Part 17
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.
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._
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.]
Fort Edward was dismantled prior to the late American war; but the opposite armies, during that unhappy contest, were both in the neighbourhood. Many of the people, whom we found living here, had served as soldiers in the army, and told us a number of interesting particulars relative to several events which happened in this quarter. The landlord of the tavern where we stopped, for one, related all the circumstances attending Miss M‘Crea’s death, and pointed out on a hill, not far from the house, the very spot where she was murdered by the Indians, and the place of her interment. This beautiful young lady had been engaged to an officer in General Burgoyne’s army, who, anxious for her safety, as there were several marauding parties going about in the neighbourhood where she lived, sent a party of trusty Indians to escort her to the camp. These Indians had partly executed their commission, and were approaching with their charge in sight of the British camp, when they were met by another set of Indians belonging to a different tribe, that was also attending the British army at this time. In a few minutes it became a matter of dispute between them which should have the honour of conducting her to the camp; from words they came to blows, and blood was on the point of being drawn, when one of their chiefs, to settle the matter without farther mischief, went up to Miss M‘Crea, and killed her on the spot with a blow of his tomahawk. The object of contention being thus removed, the Indians returned quietly to the camp. The enormity of the crime, however, was too great not to attract public notice, and it turned the minds of every person against the Indians, who had not before witnessed their ferocity on occasions equally shocking to humanity. The impolicy of employing such barbarians was now strongly reprobated, and in a short time afterwards most of them were dismissed from our army.
[Sidenote: WOODS.]