The country was much more cultivated
than any we have yet seen. There were large fields of Indian corn, and
many of another kind, called broom corn, being grown only to make
brooms. We passed many fields of a brilliant orange-red pumpkin, which,
when cooked, looks something like mashed turnips, and is called squash:
it is very delicate and nice. But beautiful as the country was, even in
the rain, we soon found out that we had left New England and its
bright-looking wooden houses. The material of which the houses are built
remains the same; but instead of being painted, and looking trim and
neat as in New England, they consisted of the natural unpainted wood;
though twelve hours of pouring rain may have made them more
melancholy-looking than usual; for they were all of a dingy brown, and
had a look bordering on poverty and dilapidation in some instances, to
which we were quite unaccustomed.
On reaching this place we found the hotel was closed for the season; but
rooms had been secured in a very fair country inn, where we had a
tolerable dinner. We were glad to see the rain gradually cease; and the
promise of a fine afternoon caused us to sally out as soon after dinner
as we could to see the falls. These are very beautiful: they are formed
by a tributary of the Mohawk River, along the banks of which (of the
Mohawk itself I mean) our railway this morning passed for about forty
miles.
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