JUNE 17th, 1840.
_My dear E._--We arose at an early hour, and after looking into some of
the public buildings we returned to breakfast, This dispatched, we drove
to the rail road depot, an ugly building at the head of State Street
where we alighted and stood in a large barn-like apartment, among men
and trunks and boys--the latter screaming, Albany Argus’--‘Evening
Journal!’--and among all sorts of confusion, until we were seated in the
cars. Soon however, two fine horses, to whom I render my thanks, dragged
us out of the barn into open day--up through the square, over the hill,
to the Locomotive Depot, giving us on the way many sweet little back
views of Albany and its pretty country and river, and the round tops of
the Catskills in the blue distance beyond. The snort of a steampipe, and
perfume of grease and smoke, announced the vicinity of our locomotive;
and, as if to show off its paces, the engineer whirled the hideous thing
back and forth before our--at least my--nil admirari eyes. Our horses
were unhitched--the engine attached, and away we rushed, leaving our
fine steeds gazing after us with tears in their eyes, to see themselves
outdone by a great tea-kettle.
There are many pretty villas along the road; breathing places for the
heated citizens below, which I would describe to you; but dashing along
at sixteen miles an hour speed I can only catch a glimpse of white
pillar and portico when the next minute we are three miles away. You
must expect no description of the country when I am on a rail road, for
the scenery is all blurred, like a bad lithograph. I only saw groups of
pine trees rushing past and several bright dots which I suppose meant
wild flowers when we came in sight of Schenectady, an antique dutch
town. Before entering it I was struck by the vision of two immense
tarred ropes walking deliberately beside our car, and discovered we were
upon an inclined plain, descending which, cars of stone were brought up
at the other end of our ropes. Our steam horse was once more exchanged
for one of flesh and we set off upon a jog trot. Near the city we passed
a canal basin in which lay several canal boats, for the Erie Canal
passes through here. We entered the city, crossed the end of a long
street filled with bright looking shops, where people and horses were
frisking about in the morning air,--when another large depot received us
in its barn-like expanse. The Ballston and Saratoga train entered at the
other end, and you may imagine the charming confusion as the people of
both trains jumped in and out the carriages, marched and counter marched
until they had settled down into their several seats.
We were not suffered long to look upon this pleasant picture, for at 9
o’clock we were on our way to Utica. We could see but little of
Schenectady while passing through it, but it looked well at a distance.
Upon an eminence above the town stands Union College a fine building of
grey stone.
Schenectady is an Indian name spelt by them Schan-naugh-ta-da; meaning
‘the Pine Plains,’ a fitting name, for the pine is universal here. This
town has been the property of many different nations--the Mohawk, the
French, the Dutch, and the English having each in succession ruled its
destinies.
After leaving the town, we entered at once the glorious valley of the
Mohawk which runs nearly westerly, and whose course we followed eighty
miles to Utica. There may be lovelier vallies in the world, but
certainly not another like this, for it is unique in its kind. Imagine a
long green valley covered with rich farms--through its centre a bright
transparent river, having a rail road on one bank and a canal on the
other; while a range of hills frame in the picture on each side. So
straight is this valley, that canal, river, and rail road run parallel,
and within sight of each other nearly all the way.
It was one of June’s sweetest mornings when we passed the shores of the
pretty Mohawk, and I was never weary of gazing down into its smiling
face, as we glided along; or of watching the lazy canal boat dragging
its rich freight at the foot of those soft green hills opposite; or, of
peeping out the coach at the rugged cliffs, which reared their bare
heads far above our road.
There are many little villages on this route, where we stopped to
refresh ourselves, or to fill the engine. The first was Amsterdam a
small Dutch settlement. Near this place stands a handsome stone edifice
which is renowned in the annals of New York as the residence of Grey
Johnson and his brother Sir William, the dreamer. At these towns there
are hotels, and at other spots refreshment houses, built at the road
side, where you are allowed a few minutes to rest. You are shown into
large rooms set out with long narrow tables, bearing loads of coffee,
oysters, cakes, pies, fruit lemonade, etc.,--you pile your plate with
good things, stir around your coffee or tea, when tingle! goes the bell
‘all aboard!’ rings in your ears, and you have just time to put your 25
cents into the attendants hands and yourself in a car when puff! and
away you go. Some of these towns are pretty, as St Johns, Fonda,
Canajoharie, Herkimer, and many others.--What hungry people these
travellers are! at every refreshment station the tables were crowded and
at the signal they rushed into the cars each with a cake or pie, or
apple, to finish at his leisure. We may say with Horace,
‘At Fundi we refused to bait.’
