AMORE delightful way of obtaining a knowledge of the manners, productions, scenery, and character of a country, cannot be conceived, than by a perusal of the travels of intelligent and accomplished men; and perhaps no species of composition is better adapted to develope the qualities of a writer's mind, than his descriptions of the various scenes through which he passes, with the sentiments and feelings which they inspire, and his selection of topics for discussion. These men generally view things through the medium of a taste, modified by culture, and the practice of some particular pursuit. The merchant, the lawyer, the divine, the agriculturist, the poet, and the voluptuary, will see the same objects in a different point of view, and impart a shade to their accounts, which exists only in their own imaginations. This circumstance lends an air of novelty and originality to productions of this na ture, and however highly coloured VOL. IV.-No. vi.

51

they may be, by the individual, they

seldom mislead the enlightened and discriminating. Almost every part of the old world has been repeatedly described by tourists, whose desire of improvement, or love of pleasure, has led them to explore its treasures; but somehow or other, the number of those who have favoured the public with an account of their travels on our own continent, is very small; unless, indeed, we include such as, under that name, have written libels on our country, for the purpose of preventing emigrations from Europe. Strange as it may appear to the European, yet, to our shame be it said, it is too true, that the American literati are generally much better acquainted with the pyramids of Egypt, the great wall of China, the mouldering temples and relics of antiquity, and with the history of past ages,-than with the surface, institutions, capabilities, and delightful scenery of their own coun try. But nothing is more common

than for men to overlook advantages within their own reach, and sigh after those which owe their charms to distance-which, by enveloping objects in the shade of obscurity, inflames the imagination, and makes us fancy perfections that have no existence. That the writer, who endeavours to make us better acquainted with our own country, and by making us acquainted with it, makes us love it more, lays his fellow citizens under an obligation, all will readily admit; especially when, as in the present case, its intrinsic advantages render it worthy of that attachment, which is generally felt from the mere circumstance of its being ours. Mr. Darby, in his tour, has materially added to the stock of our information upon the most important topics connected with this state; and it is well he has, for otherwise we should be disposed to be severe upon him for the almost total deficiency of personal incident throughout the volume before us. After reading it through, we know little more of our author, than that he is a very intelligent man, a good geologist, and an excellent geographer. He never admits us sociably and freely to the various interesting interviews with agreeable people, which a traveller enjoys, who rambles in a paradise of sweets, and has nothing to think of but to please and be pleased. We never are permitted to take our seat with him in the stage, and enjoy that variety of character and conversation which is so interesting to the philosopher and humorist. His letters are as formal and studied, as if he wrote to an inquisitor, or counsellor of state. He seems to have thought that his friend was so cold blooded, as not to sympathize with him in the feelings incident to one, who at every step, must meet with some scene or person to interest him; and that if he informed the head, it was unnecessary to captivate the heart. In this Mr.

Darby is mistaken. In the present age, it is not enough that a tourist merely write good sense, and favour us with valuable information; he must do something more. He must adorn his subject with the graces and embellishments of style;-variegate it with incident and anecdote, to prevent monotony; and examine the nature of the human heart, that he may be able to select topics that cannot fail to interest. He that executes a work without touching the springs of human action, may meet with cold approbation, but never will be read with delight. We regret that Mr. Darby has fallen into this error, as we are induced, from the ease and fluency of the style, to think that it was more owing to a mistaken idea, that his private adventures would be uninteresting to the public, than to any want of capacity. As it is, however, he views almost every object with the eye of a geographer and geologist; occasionally making reflections upon our internal national policy, which are worthy of the serious attention of an enlightened community, and reflect honour upon the intellect and patriotism of our author. Such reflections are the more valuable, as he is evidently in every thing relative to the face of the country, a practical man and not a visionary theorist. As a travelling companion, Mr. Darby's volume must be considered of great utility, for he carefully notes down the various stages on the road, their relative distances, and the names of the houses of entertainment. In perusing the volume before us, the reader is much embarrassed by the frequent occurrence of voluminous notes, which might as well have been worked up in the text, as they are upon similar topics. Many of these, together with copious extracts from Mr. Bouchette, a Canadian writer, in the addenda, our author has given in the present form, probably because

sessess.

We shall for the present, in order to furnish the reader with specimens of our author, refrain from making any more critical remarks, lest we might be considered as too much disposed to find fault.

We shall commence with his remarks upon the Hudson and its scenery; a river whose bright waves and magnificent shores, have often excited sentiments and emotions that would give grace and inspiration to poetry, and which only require the aid of genius, to exhibit more than the charms of eastern romance.

"It may indeed be considered as peculiar to the Hudson scenery, that almost all the variety that the face of the earth can afford, is often condensed into a compass of very limited extent. Environed by cliffs, crowned with dwarf oak, pine and cedar, the traveller often finds a projecting bank, sometimes rising bold, rude, and rocky; at others, swelling above the wave in rounded prominences. Upon such banks are built many of the finest country seats in the United States; and if a variegated country can give gratification to refined taste, there are few places on earth where summer can be enjoyed with more delight. In passing the Hudson, it is in the highest degree pleasing, to view those edifices amid so many natural contrasts. From the city of New-York this elegant variety greets the voyager; above the Highlands it becomes more frequent and striking, and in no extent of the Hudson river, does, its peculiar traits arrest attention with

more force,, than near the town of Hudson. The second day after my arrival in the neighbourhood, I traversed the road from Hudson to Columbiaville, near the mouth of Kinderhook. The

road follows the dividing ridge between

the eastern branch of Kinderhook creek and the Hudson river, and in many places, commands very extensive views of the surrounding country.

