Ocean to Ocean on Horseback

Seventh Day

Berkshire House,Pittsfield, Massachusetts,May Fifteenth.

Rode away from Becket at eight o'clock in the morning, and on the way found it necessary to favor Paul in this day's ride; so I dismounted and walked several miles. This was not a disagreeable task, for my journey lay over the picturesque Hoosac Mountains whose wooded sides and fertile valleys were almost a fairyland of loveliness at this season. Owing to this delay, Pittsfield was not reached until one o'clock. Here I delivered my fourth lecture at the Academy of Music, Captain Brewster, commander of the Pittsfield Post, G. A. R., introducing me.

Eighth Day

Berkshire House,Pittsfield, Massachusetts,May Sixteenth.

Spent the morning at the "Berkshire," posting my journal and attending to private and business correspondence. The afternoon was passed in a stroll through the town, where I saw much that was of interest and gathered some information concerning its early history, progress and present condition.

Of the fourteen counties of Massachusetts, the most strongly marked and highly favored is Berkshire, with its four cardinal boundaries, formed by four different states. To one who sees, for the first time, the luxuriance of its vegetation, the beauty of its forest-covered hills, the broad shady avenues of its villages, with their palatial homes, it seems as if Nature and wealth had combined to make this spot a veritable "Garden of the Gods."

In the exact centre of all this loveliness, more than 1,000 feet above the level of the sea, lies the little city of Pittsfield, containing about 16,000 inhabitants. Its principal streets form a cross, North, South, East, and West streets meeting at an elliptical grove of stately elms forming a small park. Here in old days stood one central tree, its height one hundred and twenty-eight feet, its bare shaft ninety feet, with many a memory of the French and Indian wars attached to it. In 1841, it was struck by lightning. In 1861 it was cut down, even stern men weeping at its fall. It was replaced by a fountain, whose stream may be raised to the height of the old tree. This park also holds a huge shaft of granite, upon which stands the bronze figure of a soldier, flag in hand. On the granite are cut the words, "For the dead a tribute, for the living a memory, for posterity an emblem of devotion to their country's flag." To the west of the park is Pittsfield's large brownstone Post Office, it being the first building on North street, a small business thoroughfare, whose stores, with their dainty wares and tasteful fabrics, would do credit to many a large city.

On the south of the park stands the Athenæum, a building of rough stone, erected at the cost of $100,000 as a "tribute to art, science, and literature," and presented to his fellow-townspeople by Thomas Allen. It contains a large free library, an art gallery, and a very entertaining museum of curiosities. Next door to the Athenæum is the large white Court House, said to have cost $400,000. Across from the Court House, in a little corner of the park, is a tiny music house, gay with colored electric lights, where open air evening concerts are given all through the summer.

On the north of the park stand two of the handsomest of Pittsfield's eleven churches.

The city's manufactories are large and thrifty, but they, and the operatives who manipulate them, are tucked away in a corner, so to speak, where they may not offend the eyes of the opulent inhabitants. Only in the riotous jostle of Saturday night in the store is one brought face to face with the fact that beauty, leisure and wealth do not hold a monopoly of the sweet Berkshire air. For everything appears so lovely. The streets are very wide, great stately avenues, where beautiful strips of the finest lawn border each edge of the sidewalk. Society is the choicest, for the summer residences of New York's four hundred intermingle with the magnificent old mansions owned by the staunchest of Massachusetts' old blue-blooded sons and daughters. Cropping out through the elegance of this little city are some queer old Yankee traits. Lawlessness there is none. No policemen guard the park, with its ideal lawns, but a polite notice informs passers-by that this being no thoroughfare, trespassing will not be tolerated, and there is none. When the concerts are in full blast, people gather in the walks and drives only. Whole rows of little street Arabs may be seen on these occasions, drawn up with their little bare toes touching the very edge of the precious grass. The open music house is always left full of chairs, which no one steals, nay, which no one uses. The entrance to the Court House is filled with blooming plants. No child, no dog even, is ill-bred enough to break one.

