Chapter IV: Letter III: 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.

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_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.

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_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]