Print (PDF) - On this page / på denna sida - Newburgh, on the Hudson, October 7
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smoking and spitting gentlemen. We floated proudly and
softly on the broad, magnificent Hudson. It was a pity
that the day was rainy, because the voyage, excepting
for this, was one of the most beautiful which any
one can imagine, especially when, after a few hours’
time, we reached what are called the Highlands. The
shores with their bold, wood-covered heights reminded
me continually of the shores of the Dala and Ångerman
rivers, in fact, seemed to me to belong to the same
natural conformation, excepting that it was broader
and on a larger scale; and the dark clouds which
hung like heavy draperies over the river between
the hills were in perfect harmony with the gloomily
beautiful passes through which we swung, and which
presented at every turn new and more magnificent
pictures. The river was full of life. Three-decked
steamers, gleaming, like our own, with gold and white,
passed up and down the river. Other steam-boats were
pulling along with them flotillas of from twenty to
thirty boats, laden with goods from the country for
New York, or vice versa, while hundreds of smaller
and larger craft were seen skimming along past
the precipitous shores like white doves with red,
fluttering neck-ribbons. On the shores glistened
white country-houses and small farms. I observed a
great variety in the style of building: many of
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