Saturday, 13th.—Breakfasted at Whitehall, and took the middle line to Albany, traversing a wild sterile country, over bad roads and worse bridges, until we reached Sandy-hill, where the noble Hudson bursts upon the view.
From this point to Albany the river is never lost sight of; and a grateful sight the beautiful stream afforded to a sun-dried, half-smothered traveller, to turn from the dusty track and contemplate its cool waters and pleasant groves.
I sincerely pity the heart to which a drive, at such a season, through this valley of the Hudson, brings no gladness. Talk of the beauties of the river from New-York to Albany, when, after all, it is here they are to be found; here where its waters are seen flowing between banks at times richly wooded, towering high and bold; then sinking suddenly, as they sweep for miles a continuous line of natural meadows, whose rich fringe of waving grass drinks for ever of the passing stream.
In many of these places the country puts on a park-like appearance, and you travel by hill and dale and glance down trim-looking slopes, dotted with irregular clumps of ornamental trees of the finest foliage and of all kinds, from the graceful silver ash and the umbrageous butter-nut, to the tall sombre-looking pine, and the wide-spreading elm.
The river itself is as changeful in its aspect as the lovely country through which it flows; in places its whole breadth is occupied by a stony bed over which it leaps along, forming for a mile or so a gentle uniform rapid. At the next turn it is seen freed from all impediment, moving majestically and slowly through deep-cut banks, or circling round some little islet won from the neighbouring plain.
During our journey we crossed the canal which runs near the river frequently, and the Hudson itself twice, by fine covered bridges.
We also passed through several pretty towns; Schuylersville, a beautiful romantic site; Mechanicsville, a bustling thriving place, with a considerable population, and where I noticed a great number of young girls of an appearance remarkably neat. It was Saturday afternoon, labour was passed for the week, and the street and neighbourhood presented an appearance most creditable to the operatives who are here congregated in a lovely neighbourhood.
By the time we reached Waterford it was dark: here we crossed the Hudson, near the Cohoos' Falls; and at Troy were ferried over, back again, coach, horses, a waggon, and a couple of oxen, in a schow, or flat boat, by torchlight.
From our last landing-place to Albany runs a well Macadamized road of noble proportions, and on this our wearied horses appeared to gain fresh courage, for they trotted along nimbly, setting me down at the door of the Eagle shortly after midnight.
Sunday, 14th.—Down the Hudson to New York, where I rested for a few days, intending to embark from this port; but finding the ships of every line crowded, and likely to be crowded for some time to come, I decided, in company with an excellent voyaging companion, who had resolved upon sharing my fortunes, to proceed to Philadelphia, and sail from that place, in the Algonquin packet-ship of the 20th inst. which promised equal comforts with fewer candidates; the length of the Delaware making Philadelphia less popular as a packet-station.