twenty or twenty-five degrees, in the same period, is by no means an uncommon occurrence.
The houses in the country are almost universally formed of wood, the best of them are faced with shingles (thin plates of cedar,) neatly painted: these are by no means deficient in comfort. For the sake of coolness in summer, they are so constructed as to furnish a shaded walk on both sides: and when flowers are trained to climb up the pillars, the whole has a very pleasing appearance.