"At one glance is often seen the majestic Hudson, its ever varied banks, the the farm houses, and above, and beyond fleeting sail, apparently mingling with this soft picture of peaceful industry, rise the blue ridges of the distant mountains.

son;

"Near the mouth of Kinderhook, commences a very striking change in the physiognomy of the banks of the Hudbottoms are now more extensive than the hills are less abrupt, and the farther south. The soil presents no very striking difference from that found in the interval between this place and the Highlands; but the general aspect of the country assumes a new character. Though still broken, the face of the country on the banks is inore uniform than the surface of either Dutchess, Orange, or Greene counties.

"Kinderhook Creek is formed from two branches, the Claverack, and the Kinderkook properly so called. The former rises in the township of Hillsdale, in Columbia county, and running first east, gradually turns south and southwest, and approaching within three or four miles of the river, finally assumes a northern course, forming, in all its course, a semi-ellipse of about thirty miles in length. Kinderhook rises in the township of Berlin, in Rensselaer county, and pursuing a course south or southeast, in very nearly an opposite direction, joins the Claverack about one mile and a half from the Hudson; the united stream unites with that river, after being precipitated over considerable ledges of transition slate. The curious structure of this country appears from the cir cumstance, that the Jansens, or Ancram creek, rising also in Hillsdale, winds round the Claverack, at seven or eight miles distance from the latter stream. The courses of, indeed, nearly all the water-courses in this neighbourhood, have a correspondence, approaching the regularity of art; their position must have been determined by some general

cause, some operation of nature, common to a considerable extent of country. It preserves, however, so much of the general character of the Hudson banks, as to present a more broken surface near, than at a distance from the river.

"Where the road from Hudson to Albany crosses Kinderhook creek, a fine wooden bridge was erected a few years past. Within a few paces below the bridge, on the south side of the creek, the Messrs. Jenkins of Hudson, have a fine merchant-mill, and directly opposite the mill, stands a large cotton factory. During the last war a little village, rose around this factory,inhabited by weavers, spinners and other workmen. It is now languishing like other similar establishments, and from like causes

"The creek rolls over different ledges of rock, under and above the bridge, which produces the fall of water necessary to propel the machinery below. The tide flows up to the mill and factory. The adjacent country is hilly, particularly south of the creek. The works lie so low that the traveller is within a few paces before he can perceive the position; and when viewing them from the south bank, cannot but be pleased with the rural features of the place. From the eminence above the mill, can be seen the fine farm and seat of Mr. Robert Livingston, upon the point of land between the mouth of Kinderhook creek and Hudson river, the opposite shores rising gently from the water, retiring far into the distant landscape, in the township of Coxackie. Turning the view a little more to the south, rise the highest peaks of the Catskill mountains, in the township of Windham.

"The south side of the little bay,made by Kinderhook creek, is steep, and in many places precipitous, clothed with timber and underwood; its scenery is romantic and solitary: I had the good fortune to be kindly and hospitably treated by Mr Marks Barker and his family, who reside near this seductive spot. In company with those innocent and friendly people, and the sweet companion of my life and of this journey, I traversed those wilds. Within a few paces of the cultivated farm, or busy mill,' we might have imagined ourselves transported to the abodes of primeval silence; we could have conceived our selves carried back to the primitive ages,

when cultivation had neither disfigured nor adorned the face of the earth. Many of the dells, dark and deep, overshaded with oaks, pine, cedar and maple, seemed to have never before been visited by human beings; the turn of a step dispelled this illusion, by disclosing the gay aspect of the garden, orchard, field and meadow. I had before ranged over many of the most uncultivated and unvisited parts of this continent. I had often seen the rapid change, from the savage waste to the highly decorated abode of civilized man, but I do not remember to have been, ever before, so strongly impressed with the contrast. The scenes were before me in all their majesty. The whole contour, shading, and parts, of one of the most finely blended pictures in nature, was open to view. It was a day I can only forget when I cease to exist. It was enjoyed amid objects that now retain in my mind all their force of recollected interest. And it is a spot that the traveller may again and again revisit, and never cease to admire."

The following description of the Little Falls of the Mohawk, is so vivid and picturesque, that we think it will excite a desire, in those who are fond of the beautiful and sublime, to visit them.

"This cataract is caused by a chain of granitic mountains of no great elevation, which crosses the Mohawk at this place. The chain is a ramification, or perhaps a continuation of the Catsbergs. Approaching the pass, I was struck with its great resemblance to the passage of the Juniata, through the Warrior mountain below Bedford, in Pennsylvania, except that the scenery of the latter is on a larger scale, and the mountains covered with a less vigorous growth of trees, than those which occasion the Little Falls in the Mohawk. In both, the rivers at the distance below, of half a mile, seem to issue from the base of the mountains, which seen obliquely, conceals the narrow glens through which the waters work their toilsome way.

"The scenery near the Little Falls is wild and striking. As you approach this place, the valley of the river seems to close, the road approaches the pass obliquely, winding along the foot, of hills covered with enormous sugar-ma