houses; there is nothing very deserving of attention in it, excepting it
be the very neat and commodious wooden bridge that has been thrown
across the Raritan River, which is about two hundred paces over. The
part over the channel is contrived to draw up, and on each side is a
footway guarded by rails, and ornamented with lamps. Elizabeth Town and
Newark, which you afterwards pass through in succession, are both of
them cheerful lively looking places: neither of them is paved. Newark is
built in a straggling manner, and has very much the appearance of a
large English village: there is agreeable society in this town. These
two towns are only eight miles apart, and each of them has one or two
excellent churches, whose tall spires appear very beautiful as you
approach at a distance, peeping up above the woods by which they are
encircled.
The state of New Jersey, measured from north to south, is about one
hundred and sixty miles in length; it varies in breadth from forty to
eighty miles. The northern part of it is crossed by the blue ridge of
mountains, running through Pennsylvania; and shooting off in different
directions from this ridge, there are several other small mountains in
the neighbourhood. The southern part of the state, on the contrary,
which lies towards the sea, is extremely flat and sandy; it is covered
for miles together with pine trees alone, usually called pine barrens,
and is very little cultivated. The middle part, which is crossed in
going from Philadelphia to New York, abounds with extensive traits of
good land; the soil varies, however, considerably, in some places being
sandy, in others stoney, and in others consisting of a rich brown mould.
This part of the state, as far as Newark, is on the whole well
cultivated, and scattered about in different places are some excellent
farm houses; a good deal of uncleared land, however, still remains.
Beyond Newark the country is extremely flat and marshy. Between the town
and the Posaick River there is one marsh, which alone extends upwards of
twenty miles, and is about two miles wide where you pass over it. The
road is here formed with large logs of wood laid close together, and on
each side are ditches to keep it dry. This was the first place where we
met with musquitoes, and they annoyed us not a little in passing.
Towards the latter end of the summer Philadelphia is much infested with
them; but they had not made their appearance when we left that city. The
Posaik River runs close upon the borders of this marsh, and there is an
excellent wooden bridge across it, somewhat similar to that at New
Brunswick over the Raritan River. About fifteen miles above it there is
a very remarkable fall in the river. The river, at the fall, is about
forty yards wide, and flows with a gentle current till it comes within a
few perches of the edge of the fall, when it suddenly precipitates
itself, in one entire sheet, over a ledge of rocks of nearly eighty feet
in perpendicular height; below, it runs on through a chasm, formed of
immense rocks on each side; they are higher than the fall, and seem to
have been once united together.
[Sidenote: COPPER MINE.]
In this neighbourhood there is a very rich copper mine: repeated
attempts have been made to work it; but whether the price of labour be
too great for such an undertaking, or the proprietors have not proceeded
with judgment, certain it is, that they have always miscarried, and
sustained very considerable losses thereby. This mine was first
discovered in 1751, by a person who, passing along about three o’clock
in the morning, observed a blue flame, about the size of a man, issuing
from the earth, which afterwards soon died away: he marked the place
with a stake, and when the hill was opened, several large lumps of
virgin copper were found. The vein of copper in the mine is said to be
much richer now than when first opened.
From the Posaik to the North River the country is hilly, barren, and
uninteresting, till you come very near the latter, when a noble view
opens all at once of the city of New York on the opposite shore, of the
harbour, and shipping. The river, which is very grand, can be traced for
several miles above the city; the banks are very steep on the Jersey
side, and beautifully wooded, the trees almost dipping into the water:
numbers of vessels plying about in every part render the scene extremely
sprightly and interesting.
[Sidenote: NEW YORK.]
New York is built on an island of its own name, formed by the North and
the East Rivers, and a creek or inlet connecting both of these together.
The island is fourteen miles long, and, on an average, about one mile in
breadth; at its southern extremity stands the city, which extends from
one river to the other. The North, or Hudson River, is nearly two miles
wide; the East, or the North-east one, as it should rather be called, is
not quite so broad. The depth of water in each, close to the city, is
sufficient for the largest merchant vessels. The principal seat of
trade, however, is on the East River, and most of the vessels lie there,
as during winter the navigation of that river is not so soon impeded by
the ice. At this side of the town the houses and stores are built as
closely as possible. The streets are narrow and inconvenient, and, as
but too commonly is the case in sea-port towns, very dirty, and,
consequently, during the summer season, dreadfully unhealthy. It was in
this part of the town that the yellow fever raged with such violence in
1795; and during 1796, many persons that remained very constantly there
also fell victims to a fever, which, if not the yellow fever, was very
like it. The streets near the North River are much more airy; but the
most agreeable part of the town is in the neighbourhood of the battery,
on the southern point of the island, at the confluence of the two
rivers. When New York was in possession of the English, this battery
consisted of two or more tiers of guns, one above the other; but it is
now cut down, and affords a most charming walk, and, on a summer’s
evening, is crowded with people, as it is open to the breezes from the
sea, which render it particularly agreeable at that season. There is a
fine view from it of the roads, Long and Staten Islands, and Jersey
shore. At the time of high water the scene is always interesting on
account of the number of vessels sailing in and out of port; such as go
into the East River pass within a few yards of the walls of the battery.
