My wife and I took the "Hudson River
Railroad" and came as far as Peekskill. We visited together the place of
her nativity, where she lived until she was twelve years old. She found
many very warm friends there among her relatives. We passed through
Peekskill hollow to visit some of her friends. There I saw some beautiful
land. It looked nice enough for western land, if it had not been for the
rugged scenery around it.
When the day came, that we were to meet mother at Albany, we took the
cars and started. When we passed Fishkill I knew the place well. I had
been there a number of times before, when I was a boy. Newburg, on the
opposite side of the river, appeared the most natural of any place I had
seen. Along the river it appeared beautiful, and the mountains grand. It
was the first time I had been there since we moved to Michigan. We soon
passed Poughkeepsie, the place where we took the night boat, so many
years before, bound for the territory of Michigan.
As we approached the Catskill mountains, I should say ten or fifteen
miles away, they looked like a dark cloud stretched across the horizon;
and when we came nearer and nearer the highest one, and it was in plain
sight, it appeared majestic and grand.
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