Ocean to Ocean on Horseback. Glazier Willard W.

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СКАЧАТЬ the transformation was so complete that it is almost impossible to realize that this was the scene of so many struggles. The Schenectady of to-day is a busy manufacturing town, with a prosperous farming district about it, whose cornfields and orchards attest the richness of the soil. It is the seat of Union College, a well-known institution of rich endowments and possessing a handsome library of 15,000 volumes. The college was founded in 1795 by a union of several religious sects. Its buildings are plain and substantial, their stuccoed walls suggestive of the good solid work that is accomplished within them from year to year.

      Eighteenth Day

Union Hotel, Fonda, New York,May Twenty-sixth.

      Moved from Schenectady at eight o'clock in the morning. Found the weather delightful and the scenery charming. On either side were the meadows dotted with spring flowers and fertilized by the river, whose shore line of willows and elms was bright with new green. If I were to except the Berkshire Hills, I saw nothing in Massachusetts to surpass, or even equal, the Valley of the Mohawk. It surprised me that poet and novelist had apparently found so little here for legendary romance.

      Had dinner at Amsterdam, sixteen miles from Schenectady, and while halted here had Paul shod for the first time since leaving Boston. Resumed my journey at four o'clock and reached Fonda two hours later. Made twenty-six miles during the day and was now 243 miles from the "Hub." Through the courtesy of Mr. Fisher, my landlord at this place, I was given a verbal sketch of Fonda which made a pleasant addition to my own small store of information. There were no striking characteristics here to attract the traveller's eye and history had not chronicled its modest advancement, but for those who enjoy the sight of peace and prosperity, Fonda has a charm of its own. Around it on all sides the grain fields were under excellent cultivation, with here and there a well-stocked farm, suggesting an agricultural and dairying centre. I found a good night's rest here, envied the people their peaceful existence, and rode away with a sense of complete refreshment.

      Nineteenth Day

Briggs House,Saint Johnsville, New York,May Twenty-seventh.

      Called for Paul at eight o'clock, and after halting a moment at the office of the Mohawk Valley Democrat, crossed the river to Fultonville, which is connected with Fonda by a substantial iron bridge. Passing through this town, an enterprising one for its size, I continued my journey along the south bank of the Mohawk until I reached Canajoharie, where I stopped at the Eldridge House for dinner.

      Here I met another Socrates who had a "favorite prescription" for healing the sore on Paul's back. Spent an hour very pleasantly in the office of the Mohawk Valley Register at Fort Plain, where I learned that Charles W. Elliott of this paper is a son of George W. Elliott, author of "Bonnie Eloise." For many years this song was a great favorite, not only along the Mohawk, but all over the country, and is certainly one of the sweetest ballads of America. There is a swing to the rhythm and charm in the lines which keeps it in memory, and in riding along through the scenes it describes, my thoughts go back to the old days in Rensselaer County, where as a boy I first heard the words.

      "O sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides,

      On its clear winding way to the sea;

      And dearer than all storied streams on earth besides,

      Is this bright rolling river to me.

      But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these,

      Who charms when others all fail,

      Is blue-eyed, bonnie, bonnie Eloise,

      The belle of the Mohawk vale.

      "O sweet are the scenes of my boyhood's sunny years

      That bespangle the gay valley o'er;

      And dear are the friends, seen through memory's fond tears,

      That have lived in the blest days of yore.

      But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these, etc.

      "O sweet are the moments when dreaming I roam

      Through my loved haunts now mossy and gray;

      And dearer than all is my childhood's hallowed home

      That is crumbling now slowly away.

      But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these, etc."

      Reached this place at seven o'clock in the evening and will go on to Little Falls after dinner to-morrow. In the morning I had an opportunity to look about me and admire the unusually fine scenery whose romantic aspect was heightened by a rugged tip of the Adirondacks which runs down into the valley at that point. At the foot of the mountain lies the brisk little town of Saint Johnsville, whose manufacturing interests have given it a reputation for miles around.

      Twentieth Day

Girvan House,Little Falls, New York,May Twenty-eighth.

      Rode to this place from Saint Johnsville after five o'clock in the afternoon, taking the north bank of the river. The effect of the scene in front of me as I traced my way along the valley was most striking. Nearer the town my eye caught the picturesque masses of rock lifting their rugged sides to a height of five hundred feet, the swift waters of the Mohawk rushing along between them. The homes perched all along on the steep hills suggested Swiss scenes and Alpine journeys, but the busy hum and characteristic American push soon dissipated these fancies. The rapid fall of the river here is of great benefit to the manufacturers who are making good use of their excellent water-power in the paper and woollen mills.

      Soon after my arrival, several citizens came into the hotel to learn the particulars of my journey, but before I had time to register, Postmaster Stafford made himself known and introduced me to several of his friends and acquaintances, among them General Curtis and Major Lintner. A laughable story was related which afforded considerable amusement soon after I rode into town. It seems that a credulous old lady from the country had been led to believe that a cavalryman would ride through the place that night on the horse which General Washington rode during the Revolution. A story suggested, no doubt, by the subject of my lecture. She had come in to sell her firkin of butter and had waited until long after dark for the rider and his ancient steed, while the objects of her misguided interest were resting in Saint Johnsville unconscious of the disappointment they were causing.

      Let us hope that she never discovered her mistake, for the old are often sensitive on such points. It is better at times to suffer keen disappointment than to find we have been too credulous.

      Twenty-first Day

12 Cornelia Street,Utica, New York,May Twenty-ninth.

      After considerable trouble in finding a saddle blanket for Paul, to take the place of the saddle cloth used until we reached Little Falls, I started from that romantic town at nine o'clock, halting at Ilion for dinner. This village, well known through the firm of the Remingtons, is on the south bank of the Mohawk, twelve miles from Utica. From here the famous Remington machines and rifles are sent all over the world.

      Farrington met me two miles east of Utica and escorted me back to the city, conducting Colonel Finley and myself to rooms which had been engaged for us through the hospitality of J. C. Bates.

      Left my pleasant quarters here to make a few observations about town, and found much to arrest my attention. A century ago Utica was known as "Old Fort Schuyler" from a small stockade of that name, built on the site in 1750. As the country grew more peaceful, and the life of the future city began, the name was changed. A gradual slope of the land from the river gave from the more elevated parts some very fine views; and the public parks with their shade trees and gay flowers made СКАЧАТЬ