From the battery a handsome street, about seventy feet wide, called
Broadway, runs due north through the town; between it and the North
River run several streets at right angles, as you pass which you catch a
view of the water, and boats plying up and down; the distant shore of
the river also is seen to great advantage. Had the streets on the
opposite side of Broadway been also carried down to the East River, the
effect would have been beautiful, for Broadway runs along a ridge or
high ground between the two rivers; it would have contributed also very
much to the health of the place; if, added to this, a spacious quay had
been formed the entire length of the city, on either side, instead of
having the borders of the rivers crowded with confused heaps of wooden
store houses, built upon wharfs projecting one beyond another in every
direction, New York would have been one of the most beautiful sea-ports
in the world. All the sea-ports in America appear to great disadvantage
from the water, when you approach near to them, from the shores being
crowded in this manner with irregular masses of wooden houses, standing
as it were in the water. The federal city, where they have already begun
to erect the same kind of wooden wharfs and storehouses without any
regularity, will be just the same. It is astonishing, that in laying out
that city a grand quay was not thought of in the plan; it would
certainly have afforded equal, if not greater accommodation for the
shipping, and it would have added wonderfully to the embellishment of
the city.
Many of the private houses in New York are very good, particularly those
in Broadway. Of the public buildings there are none which are very
striking. The churches and houses for public worship amount to no less
than twenty-two; four of them are for Presbyterians, three for
Episcopalians of the church of England, three for Dutch Reformists, two
for German Lutherans and Calvinists, two for Quakers, two for Baptists,
two for Methodists, one for French Protestants, one for Moravians, one
for Roman Catholics, and one for Jews.
[Sidenote: INHABITANTS.]
According to the census in 1790, the number of inhabitants in New York
was found to be thirty thousand one hundred and forty-eight free
persons, and two thousand one hundred and eighty slaves; but at present
the number is supposed to amount at least to forty thousand. The
inhabitants have long been distinguished above those of all the other
towns in the United States, except it be the people of Charleston, for
their politeness, gaiety, and hospitality; and, indeed, in these points
they are most strikingly superior to the inhabitants of the other large
towns. Their public amusements consist in dancing and card assemblies,
and theatrical exhibitions; for the former a spacious suite of rooms has
lately been, erected. The theatre is of wood, and a most miserable
edifice it is; but a new one is now building on a grand scale, which, it
is thought, will be as much too large for the town as the other is too
small.
[Sidenote: PASSAGE TO ALBANY.]
Being anxious to proceed on our journey before the season was too far
advanced, and also particularly desirous of quitting New York on account
of the fevers, which, it was rumoured, were increasing very fast, we
took our passage for Albany in one of the sloops trading constantly on
the North River, between New York and that place, and embarked on the
second day of July, about two o’clock in the afternoon. Scarcely a
breath of air was stirring at the time; but the tide carried us up at
the rate of about two miles and a half an hour. The sky remained all day
as serene as possible, and as the water was perfectly smooth, it
reflected in a most beautiful manner the images of the various objects
on the shore, and of the numerous vessels dispersed along the river at
different distances, and which seemed to glide along, as it were, by the
power of magic, for the sails, all hung down loose and motionless. The
sun, setting in all his glory, added fresh beauties to this calm and
peaceable scene, and permitted us for the last time to behold the
distant spires of New York, illumined by his parting rays. To describe
all the grand and beautiful prospects presented to the view on passing
along this noble river, would be an endless talk; all the various
effects that can be supposed to arise from a happy combination of wood
and water, of hill and dale, are here seen in the greatest perfection.
In some places the river expands to the breadth of five or six miles, in
others it narrows to that of a few hundred yards, and in various parts
it is interspersed with islands; in some places again its course can be
traced as far as the eye can reach, whilst in others it is suddenly lost
to the view, as it winds between its lofty banks; here mountains covered
with rocks and trees rise almost perpendicularly out of the water; there
a fine champaign country presents itself, cultivated to the very margin
of the river, whilst neat farm houses and distant towns embellish the
charming landscapes.
