Memoirs of Anne C.L. Botta,: written by her friends. With selections from her correspondence and from her writings in prose and poetry.

Sctecttons from ler Irtttnoo
though we were afterward convinced that it was of no value to
him, and that we had' been grossly imposed upon at the office
in New-York; in short, we were actually embarked, and advancing toward Niagara at the enormous velocity of three miles
an hour. I was amused to observe Ma looking cautiously around
for a seat, and taking her handkerchief to dust before occupying it, while I immediately doffed my civilized costume,
exchanging my Middleton gaiters for a pair of " seven-league
boots" bought for the occasion, and my traveling-dress for a
morning-gown passe. Thus adapted to my circumstances, I felt
equal to any emergency, and looked, as Mr. Cushman said, " the
genius of the place." At the close of the first day we had accomplished twelve miles on foot, coming on board the boat at
frequent intervals to rest; and at night we were prepared to
enjoy a profound repose, " cabined, cribbed, as we were."
A day on board a canal-boat may be described, but language
is wholly inadequate to convey any idea of a night; it is one
of those passages in life that must be experienced to be understood. I will only say, therefore, that after our vigorous exercise we slept even there as soundly as the seven sleepers, though
our slumbers were less protracted, as we usually rose as the
first streak of dawn appeared; and after a walk of five or six
miles, returned to the boat in time for breakfast, with appetites
that would have given great uneasiness to the captain had not
our meals, luckily for him, been an extra charge. The scenery
through which the canal passed was in general tame and uninteresting, but there were passages of exquisite beauty; and in the
alchemy of sunset, the gray light and the repose of early morning, or seen beneath the veil of silver moonlight, the commonest
woods and hills were picturesque and beautiful. The scenery
near the village of Little Falls, in the valley of the Mohawk,
abounds in bold and striking features, and was more romantic than
any through which we passed. But wherever there is the expanse of sky above and of field and wood below, though they
may not be disposed with reference to pictorial effect, yet the
true lover of nature will find there beauty and companionship.
Communion with Nature, even in her most unattractive form,
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