But the peculiarities of the people, the beauty of the dwellings, the magnificence of the equipages, the tide of fashionable life which pours in, summer and fall, all, ALL is forgotten as, from some point of vantage, the spectator takes in the beauty surrounding him. "On the west sweep the Taconics, in that majestic curve, whose grace travelers, familiar with the mountain scenery of both hemispheres, pronounce unequaled. On the east the Hoosacs stretch their unbroken battlements, with white villages at their feet, and, if the sunlight favors, paths of mingled lawn and wood, enticing to their summits; while from the south, 'Greylock, cloud-girdled on his purple throne' looks grandly across the valley to the giant heights, keeping watch and ward over the pass where the mountains throw wide their everlasting gates, to let the winding Housatonic flow peacefully toward the sea."

Thus, in taking leave of Massachusetts, I looked back to the starting-point, and thought with pleasure of the many beautiful links in the chain connecting Boston with Pittsfield, none more beautiful than the last.

Ninth Day

Nassau House,Nassau, New York,May Seventeenth.

Ordered my horse at ten in the morning, and before riding on stopped at the office of the Berkshire Eagle to talk a few minutes with the editor. The route from Pittsfield lay over the Boston and Albany Turnpike, one of the villages on the way being West Lebanon. Here we had dinner. While quietly pursuing my journey afterwards, in crossing the Pittsfield Mountain, I overtook Egbert Jolls, a farmer, with whom I had a long and interesting conversation. He amused me with stories of the Lebanon Shakers, among whom he had lived many years, and whose peculiar belief and customs have always set them widely apart from other sects. Perhaps the most singular point in their doctrine is that God is dual, combining in the One Person the eternal Father and Mother of all generated nature. They believe that the revelation of God is progressive, and in its last aspect the manifestation was God revealed in the character of Mother, as an evidence of Divine affection. Ann Lee, the daughter of a Manchester blacksmith, is the founder of the sect, and considered from her holy life to be the human representation of this Divine duality. This is a strange belief, and one that is not generally known, but its adherents have among other good traits one which commends them to the respect of those who know anything of them, and that is their sober and industrious habits.

Soon after crossing the State line between Massachusetts and New York, we passed the home of Governor Samuel J. Tilden. Two years before, this popular Democrat was elected governor, by a plurality of 50,000 votes above his fellow-candidate, John A. Dix. He won popular attention by his strong opposition to certain political abuses; notably the Tweed Charter of 1870; and by incessant activity he was, in 1876, beginning to reap the laurels of a career which began while he was a student at Yale.

CHAPTER V.

FOUR DAYS AT ALBANY

Started from Nassau at eleven o'clock, still following the Boston and Albany Turnpike, and soon reached the Old Barringer Homestead. It was with this family that I spent my first night in Rensselaer County sixteen years before, when a lad of seventeen, I was looking for a school commissioner and a school to teach. Brockway's was another well-known landmark which I could not pass without stopping, for it was here that I boarded the first week after opening my school at Schodack Centre in the autumn of 1859. At the school, too, I dismounted, and found that the teacher was one of my old scholars. The Lewis family, at the hotel just beyond, were waiting my approach with wide-open door; for Oscar Lewis had gone to Albany and had said before he left: "Keep a sharp lookout for Captain Glazier, as he will surely pass this way." It was very pleasant to be met so cordially, although the sight of well-known faces and landmarks brought back the past and made me feel like another Rip Van Winkle.

In crossing the river between Greenbush and Albany, Paul seemed disinclined to stay on board, so the bars had to be put up and every precaution taken. It may have been that the shades of the ferrymen who had run the little craft for the last two hundred years came back to vex us. Perhaps the particular ghost of Hendrick Albertsen, who, two hundred and eight years ago bargained with Killian Van Rensselaer for the privilege of running his boat; but whatever the cause of the disturbance we reached terra firma without accident, and were soon in the familiar streets of the old Dutch town; the day's journey agreeably ended with our trip across the Hudson by the oldest ferry in the United States.

From the river the view of Albany is picturesque in the extreme, where the eye catches the first glimpse of the city, rising from the water's edge, and surmounted then by its brown-domed Capitol. It was a sight that had always had a singular charm for me, for many of the pleasantest hours of my early life were spent here, where my sisters and I were educated. Here I left school to enlist at the opening of the Civil War, and here I published my first book, "Capture, Prison-Pen and Escape." But even if the city had no claim other than its own peculiar attractiveness it would hold an enviable place among its sister cities. The irregularity of its older streets, the tone of its architecture, the lack of the usual push and bustle of an American town, give it an old-world air that makes it interesting. There is a Common in the centre of the city, shaded by old elms, and around this stand the public buildings – the State Hall for state offices and the City Hall for city offices – both of marble and fronting on the Common. The Albany Academy, where Joseph Henry, one of its professors from 1826 to 1832, first demonstrated his theory of the magnetic telegraph. A few squares west of the Common was the stretch of green that has since been set apart for a public park, where the good people of Albany may find an agreeable change of scene and an hour's pleasant recreation.

