description of our journey and of the lakes that I
promised to send you. No, my Julia, I have not
forgotten the promise, nor you; but the thought of
enjoying such happiness without your dear
company, has been too painful to dwell upon. Of
this you may judge for yourself. Our first journey
was made in the steam-boat to Albany; she is a
moving world. The vessel ploughs through the
billowy waters in onward progress, and the soul is
left in silent harmony to enjoy the change. The
passage of the Highlands is most delightful. Figure
to yourself, my Julia, the rushing waters, lessening
from their expanded width to the degeneracy of the
stagnant pool--rocks rise on rocks in overhanging
mountains, until the weary eye, refusing its natural
office, yields to the fancy what its feeble powers
can never conquer. Clouds impend over their
summits, and the thoughts pierce the vast abyss.
Ah! Julia, these are moments of awful romance;
how the soul longs for the consolations of
friendship. Albany is one of the most picturesque
places in the world; situated most delightfully on
the banks of the Hudson, which here meanders in
sylvan beauty through meadows of ever-green and
desert islands. Words are wanting to paint the
melancholy beauties of the ride to Schenectady,
through gloomy forests, where the silvery pine
waves in solemn grandeur to the sighings of Eolus,
while Boreas threatens in vain their firm-rooted
trunks. But the lakes! Ah! Julia--the lakes! The