[Illustration:
VIEW _on the_ HUDSON RIVER
]
After sunset, a brisk wind sprang up, which carried us on at the rate of
six or seven miles an hour for a considerable part of the night; but for
some hours we had to lie at anchor at a place where the navigation of
the river was too difficult to proceed in the dark. Our sloop was no
more than seventy tons burthen by register; but the accommodations she
afforded were most excellent, and far superior to what might be expected
on board so small a vessel; the cabin was equally large with that in a
common merchant vessel of three hundred tons, built for crossing the
ocean. This was owing to the great breadth of her beam, which was no
less than twenty-two feet and a half although her length was only
fifty-five feet. All the sloops engaged in this trade are built nearly
on the same construction; short, broad, and very shallow, few of them
draw more than five or six feet water, so that they are only calculated
for sailing upon smooth water.
Early the next morning we found ourselves opposite to West Point, a
place rendered remarkable in history by the desertion of General Arnold,
during the American war, and the consequent death of the unfortunate
Major André. The fort stands about one hundred and fifty feet above the
level of the water, on the side of a barren hill; no human creature
appearing in it except the solitary sentinel, who marched backwards and
forwards on the ramparts overgrown with long grass, it had a most
melancholy aspect that perhaps was heightened by the gloominess of the
morning, and the recollection of all the circumstances attending the
unhappy fate of poor André.
Near West Point there is also another post, called Fort Putnam, which,
since the peace, has been suffered to get very much out of repair;
however, steps are now taking to have it put in good order. Supposing
that a rupture should ever unfortunately again take place between Great
Britain and the United States of America, these posts would be of the
greatest consequence, as they form a link in that chain of posts which
extend the whole way along the navigable waters that connect the British
settlements with New York.
[Sidenote: ALBANY.]
In this neighbourhood the highlands, as they are called, commence, and
extend along the river on each side for several miles. The breadth of
the river is here considerably contracted, and such sudden gusts of
wind, coming from between the mountains, sometimes blow through the
narrow passes, that vessels frequently have their topmasts carried away.
The captain of the sloop we were in, said, that his mainsail was once
blown into tatters in an instant, and a part of it carried on shore.
When the sky is lowering, they usually take in sail going along this
part of the river.
About four o’clock in the morning of the fourth of July we reached
Albany, the place of our destination, one hundred and sixty miles
distant from New York.
Albany is a city, and contains about eleven hundred houses; the number
however is increasing fast, particularly since the removal of the state
government from New York. In the old part of the town the streets are
very narrow and the houses are frightful; they are all built in the old
Dutch taste, with the gable end towards the street, and ornamented on
the top with large iron weather cocks; but in that part which has been
lately erected, the streets are commodious, and many of the houses are
handsome. Great pains have been taken to have the streets well paved and
lighted. Here are four places for public worship, and an hospital.
Albany is in summer time a very disagreeable place; it stands in a low
situation, just on the margin of the river, which runs very slowly here,
and towards the evening often exhales clouds of vapours; immediately
behind the town, likewise, is a large sand bank, that prevents a free
circulation of air, while at the same time it powerfully reflects the
rays of the sun, which shines in full force upon it the whole day.
Notwithstanding all this, however, the climate is deemed very
salubrious.
The inhabitants of this place, a few years ago, were almost entirely of
Dutch extraction; but now strangers are flocking to it from all
quarters, as there are few places in America more advantageously
situated for commerce. The flourishing state of its trade has already
been mentioned; it bids fair to rival that of New York in process of
time.
[Sidenote: ALBANY.]
The fourth of July, the day of our arrival at Albany, was the
anniversary of the declaration of American independence, and on our
arrival we were told that great preparations were making for its
celebration[26]. A drum and trumpet, towards the middle of the day, gave
notice of the commencement of the rejoicings, and on walking to a hill
about a quarter of a mile from the town, we saw sixty men drawn up,
partly militia, partly volunteers, partly infantry, partly cavalry; the
latter were clothed in scarlet, and mounted on horses of various
descriptions. About three hundred spectators attended. A few rounds were
fired from a three pounder, and some volleys of small arms. The firing
was finished before one hour was expired, and then the troops returned
to town, a party of militia officers in uniform marching in the rear,
under the shade of umbrellas, as the day was excessively hot. Having
reached town, the whole body immediately dispersed. The volunteers and
militia officers afterwards dined together, and so ended the rejoicings
of the day; no public ball, no general entertainment was there of any
description. A day still fresh in the memory of every American, and
which appears so glorious in the annals of their country, would, it
might be expected, have called forth more brilliant and more general
rejoicings; but the downright phlegmatic people in this neighbourhood,
intent upon making money, and enjoying the solid advantages of the
revolution, are but little disposed to waste their time in what they
consider idle demonstrations of joy.