The New Capitol, on the site of the Old Capitol, is a magnificent edifice in the renaissance style, built of New England granite, at a cost to the State of many millions. On passing quaint bits of architecture or the suggestive aspect of some out-of-the way corner, one turns naturally to the days of wigs and kneebreeches, before the capital of the Empire State was thought of, and when the forests of fair Columbia were overrun by the bronzed warriors who still held undisputed sway. It was back in these days that Henry Hudson, sent from Holland by the Dutch East India Company, in sailing up the "Grande" River in search of a passage to India and China, found that he could not send his ship beyond the point where the city of Hudson now stands. This was discouraging, but sure that the desired passage was found, he and a few of his men pushed farther on in a small craft, landing, it is believed, on the present site of Albany. Later, Hudson and his men returned, assured that the noble river could not take them where they had hoped it might. After them came Dutch traders, led by an enterprising Hollander who had been with Hudson on his first voyage, and who saw a promising field in the red man's country. They established a trading-post where the "Half Moon" had been moored before, and from here carried on their barter with the Indians, exchanging attractive trifles for furs. Other traders followed these, and then came the colonists; a brave little band full of hope and eager to try their fortune in the New World. Their leader was none other than Killian Van Rensselaer, the wealthy pearl merchant of Amsterdam, and one of the directors of the West India Company, who had received a grant from the Prince of Orange for a large tract of land about the Upper Hudson, including the present site of Albany. Here he established his "patroonship," guarding the affairs of the colony, and providing his tenants with comfortable houses and ample barns. And more than this, their spiritual welfare was promoted through the services of the Reverend Doctor Joanes Megapolensis. From his personal accounts we read that the good Dominie found his life among the 'wilden' as full of peril and unceasing labor as that of his flock; for he undertook not only the guidance of his own people, but the enlightenment and conversion of the Indians. To this end he threw himself into the task of mastering their language with true missionary zeal; a task which in those days meant not only difficulty but danger.

Under the shelter of the handsome churches that grace the streets of the Albany of to-day, we see a striking contrast in the primitive house where this pioneer clergyman preached; and from the security of long-established peace, we look back upon those sturdy people of Rensselaerwyck who sowed and reaped and went to church under the protection of the Patroon's guns.

But there came a day when English ships sailed up to the harbor at Manhatoes, and demanded the surrender of the Dutch colonies in the name of the Duke of York and Albany. The terrified people at sight of the guns refused to withstand an attack, and the English quietly came into possession. Van Rensselaer sent down his papers, and Fort Orange surrendered on the twenty-fourth of September, 1664, soon after receiving its new name in honor of the Duke's second title. Twenty-two years later, Albany had the satisfaction of sending two of her representatives, Peter Schuyler and Robert Livingston, to New York to claim her charter as a city; which, upon their return, was received, according to the old chronicler, "with all ye joy and acclamation imaginable."

Through the strength of their new dignity and influence we can trace the spirit of independence which was beginning to rise in opposition to the unjust English rule; and it was here in 1754 that the first General Congress was held to discuss arrangements for the national defence, when Franklin and his compatriots "signed the first plan for American Union and proclaimed to the colonies that they were one people, fit to govern and able to protect themselves." Later, when the storm of the Revolution broke, this place, where the first threatenings were heard, was the most impoverished by the contest and the most persevering in the fight; but she came out triumphant, with a record well meriting the honors received in 1797, when she was made the capital of the Empire State. After peace was again established and the routine of business taken up, Albany became the centre of the entire trade of Western New York.

Fulton's steamboats began to run between Albany and New York as early as 1809, and this commercial activity and contact with the world gave an impulse to the city which has made itself felt all along the Hudson. Since then it has grown rapidly, and has in its steady advancement an influential future to which its citizens may look forward with pardonable pride.

