_June 20th_.--On the "Mary Powell," enjoy'd everything beyond precedent.
The delicious tender summer day, just warm enough--the constantly
changing but ever beautiful panorama on both sides of the river--(went
up near a hundred miles)--the high straight walls of the stony
Palisades--beautiful Yonkers, and beautiful Irvington--the never-ending
hills, mostly in rounded lines, swathed with verdure,--the distant
turns, like great shoulders in blue veils--the frequent gray and
brown of the tall-rising rocks--the river itself, now narrowing, now
expanding--the white sails of the many sloops, yachts, &c., some near,
some in the distance--the rapid succession of handsome villages and
cities, (our boat is a swift traveler, and makes few stops)--the
Race--picturesque West Point, and indeed all along--the costly and often
turreted mansions forever showing in some cheery light color, through
the woods--make up the scene.