One would imagine he was speaking of our little Fonda, which is here
pronounced as Horace spells it. It was named after the celebrated Col.
Fonda.
Fort Plain is a pretty place on the other bank of the river; here I
longed to ‘stay one turn’ to hammer a specimen from the encrinal
lime-rock which is found there. The little falls of the Mohawk is a
delightful place. The river here forces its way through a rocky country
and falls over successive ledges of rock in pretty cascades. The beauty
of the scene does not consist in altitude, but in number and variety of
these saults; and the foaming river rushing over its rocky bottom or
winding around its tiney islets, and in the towering cliffs around it.
The village is seated upon each side of the river, connected by a
handsome marble aqueduct leading to the canal basin, and by a neat
bridge for carriages. The scene as we approached was very pretty. You
see a frame work of rugged cliffs, enclosing a noisy rushing river with
numerous cascades, its shores crowned with white buildings, and spanned
by a noble bridge; the canal boat is seen creeping at the foot of the
hills opposite, while the steeples, court house and hotels, are peeping
from the trees which cover the sloping bank at our right. Perched upon
every jutting point and grouped around the shores were many shanties
occupied by the children of Erin who have kindly volunteered to make our
rail roads and canals.
When the train stopped before the hotel, instead of the usual sound of
‘Newspapers,’ or ‘Nuts,’ or ‘Apples to sell,’ I heard young voices
asking if we wanted some diamonds! Surprised, I looked out and beheld
several little girls holding up small boxes containing Quartz Crystals.
We of course became purchasers, and found among them some very perfect
and pure. ‘Where do you find these?’ I asked. ‘Oh, all among the cliffs
ma’am,’ she answered in the Hibernian tongue--‘and if its stop ye wud,
I’d show ye to the diamond holes where I often dig up the _ful_ of my
pocket.’ We observed this was a large town, having several churches,
dwellings, a handsome court house, and many large manufacturers.
Geologists tell us this was one shore of that lake of which the
highlands were the southern boundary. How it came to wear through these
hills and run away to the sea no one can ever know. The rocks here are
limestone, principally; but I observed there was with it some fine
granite. There was an old man among our passengers, who had lived here
‘when all this was a wilderness.’ He amused us with some stories of past
times; one of which I think interesting enough to tell you. Here it is
to fill up the page.
During the War of Independence there were two brothers, who, although
they were brothers, could not think alike; they joined opposite sides in
the war. It happened while the Division under Gen. Herkimer was
destitute of arms, ammunition and clothing, he heard of the approach of
the English troops. Fight he could not; fly he would not; and he was
seeking some stratagem to better his situation, when fortunately, for
him, the English brother having strayed too near his camp was taken up
as a spy. The brothers, who had been long separated met once more; but
it was a bitter meeting, for one was a prisoner and condemned to die. In
spite of their different sentiments they loved each other. The prisoner
earnestly entreated his brother, who was the General’s Aid, to use all
the influence in his power to save his life. The Aid was conscious he
could not succeed unless he made the ‘worse appear the better reason;’
for his brother had been fairly captured as a spy, and in consequence of
some bloody deeds of the enemy, his life was to be forfeited. With a
heavy heart and darkened brow he entered the General’s tent.
‘I know what you would ask ere you speak’ said his commander. ‘I have
expected you and have determined upon my course. You come to ask your
brother’s life--it is your’s upon one condition.’ ‘Name it! I am not
afraid to agree to any thing my General may propose!’ ‘I require you to
go over to the enemy as a deserter--tell them exactly of our numbers;
for I have learnt they do not imagine we are so strong; conceal the
state of our arms and provisions; and if I am not much mistaken, they
will immediately withdraw when they know how large is our force. You are
then to find your way back again as you can. When you return your
brother shall be free.’
