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First Impressions of the New World - On Two Travellers from the Old in the Autumn of 1858 by Isabella Strange Trotter
page 14 of 291 (04%)
The road to Garrison, where we had to cross the river, runs along the
left bank of the Hudson, a distance of fifty miles, close to the water's
edge nearly the whole way, and we were much struck by the magnificence
of the scenery. The river, generally from two to three miles in breadth,
winds between ranges of rocks and hills, mostly covered with wood, and
sometimes rising to a height of 800 feet. Owing to the windings and the
islands, the river frequently takes the appearance of a lake; while the
clearness of the atmosphere, and the colouring of the sunset, added to
the beauty of the scene. We travelled at the rate of twenty miles an
hour, and arrived in darkness at Garrison. Here we crossed the river in
a ferry-boat to West Point, and found William, who had come at the same
speed in the steamer. The hotel being full, we accepted the offer of
rooms made us by Mr. Osborn, an American friend of papa's, at a little
cottage close to the hotel. Mr. and Mrs. Osborn and their two children
had passed some weeks there, and said they frequently thus received
over-flowings from the hotel, and but for their hospitality on this
occasion, we should have been houseless for the night. This cottage
belonged to the landlord of the hotel, and there being no cooking
accommodation in it, we all took our meals in the public dining-room.
The hotel itself is a very spacious building, with a wide verandah at
each end. We found an endless variety of cakes spread for tea, which did
not exactly suit our appetites, but we made the best of it, and then
went into the public drawing-room, where we found all the guests of the
hotel assembled, and the room brilliantly lighted. Here balls, or as
they call them "hops," take place three or four times a week. The scene
is thoroughly foreign, more German than French. The ladies' hoops are
extravagant in circumference; the colouring of their dresses is violent
and heavy; and there is scarcely a man to be seen without moustachios, a
beard, a straw hat, and a cigar. West Point is the Sandhurst of the
United States, and is also the nearest summer rendezvous of the
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