Footnote 26:
Our landlord, as soon as he found out who we were, immediately came to
us, to request that we would excuse the confused state in which his
house was, as this was the anniversary day of “American Independence,”
or, as some, indeed, more properly called it, of “American
Repentance.” We were all of us not a little surprised at this address,
and from such a person; instances, however, are not wanting of people
openly declaring, that they have never enjoyed so much quiet and
happiness in their own homes since the revolution as they did when the
states were the colonies of Great Britain. Amongst the planters in
Virginia I heard language of this sort more than once.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
+LETTER + XX.
_Departure from Albany.—Difficulty of hiring a Carriage.—Arrival
at Cohoz.—Description of the curious Fall there of the
Mohawk River.—Still-water.—Saratoga.—Few of the Works
remaining there.—Singular Mineral Springs near Saratoga.—Fort
Edward.—Miss M‘Crea cruelly murdered there by Indians.—Fort Ann,
wretched Road thither.—Some Observations on the American
Woods.—Horses jaded.—Difficulty of getting forward.—Arrive at
Skenesborough.—Dreadfully infested by Musquitoes.—Particular
Description of that Insect.—Great Danger ensues sometimes from their
Bite.—Best Remedy._
[Illustration:
VIEW _of the_ COHOZ FALL.
]
MY DEAR SIR, Skenesborough, July.
[Sidenote: COHOZ FALL.]
WE remained in Albany for a few days, and then set off for
Skenesborough, upon Lake Champlain, in a carriage hired for the purpose.
The hiring of this vehicle was a matter attended with some trouble, and
detained us longer in the town than we wished to stay. There were only
two carriages to be had in the whole place, and the owners having an
understanding with each other, and thinking that we should be forced to
give whatever price they asked, positively refused to let us have either
of them for less than seventy dollars, equal to fifteen guineas. We on
our part as positively refused to comply with a demand which we knew to
be exorbitant, and resolved to wait patiently in Albany for some other
conveyance, rather than submit to such an imposition. The fellows held
out for two days, but at the end of that time one of them came to tell
us we might have his carriage for half the price, and accordingly we
took it.
Early the next morning we set off, and in about two hours arrived at the
small village of Cohoz, close to which is the remarkable fall in the
Mohawk River. This river takes its rise to the north-east of Lake
Oneida, and after a course of one hundred and forty miles, disembogues
into the Hudson or North River, about ten miles above Albany. The Cohoz
Fall is about three miles distant from its mouth. The breadth of the
river is three hundred yards; a ledge of rocks extends quite across, and
from the top of them the water falls about fifty feet perpendicular; the
line of the fall from one side of the river to the other is nearly
straight. The appearance of this fall varies very much, according to the
quantity of water; when the river is full, the water descends in an
unbroken sheet from one bank to the other, whilst at other times the
greater part of the rocks are left uncovered. The rocks are of a
remarkable dark colour, and so also is the earth in the banks, which
rise to a great height on either side. There is a very pleasing view of
this cataract as you pass over the bridge across the river, about three
quarters of a mile lower down.
From hence we proceeded along the banks of the Hudson River, through the
town of Still-water, which receives its name from the uncommon stillness
of the river opposite to it, and late in the evening reached Saratoga,
thirty-five miles from Albany. This place contains about forty houses,
and a Dutch reformed church, but they are so scattered about that it has
not the smallest appearance of a town.
[Sidenote: SARATOGA.]
In this neighbourhood, upon the borders of a marsh, are several very
remarkable mineral springs; one of them, in the crater of a rock, of a
pyramidical form, about five feet in height, is particularly curious.
This rock seems to have been formed by the petrifaction of the water:
all the other springs are likewise surrounded with petrifactions of the
same kind. The water in the principal spring, except at the beginning of
the summer, when it regularly overflows, remains about eight inches
below the rim of the crater, and bubbles up as if boiling. The crater is
nine inches in diameter. The various properties of the water have not
been yet ascertained with any great accuracy; but it is said to be
impregnated with a fossile acid and some saline substance; there is also
a great portion of fixed air in it. An opportunity is here afforded for
making some curious experiments.
If animals be put down into the crater, they will be immediately
suffocated; but if not kept there too long they recover again upon being
brought into the open air.
If a lighted candle be put down, the flame will be extinguished in an
instant, and not even the smallest spark left in the wick.
If the water immediately taken from the spring be put into a bottle,
closely corked, and then shaken, either the cork will be forced out with
an explosion, or the bottle will be broken; but if lest in an open
vessel it becomes vapid in less than half an hour. The water is very
pungent to the taste, and acts as a cathartic on some people, as an
emetic on others.
Of the works thrown up at Saratoga by the British and American armies
during the war, there are now scarcely any remains. The country round
about is well cultivated, and the trenches have been mostly levelled by
the plough. We here crossed the Hudson River, and proceeded along its
eastern shore as far as Fort Edward, where it is lost to the view, for
the road still runs on towards the north, whilst the river takes a
sudden bend to the west.
[Sidenote: FORT EDWARD.]