The city contains many spacious, imposing hotels and fine tree- bordered streets, which at once suggest that Saratoga was the one time "Queen of Spas." But if the people no longer come here in such great numbers, Nature still reigns over the place, and it possesses that quiet and repose which make it an ideal place in which to spend a vacation. Here are wonderful old elms whose branches intermingle to form a canopy over the streets. So gracefully do their drooping sprays of green descend that we could think of nothing with which to compare them save emerald fountains. These old trees are more stately, more graceful than those at Versailles. Beautiful villas, public halls and handsome churches are scattered about the city. Viewed from the surrounding hills, the buildings seem to nestle in a leafy wilderness. The annual horseraces held here still draw large crowds, but as a summer resort Saratoga, like Trenton Falls, has seen its day.
It is not Old Saratoga that contains the most interest for the traveler, but the region around Schuylerville. Here the green carpet covers all the hills, whose smooth, velvety appearance adds greatly to the beauty of the country.
The day of our arrival at Saratoga was extremely sultry, and heavy masses of clouds darkened the sky. Soon bursting peals of thunder told us that the warrior clouds were bringing their heavy artillery into action. This storm passed around us, however, and we hastened to the site of the beautiful monument commemorating the decisive victory of the Revolution. It stands on the site of Burgoyne's fortified camp, overlooking the place of his surrender. The height of this monument is one hundred and fifty-four feet, its base is forty feet square, and it contains one hundred and eighty-four steps, which lead up to the last windows, which command an enchanting view of from ten to thirty miles in all directions.
The country all around is full of very picturesque, scenic surprises, and the lordly Hudson winding among its hills of vernal loveliness is not the least of them. Your attention is quickly recalled from the dead past, whether you like it or not, to the living present. From this place you will see and hear things which no historian can ever record; paragraphs of the life history of the palpitant beauty and pulsing song of existence. The true lover of Nature will find no greater delight than to linger here to drink in the beauty of the place as his eyes rove over the vast expanse of gently undulating hills that melt away in the blue haze. The river flowing through masses of verdue, the towering trees that climb the surrounding heights and skirt the pastoral landscapes, afford constant evidence of the natural wealth and beauty of this historic region.
Standing here, gazing out over the beautiful scene, we recalled our visit to the famous battlegrounds of Waterloo.
It was on a lovely June day that we left the Belgium capital,
turning again and again to look at the wonderful Palace of
Justice which dominates this city, as the capitol does at
Washington.
The country around the field of Waterloo is very level, hardly relieved by an undulation, and dotted at intervals with a few trees that heighten the loneliness of the scene rather than relieve it. Here we became aware that we were gazing at one of the finest sites that man has ever known for the purpose of mutual destruction. We readily saw that this level region gave ample room for both infantry and cavalry, where the many thousands of human beings were brought together in deadly collision. It was apparently designed by Nature to feed the hungry toilers of earth, but "was consecrated by man for a solemn spectacle of deliberate slaughter."
How often this fertile country was made the battleground of surrounding nations! Here it was we felt that indomitable spirit that rose above every oppression forced upon its people, stopping the hordes of invading armies.
We ascended the hill that flanked the right wing of the position of the English where the fight was hottest. From this eminence we looked down on vast cultivated fields with acres of waving barley and verdant meadows in which fine Holstein cattle were grazing. This hill is composed of soil dug from Mount St. Jean to cover the bones of the slain of both armies. This conical tumulus contains upon its summit, set in a spacious and lofty pedestal, a huge bronze lion cast from the cannon taken in battle.
As we stood on its top the scene unrolled before us like a wonderful panoramic painting, and we gazed out on this "great chessboard, where the last hard game of Napoleon's and Wellington's protracted match was played."