My arrival in Albany and lecture at Tweddle Hall on the evening of the eighteenth were to me among the notable events of my journey. Colonel J. M. Finley, who accompanied me from Boston, a veteran of the late war and manager of my lecture course from Boston to Buffalo, introduced me.

Called at the Capitol on the nineteenth to see the adjutant-general in relation to my lecturing in the interest of the fund for the erection of a Soldiers' Home which at that time interested persons had proposed to build at Bath, New York. I was presented to General Townsend by Colonel Taylor, assistant adjutant-general, whom I had known for several years. Found that General Townsend was not, as I had been informed, the treasurer of the fund. Colonel Taylor then went with me up Washington avenue in search of Captain John Palmer, Past Department Commander, G. A. R., whom I was advised to consult on the subject.

These matters attended to, I went in pursuit of Captain William Blasie and Lieutenant Arthur Richardson – acquaintances of many years and both of whom had been the companions of my captivity in Southern prisons during the War of the Rebellion.

My stay in Albany was prolonged by preparation for lectures at Troy and Schenectady, and by needed information concerning the early history and development of the former city. The second Sunday of my journey found me here and I went in the morning to the Presbyterian Church at the corner of Hudson and Philip streets.

CHAPTER VI.

ALBANY TO SYRACUSE

Fourteenth Day

Given's Hotel,Schenectady, New York,May 22, 1876.

Left Albany at eleven o'clock. My journey to this city led me over the Schenectady Turnpike. Was compelled to ride between showers all day as a rainstorm had set in just as I was leaving Albany. Stopped for dinner at Peter Lansing's, whose farm is about midway between the two cities. This genial gentleman of old Knickerbocker stock greatly amused me with his blunt manner and dry jokes. I was sorry to leave the shelter of his hospitable roof, especially as the weather was exceedingly disagreeable, but my engagement to lecture in Schenectady obliged me to go on. I found it necessary to ride the last three miles at a gallop in order to avoid an approaching shower. Reached my hotel at four o'clock in the afternoon, and lectured in the evening at Union Hall under the auspices of Post 14, G. A. R. Several representatives of the city press were with me on the platform, and among them was Colonel S. G. Hamlin, a fellow-prisoner in "Libby" during the war, and now editor of the Union. In the morning Colonel Finley went over to Troy to assist Mr. Farrington, my advance agent, in arranging for my lecture in that city.

Fifteenth and Sixteenth Days

91 Centre Street,Schenectady, New York,May Twenty-third – Twenty-fourth.

Accepting an invitation to spend a day or two with friends, I went to 91 Centre street after my lecture. While here I was occupied chiefly in posting my journal and in attending to business and private correspondence. A telegram from Colonel Finley told me that he had fixed upon the next evening for my lecture at Harmony Hall, Troy. Acting upon this plan I went over to Troy the following afternoon by way of Albany. Called on Captain Palmer in the latter city, and handed him the proceeds of my lecture at Schenectady, which he at once transmitted to the fund in aid of the Soldiers' Home. While in Troy I met R. H. Ferguson, Hon. Martin I. Townsend, the McCoys and many other friends and acquaintances of Auld Lang Syne. I may add that this was the only instance in my journey thus far in which I had deviated from a direct line of march.

Seventeenth Day

91 Centre Street,Schenectady, New York,May Twenty-fifth.

Returned to Schenectady by way of Albany after my lecture at Troy. Was very busy at this time in organizing for my lecture campaign between Schenectady and Buffalo. There was rather a surprising announcement in the afternoon's Union to the effect that I had left for Little Falls. I did not learn from what source Comrade Hamlin of that paper received his information. Colonel Finley went on to Utica, where he was joined by Mr. Farrington.

During my stay here I became interested in the place and found that Schenectady was as rich in legends and story as her neighbors. She counts her birthday among the historic dates of America, having begun her career in 1620, when the Mohawks were still holding their councils of war and spreading the terror of their name. Here in their very haunts a band of courageous Dutchmen established a trading-post and began the work of civilization. This brave colony did not find life as peaceful as the innocent aspect of Nature would suggest, however, for in the winter of 1690 the French and Indians began their terrible work, burning the houses and massacreing the inhabitants. It was only through a baptism of blood that the small trading-post developed into a city. Now it was one of the most flourishing and important towns in the valley; and 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 yearsThat 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 roamThrough my loved haunts now mossy and gray;And dearer than all is my childhood's hallowed homeThat 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.