For one moment the Aid hesitated. To appear as a deserter--to act the
spy--to deceive even an enemy, was adverse to his open noble
nature--there was also danger of discovery when returning, which would
lead to disgrace and death.
‘Well young man! what is your determination?’ asked the General. ‘I will
go, and trust in heaven and in you.’ He sought the enemy’s camp, was
imprisoned as a spy--but his feigned tale procured his liberation. The
enemy retreated before so large a force, which they could have conquered
if they had known their distressed condition. It was many months ere the
Aid rejoined his General. His brother was released, and after a parting
full of sorrow they separated never to meet again.
We arrived at Utica at three o’clock, and repaired immediately to
Baggs’s hotel. Here we found an excellent dinner, just ready, which to
hungry travellers is a cheering sight. As I promised to put down our
expenses, we pay $3,75 each, from Albany to Utica, eighty miles. We here
concluded to leave the train, and spend a few days at the celebrated
Trenton falls. After partaking a very nice dinner at Bagg’s hotel, we
entered a neat carriage for Trenton falls, 14 miles north of Utica. The
drive is a pretty one, and up hill all the way. We arrived at dark at a
small inn in a forest, and were obliged to defer our visit to the
cascade until the next morning.
After breakfast we walked out to visit the falls. Our way was through a
deep forest breathing forth sweet fragrance in the early morning air.
Suddenly, in the midst of the woods, we found ourselves upon the brink
of a precipice, one side of a narrow chasm two hundred feet deep, while,
too far below to be heard, a mountain torrent was rushing and foaming
over the rock. A range of five ladder stairways led down the steep,--and
as we thus hung over the water, we felt very much like some of
Shakespear’s samphire gatherers, and thought what a ‘dreadful trade’ was
hunting waterfalls. Safely down, we found a narrow ravine, so filled
with the roaring torrent, that there was scarcely room for a pathway
beside it. Part of the way a chain was inserted into the rock that we
might, by holding upon it, pass the boiling whirlpool, if our nerves are
strong enough to command our hands and feet--so scrambling, climbing,
swinging, we contrived to reach the uppermost cascade, which is two
miles from the last one. This stream, called the West Canada Creek,
falls down a deep ravine over successive ledges of rock, in six small
cascades of great beauty. The highest is only fifty feet high. The sides
of the ravine are precipitous, and covered with the beautiful foliage of
numerous trees. Among them are many evergreen trees--of these I remarked
the stately white pine, which grows over one hundred feet high and
perfectly straight; the red pine, with its dark green leaves, and yellow
cones; the black spruce and the lofty birch. The rocks are slate and
transition lime stone of the silurian series, abounding with
petrifaction, of which many are perfect trilobites. Quartz crystals are
also found here in great beauty and profusion. This place has been the
scene of some tragic events--one of them most pitiable. A young girl sat
out upon a pleasure tour, accompanied by her mother, father, and
affianced husband. They came to this place, no warning spirit pressing
them back, no drear omen warning them away, and no dream or presentment
checking their steps. Gaily they descended the stairs, and clambered the
rocks--the lover with the hand of his betrothed in his; the father and
mother behind. Being thus led along, did not accord with her playful
spirit, and telling him she could take care of herself, she in an evil
moment withdrew her hand. His charge to be careful was answered by
smiling asseverations of her sure-footedness; he turned with another
admonition and she was gone! Where is she? He looks in every direction.
She has hid herself in play; he calls; no answer but the torrents roar;
she has rejoined her parents; he turns towards them and sees them
quietly reposing together upon a rock. His pallid look--his wildness, as
rooted to the spot, he gazes upon them, tells them the tale of woe, soon
bitterly confirmed by her pretty bonnet of straw, which was at that
moment whirled past their feet. Oh, the agony of those hearts as they
stood beside that dark torrent, away from all help, and powerless to
save their beloved one. The guide was despatched to the village for
help, but not until three days after was she found a mile below; her
tender form having been thus far carried over rocks and whirlpools.
Another family party came to view these scenes. A tender girl of eleven
years was for security consigned to the valet’s arms. One false step
plunged him into the torrent--he struggled to the shore, but the
parent’s pretty fondling was lost to them in life. The body was the next
day found.
