Morning pleasant but doubtful. The day was showery. Albany looked however much pleasanter than I expected, which is probably owing to the more favorably situated hotel at which I was stopping. It is however a dull place for a stranger. I walked round to see the changes which had taken place since I was here, but could not mark them well as I had observed very superficially the first time.1 There is every appearance of prosperity, and yet this depends upon but a very slender thread. The Navigation below this place is so difficult and so much obstructed as to make it really desirable that the depot for canal navigation should be established further down, say at or opposite Hudson, thirty miles below. Should it so happen that the public interest and private enterprise combined to set that way, Albany would find herself soon falling into the rear. At present however the mass of interest both private and public centred in this place gives to it a predominance.

Afterwards my Wife wished to make some purchases and I accompanied her. Then home where I sat down and wrote a letter to Mrs. Frothingham,2 giving a detail of our expedition from West Point. I filled it with matters of no great interest to her, but I could do nothing else, and my Wife was not willing to write.

At dinner we saw some of the noted Albany Regency. Mr. Flagg and Mr. Beardsley were at the house and the former was quite talkative and civil.3 There were also two sons of Mr. Van Buren at table, one a very modest youth, the other our old acquaintance, John, transformed into a man. I did not recognize him. We had no time for the desert, being called to go to the railway depot to be in time for the cars for Schenectady.

We started in company with Mr. White, going out of the limits of the City in a car drawn by horses, for which an engine was then substituted which took us with great rapidity to the end of our trip. Just 14before arriving, there is an inclined plane which we descended—A process of some little hazard and yet so often done as to appear of very little.4 Schenectady is a place not very remarkable for any thing. It lies very level and is distinguished for poor, ill looking houses. The bricks which they make along this whole region are very indifferent. After walking about it, I dawdled away a couple of hours waiting for the remainder of Mr. White’s party which was coming from Saratoga Springs. They came at last in the shape of Mr. and Mrs. Joy and her child, Miss Story and Miss White. Mrs. Paige and Mr. and Mrs. Edward Curtis of New York together with several young men made up the number.

The first poor house we have stopped at. There were great fires in all the parlors, and the remainder of the building was unusually exposed by the changes the man was making to enlarge his accommodations. Small bedroom and middling rest.

A cloudy day with showers. After breakfast we made our preparations for joining the canal boat. On the trip across the Sound Mr. White had intimated his disposition to take a line boat as it is called entirely to himself and offered to receive us as a part of the company. We now took possession of this boat, Mrs. Paige and two of the gentlemen turning back on their road to Boston. Our company then consisted of Mr. White, his two daughters, Caroline and Ellen, with her husband, Miss Story, Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, Mr. Cramer and ourselves. Ten in all for a boat intended to accommodate eighteen, and to carry freight in the main hold. Mr. White having none but trunks devoted 15this to the purpose of an eating room so as to save the annoyance of sleeping and eating in the same narrow quarters.1

Our route lay today in the fine Country called the valley of the Mohawk, a beautiful but shallow stream which flows along among the richest grounds I have seen. Yet the cultivation seems very indifferent and the houses would be deemed a disgrace in our barren country. The rule of prosperity on this earth seems to be in an inverse ratio to the natural gifts of a Country, perhaps to show more conclusively how important industry is and how much necessity becomes a virtue.

Our progress was slow but pretty steady until towards evening when we became entangled in a crowd of boats which had got squeezed together in consequence of a delay made by a breach near Utica. We had a fine opportunity to observe the rough nature of the boatmen, and their very coarse conduct to one another. Just by Schoharie Creek, a lake boat as it is called, laden with timber had got aground, and another unwilling to pass it for fear of a similar disaster had got into the guard lock and refused to get out for any one. This was a kind of dog in the manger policy which was calculated to try all our tempers. At last an officer of the Canal who had been sent for came and started him. We passed along by, I should think one hundred and fifty boats which were destined to wait a day or more at this place. Such is the traffic on this great artificial avenue.2

We followed our course pretty well until we came up with and were detained by the fleet of boats going up. Here Mr. Edward Curtis and I got out at a Lock and we passed an hour or two conversing upon politics. I find he is the Whig President of the board of assistant Aldermen in New York, and a great friend of Mr. Webster. We exchanged our opinions very freely and without offence, and then returned to the boat to bed.