CHAPTER II.

ALBANY-WEST-POINT-NEW YORK.

WHEN you arrive at the entrance of an American town by the rail cars, the locomotive is removed, and instead, horses are harnessed thereto; the railways are continued through the level streets to the depôt, usually in some central place, and perhaps, on the way, you may be set down at the very door of your hotel.

Albany is one of the oldest cities of the Union; the choice of its situation proves the judgment of the men of those days to have been very good. The name was given in honour of James II., then Duke of York and Albany; but it had previously been called, at different times, after half-a-dozen Dutchmen, probably quite as worthy people as he whose baptism has been most permanent. This place is the capital of the State of New York, and is rich

in very creditable public buildings; the museums, lecture-rooms, academies and other educational arrangements, are very good; there are a handsome square and neat walks shaded by trees-the latter, an improvement which we do not sufficiently cultivate in England. The population is thirty-five thousand; during the summer, it is said that, on an average, a thousand passengers pass through the place every day.

The names of great numbers of the people are Dutch, but their character is become purely American. The hotels are very good, as indeed they now are all through the States; that is, good of their kind, for I do not like their system of management.

About a mile off, from a height over the Foxeskill, there is a magnificent view of the town, the beautiful Catskill mountain, and part of the Hudson river. At Albany I met with some very pleasing people, and with the unvarying American kindness and hospitality; but I cannot go quite so far as an enthusiastic historian of the town, who says, "There are few cities of the same size anywhere which can exhibit a greater or more agreeable variety of society and manners. In Albany may be found talent and learning, accomplishment and

beauty. The towns of Europe of the same size and relative importance can in this respect bear no sort of comparison with it." Though this sort of flourish, and the feelings which dictate it, are exceedingly ridiculous to strangers, I believe them to be greatly effective among the Americans, in fostering a love of country, and that they are thus a positive element of strength. If you persuade a man that he possesses any particular good quality, the chances are that he will acquire it.

I met, in my travels, with several charming instances of this, their happy conviction of superiority in anything and everything. A young lady from a small town in Georgia told me that a friend of hers, a gentleman just returned from Europe, had not seen so much beauty in London and Paris put together, as in the city of Augusta, where she lived. She looked thoroughly persuaded of the truth of his statement, and exceedingly pretty at the same time.

Their great admiration of all that belongs to themselves would appear more amiable, if they did not so often illustrate it by unjust and absurd comparisons. A very intelligent man, who showed me the Mint at Philadelphia, pointed to a machine for stamping coins, of which he seemed very

proud; he was not content with telling me that it was a very fine machine, but must needs add that it was "allowed to be the finest in the world." As I had seen many quite as fine among the buttonmakers at Birmingham, the statement lost some of its effect upon me.

I went down the Hudson in one of the splendid steamers which torture its waters day and night. We passed to the left, the lands of the Van Reunsalaer and Livingstone's Patents-as they are called—the Tipperary of America. These estates are held from original royal grants, by the descendants of the first possessors. They are of great extent, and, under a strong government, would be of immense value. The tenantry paid the very moderate rent charged on their farms pretty regularly, till some years ago, when they came to a determination to put a stop to such an old-fashioned and disagreeable custom; they therefore "repudiated" the rent, and tarred and feathered the men sent to collect it. The militia of the State was called out, but the men composing it were like the spirits of the "vasty deep" and would not come. At length, the anti-renters murdered two of their opponents; this turned the tide of public feeling against them, and more active steps were taken to put them down. The affair has

since ended in a compromise, the landlords having been glad to get anything they could.

I was rather disappointed with the much-extolled beauty of the Hudson river, except with Westpoint, where I stopped, and with its neighbourhood: they are indeed worthy of great praise, but still far inferior to the St. Lawrence, at, and below our beautiful Quebec: I find myself already infected with the spirit of comparison. The military college of Westpoint stands on a high table-land, in a magnificent situation; there is a very good hotel near it. As the land belongs to the government, the license forbids the use of any fermented liquor in the house or neighbourhood, on account of the students. In summer, many people stay here for the enjoyment of the scenery, and of the air, which is purity itself.

The buildings belonging to the institution are, I presume, meant to show all the different styles of architecture, ancient and modern, being varied in the most fantastic manner. The rooms where the cadets sleep are small and inconvenient, those for study are rather better. When I was there, the young men were encamped on the common, with a guard mounted, and all the arrangements of military life; several guns and mortars, of rather a primitive