As I stood upon the slippery rock, while these events were floating
through my memory, their scenes pointed out to me by the guide; the
place lost all its beauty, and the dashing torrent seemed some huge
monster, seeking whom he might suck beneath his horrid depths. I grew
nervous, and much to my companions surprise, begged him to return. He,
rejoicing in the fresh country air, and released from the city’s dust,
ran over the rocks with, to me, an alarming quickness, and I turned to
depart. Why these beloved ones should be thus snatched away from their
fond relatives; taken from their homes to find their death in this wild
spot, is to us unknown. He who commanded this, has purposes, to us
unscrutable; perhaps it was to read a lesson to those who hear the tale,
to teach them the uncertain hold they have upon life, and all its
pleasures, and to fear that power which can in an unlooked for moment,
bear them from life to eternity. There are hundreds every season who
stand upon this spot, and hear this story, and the heart which is not
affected by it must be as the hearts of the petrified animals around
them.
We spent several days here, riding and walking among the romantic
scenery.
The village of Trenton Falls is a small one, containing a few shops, and
cottages and two churches, one of which is quite pretty. The ride
towards Utica is very beautiful. The ground descends on each side to the
Mohawk valley, and while our road wound down this side, we had the whole
slope of the other side before our eyes, covered with orchards and
fields, and dotted with villages. The town of Clinton with Hamilton
college, stands upon elevated ground, while, below, at the river’s brink
is spread the city of Utica. Here we spent a day looking about its
streets and shops. The ground slopes down to the river, near which are
the business streets, while most of the dwelling houses are upon the
more airy and elevated portion of the city. Genessee street is a fine
wide avenue leading up the hill, lined upon each side with shops,
hotels, churches, libraries, museums, &c. The canal is here crossed by a
pretty bridge. The houses were substantially built, surrounded, many of
them, by gardens, and appeared very comfortable residences. The business
part of the city show rows of well built ware-houses, and were filled
with people and carts passing to and fro, as if their trade was an
active one and their city thriving. The Erie canal has brought much
trade to this place, which now is one of the most flourishing inland
towns in the State. The canal boats, stages, and rail trains which are
constantly arriving and departing give a stirring appearance to the
place. Religion, education, and literature, engage the attention of the
inhabitants who support sixteen churches, and many seminaries and
literary institutions. The population in 1835, was 10,183, to which now
of course, several thousands must be added. It is situated in Oneida
County, which was selected by the celebrated Baron Steuben as his
retreat, and here he was buried.
* * * * *
_June 21st._--We left Utica to-day in the three o’clock train for
Auburn. About four miles from the city we passed a small town called
Whitesborough, a pretty place, with two churches, an academy, and a
building called the Oneida Institute. There is also here a manual labor
school. A large unfinished building just outside of Utica, we learned
was to be a lunatic asylum, calculated to accommodate one thousand
patients--God pity them.
Several pretty towns lay upon our route: as Rome, Manlius, Canastola,
etc. Sweet retreats from the confusion of a city without the solitude of
the country. The canal and railroad which run through or near these
towns present facilities for trade or travelling. Rome is a place of
considerable importance, containing five churches, a court house,
academy, several shops and dwellings. The population, five years since,
amounted to 4,800. When arrived at Syracuse we drove up to a large good
looking stone building bearing the name of Syracuse House. There we
stopped to take tea. This place is sixty miles from Utica: enjoys
considerable trade, but is still in its teens, having arisen since the
canal passed through that part of the country. The Oswego canal joins
the Erie here, which, with the salt works near, brings them much
business. The population is 7,000. We observed in passing through it,
several good churches, a pretty court house, substantial ware houses,
numerous shops and dwellings, with a lyceum and high school, so that it
would seem the inhabitants ought to be wealthy, refined, and well
educated. The salt springs are at Salina, one mile and a half from
Syracuse, where there are eighty manufactories of this material. These
salt springs flow from beds of slate, in some places two hundred feet
thick. Among the layers are masses of vermicular rock, whose interstices
are supposed once to have been filled with salt. In this region of
country are extensive gypsum beds; water lime is also found in
profusion. Sandstone, generally old red, and lime-stones, are the
prevailing formations of the county.
