steamer “Diamond” left New York for Albany. I stood on her deck inhaling with delight the pure balsamic air, viewing with enchanted eyes the glorious scenery.
My costume seemed probably rather eccentric to some of the stiff Americans, who kept staring with curiosity at the foreigner who was leaning on his gun, and thinking little about them, lost in admiration of the wonderfully beautiful landscape that extends along the shores of the Hudson. Though my costume was nothing extraordinary, yet the tight leather trousers, high waterproof boots, short green shooting jacket, green cap, and open shirt collar, might have appeared so to them. The beautiful double-barrelled gun attracted many eyes, as well as the double-edged hunting-knife that hung on the left side. The German game bag, the powder-horn, shot belt—all, in short, was different to their fashion.
The night was cold and damp, and as on the following morning the sun broke through the thick clouds, his rays were reflected from the steeples of Albany; a pretty little town, and though I stayed too short a time to be able to judge, I believe it is likely to become a handsome city. I left that morning by the train for Utica. It was the first time that I had travelled by a railroad, and cutting the air with the speed of an arrow made an indescribably agreeable impression on me. A drunken man next to me told me long stories, in the still strange English, with a comically mournful expression of countenance, and afforded me much amusement. We arrived at Utica during the night. In the street I found some men with a carriage, and inquired of them when the canal boat left; they pointed to the carriage, one of them taking me by the arm; but I, remembering former warnings, set my foot against the door, and asked about the fare: “Nothing to pay, nothing to pay,” said they, and at one step I was seated in the carriage, which soon stopped before a very grand house. I did not feel quite comfortable under all this hospitality, for every light in the large building seemed to call out to me, “Money is the principal thing, therefore get money,” which sentence I recollect having to translate at Dr. Flügel’s, at Leipzig. I walked in, however, and inquired for the first boat going to Buffalo; meantime be it said, my misgiving was not altogether unwarranted, for I had to pay fifty cents, about 2s. 2d., for a cup of tea with bread and butter. The price of the boat was six dollars, table included, which seemed too dear, and a German Jew who was present took my part and made an agreement for me for four dollars. It was very cold when I went on board the canal boat a short time before its departure, and I found the warm cabin very agreeable.
The morning broke dull and rainy, and the breakfast-bell roused us too soon from our beds. An American breakfast is something astonishing to a newly arrived German. He beholds in surprise coffee, pork, pickled gherkins, potatoes, turnips, eggs, bread, butter, and cheese, all on the table at once; but as soon as the stomach has become accustomed to this strange assemblage, I must honestly acknowledge that it suits a hungry Christian man much better than dry bread and weak coffee.
After breakfast I had plenty of time to notice the company with whom I shared the narrow space of a cabin in a canal boat. There were ten gentlemen and three ladies; these latter had a cabin to themselves, separated from the other by a red curtain; over the entrance was the inscription, “Ladies’ Cabin,” with the friendly reminder of “No Admittance.” The ladies consisted of two old, and one not young. One young man, certainly the greatest lout I met with in America, deeply buried in a coat of his father’s, whose skirts nearly swept the ground, almost hiding his too scanty trowsers, and a hat so large that he was obliged to keep shoving it up from his face, played the gallant to them. These canal boats are very long and narrow, decked over, and rising about six feet above the water; ours was fitted up for the comfort, or rather discomfort of the passengers. They are well provided with windows, hold a number of people, and go very slowly; ours in particular, drawn by two very quiet horses, seemed to traverse the landscape at a snail’s pace. The canal is crossed by numerous low bridges, often only a few inches above the deck, and one must be constantly on the look-out not to be swept overboard, a disaster I once happened to witness. Sometimes it is necessary to lie quite flat, a precaution which also has its dangers, and on one occasion caused a dreadful misfortune, when a passenger, by a boat that had very little cargo, was horribly crushed to death between the boat and the bridge.
On a sudden we stopped with a tremendous crash. Everybody jumped up to see what had happened; our boat was jammed with another in a narrow part of the canal, directly under a bridge; and as ours was the stoutest, she had broken some of the other’s ribs. We remained as immovably fixed as if we had been built in; all attempts to drag the boat backwards were in vain, because the horses, knee deep in mud, would not pull together. At last, in a fit of compassion, and trusting to my waterproof boots, I jumped out, seized the large whip, and giving the horses a few sharp cuts, I made them understand that they could if they would. And they did, but in doing so one of them lashed out behind, in the thickest of the red mud, so that I was splashed all over with it, and looked more like a trout than a human being. I crept back, resolving next time not to be quite so obliging.
At length the captain came round for the fare; I quietly handed out my four dollars, and was not a little astounded to learn that an agreement made with a stranger at Utica was not binding on the captain, and that I must pay my six dollars like the rest—a bit of experience not too dear at two dollars.
So far we had been very comfortable, having had plenty of room; but now we took in fifteen more passengers, all for Buffalo. While daylight lasted all went on well enough, but in the evening I really could not divine where all the people would be stowed; yet with the live cargo of the Bremen lighter fresh in my memory, I considered nothing impossible. The sleeping-places in the canal boats consist of long four-cornered frames, which in the evening are hung up along the cabin; and now that the number of passengers had so much increased, we had to be packed in layers. The frames are covered with coarse strong canvas, on which a small mattress was laid; at least all the passengers who came from Utica had that accommodation, but now, on account of the number of new arrivals, that luxury had to be dispensed with. I scrambled into my swinging bed, having first examined the fastenings, leaving the lately-arrived passengers playing at cards.
I awoke in the night with a dreadful feeling of suffocation; cold perspiration stood on my forehead, and I could hardly draw my breath; there was a weight like lead on my stomach and chest. I attempted to cry out—in vain; I lay almost without consciousness. At last I became quite awake, and remembered where I was, and in what circumstances I was placed. The weight remained immovable; above me was a noise like distant thunder: it was my companion of the upper story, who lay snoring over my head; and that the weight which pressed on my chest was caused by his body no longer remained a doubtful point. I endeavored to move the Colossus—impossible. I tried to push, to cry out—in vain. He lay like a rock on my chest, and seemed to have no more feeling. As all my attempts to awaken him were ineffectual, I bethought me of my breastpin, which luckily I had not taken out of my cravat the night before; with great difficulty I succeeded in moving my arm and reaching the pin, which I pressed with a firm hand into the mass above me. There was a sudden movement, which procured me momentary relief; but the movement soon subsided, the weight was growing heavier and more insupportable, and to prevent being utterly crushed, I was obliged to reapply the pin. “What’s that?” “Murder!” “Help!” cried a deep bass voice above me. Feeling myself free, I slipped like an eel from under the weight, and saw, by the dim light reflected from a lamp hanging under the deck, a sight of no common occurrence. A stout heavy man, who slept in the upper frame without a mattress, was too much for the well-worn canvas; during his sleep it had given way under the weightiest part of his form, which descended till it found support on my chest. The thrust of my breastpin had caused him to make an effort to move, which gave me that opportunity of making my escape I so gladly seized. As he returned to his former position with greater force and weight, from the exertions he had made, the support being gone, the canvas split still wider, and, more than half asleep, he was sitting on my bed, while his head and feet remained in his own. He soon began to call out, “Help!” “Murder!” Everybody started up to see what was the matter, and to laugh heartily at the extraordinary attitude of this stout gentleman.
In the morning we arrived at Lockport, where the canal has a fall of sixty feet, with two sets of locks, one for boats ascending, and the other for those descending: a noble work for so young a country. Here I left the boat for the purpose of seeing the Falls of Niagara, towards which I took the