ALBAI^Y TO SYRACUSE. 141 



" O fiweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides, 

 On its clear winding way to the sea; 

 And dearer than all storied streams on earth besides, 

 Is this bright rolling river to me. 



But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these, 



Who charms when others all fail, 

 Is blue-eyed, bounie, bonnie Eloise, 



The belle of the Mohawk vale. 



•*0 sweet are the scenes of my boyhood's sunny years 

 That bespangle the gay valley o'er; 

 And dear are the friends, seen through memory's fond tears, 

 That have lived in the blest days of yore. 



But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these, etc. 



**0 sweet are the moments when dreaming I roam 

 Through my loved haunts now mossy and gray ; 

 And dearer than all is my childhood's hallowed home 

 That is crumbling now slowly away. 



But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these, etc.** 



Reached tins place at seven o'clock in the evening 

 and will go on to Little Falls after dinner to-morrow. 

 In the morning I had an opportunity to look about me 

 and admire the unusually fine scenery whose romantic 

 aspect was heightened by a rugged tip of the Adiron- 

 dacks which runs down into the valley at that point. 

 At the foot of the mountain lies the brisk little town 

 of Saint Johnsville, whose manufacturing interests 

 have given it a reputation for miles around. 



(lEtucntietl) Daw. 



Girvan House, 



Little Falls, New York, 



May Twenty-eighth. 



Rode to this place from Saint Johnsville after five 

 o'clock in the afternoon, taking the north bank of the 

 river. The effect of the scene in front of me as I 