It was a beautiful evening when we left Syracuse. The sky, every where
of a clear deep blue, paled gradually as it approached the west, where
it was lost in a rich golden glow. The spires of the town behind us,
reflected this brilliant hue, and the country as we passed, looked like
one of Turner’s _one colored_ pictures. Onondaga lake with the pretty
village reposing upon its shore, and the rich fields around it, were all
touched with this golden pencil. The fields were strewn with salt vats,
where the salt was undergoing evaporation, which were covered with low
sheds, probably taken off in the morning, as it was now late Saturday
afternoon, and this might have been to protect them from the weather. It
was quite dark when we reached Auburn. We left the cars at the railroad
depot, and were provided with carriages to the American Hotel. Here,
large commodious bed rooms, and luxurious mattresses, received your
weary friends. I lingered a while to write you the events of the day,
but must now hasten to bid you--adieu.
* * * * *
_Sunday, June 22d._--This morning we visited the first presbyterian
church, a large handsome edifice of brick. The pulpit was neat, and the
seats and backs of the pews comfortably lined with horse hair. From Mr.
Lathrop, the clergyman, we heard a very good discourse. The baptist and
several other churches struck us as very neat and tasteful. The
episcopal is in the gothic style, the interior lined with oak, and
containing a handsome monument of Bishop Hobart, who died in this place.
The hotels are showy handsome buildings, particularly the Auburn House,
and the American, where we have taken up our quarters. This last is
built of grey limestone from that neighborhood, and is surrounded by two
rows of piazzas supported by handsome pillars. Opposite to it is the
court house, quite a little palace in appearance. It is in the Parthenon
form with a portico and high pillars, with the questionable addition of
a large dome. From the cupola of an hotel, we obtained a charming view
of this beautiful town and its environs. ‘A palace and a prison on each
hand,’ I exclaimed as I glanced around, for behind was the grand court
house, and in front arose the gloomy walls and towers of our famous
State Prison. We saw from here the Theological Seminary, several
handsome churches, hotels, elegant private dwellings, and streets of
shops; while the outside of the circle presented a charming and varied
range of fields, and hills, and groves and streams. It seemed indeed the
loveliest village of the plain around, and I expressed my surprise at
seeing so large and well built a town ‘so far off.’ My companion told
me it was too near the commencement of our journey to be astonished yet,
I had Rochester, and Buffalo, and Cincinnati to see. This town has a
population of nearly 7,000, I do not know exactly, but refer you to the
Gazetteers. Those of our friends whom we visited gave the place a fine
character for good society, and told us they enjoyed all the
conveniences and elegances of life, with good pastors and good books. In
twenty-four hours any thing can reach them from New York. The prison
presents an imposing appearance. It is built of dark stone with gothic
ornaments, and consist of first, a high wall enclosing a large square,
in the centre of which, rises a massive pile of building surmounted by a
cupola. This building is arranged on three sides of a square, the centre
276, the other 242 feet long. In this are the eating rooms, hospital,
chapel, and cells. The work shops are erected against the wall leaving a
space for the keeper to walk around and gaze upon them through holes for
the purpose, himself unseen. It is a dismal life these poor creatures
lead, not only encarcerated from the world, but confined alone, and
forbidden even to speak to a fellow prisoner when they meet at table or
in the shops. They pass the life of La Trappe monks, except that it is
against their will. At table they sit in rows with their faces one way,
so that they cannot even see each other. However, this solitary and
silent existence is said to be the best and most successful method of
restraining and reforming the unhappy convict. In solitude they have
time for reflection, and silence prevents corruption from their fellow
criminals. They have religious instruction, which has converted
several. I cannot but think it a very efficient arrangement. The guilty
man is stopped in his mad career, and solitude, silence, and time for
reflection, and religious counsel, are blessings placed in his path. In
the mean while his bodily wants are attended to, he is supplied with
nutritious food, well ventillated rooms, with nurses and physicians. He
is obliged to work, and the fruits of his labor go to defray the prison
expenses. We saw carriages, shoes, cabinet-ware, and various other
articles made by them, offered for sale in the shops of the village.[1]