On board the Lady Clinton, up the North River, addressed to her cousin and correspondent in Boston.

DEAR Coz: , Writing, you know, in warm weather, is a most insufferable ‘bore;’ but as I promised to send you a journal of my tour to Saratoga, I shall do ma possible to collect my thoughts and sentiments from the desultory pencillings in my ‘porte feuille.’

August 2-th, 4 o’clock, P. M., thermometer 95, arrived on board the Lady Clinton, with brother George and his ‘bride,’ and CLARENCE, (you know) mon chevalier en attendance, dressed in my superb grey, made by Whitmarsh, with the cuffs embroidered, à  la Paris, to the elbows, Minerva ‘corsage,’ and collar up to my ears. ‘Tis elegant to travel in this costume , what is the difference between August and January? Ðœem. Quizzed a lady in a green Berrage dress, through my new Garcia opera glass, in my most expressive style , wonder people can be so vulgar as to be comfortable, when it is not the fashion!

Five o’clock. , Waiting for passengers. Promenaded the deck with Clarence to wave adio to a crowd of fashionables who were waiting on the slip to see us off. I protest it was quite affecting! , called for the ‘cologne,’ and felt renovated! By the way, the deck of this same Lady Clinton is a most divine lounge! Such a capital place for the display of a graceful figure!, the point of the toe , the twirl of the opera glass, , in short, all that elegant non chalance that distinguishes high life. Mem. ‘Ennui’d to death’ by the gaze of ‘les plebians.’

Half past five. , Glided majestically from the shore, with a very tolerable band of music, playing ‘wreaths for the chieftian.’ In reconnoitering my travelling conveniences, missed my beautiful petite livre, that I always take with me, pour passer le temps. Clarence, said I, how could you be so shocking! as to make me forget my ‘heavenly Byron? , you saw me lay it upon the piano, and knew I intended to take it with me. True, madam, replied he, and I have now the honоr of presenting it to you. And , would you think it? , out the wretch flourished a pocket edition of Johnson’s Dictionary! I was petrified to immovibility! , He, however, endeavored to apologize for his mistake, by saying there were several books on the piano, and he did not know which I needed most, , what a fool! Began to think Clary was stupid!

Six o’clock. , Called for my porte feuille, and commenced my ‘journal on board the Lady Clinton.’ Took an attitude à  la Sapho , raised my eyes with an air of graceful abstraction , and had an inspiration! Heard somebody whisper about contour, and classical outline , dare say it was some nobleman disguised as a travelling artist, in search of fine originals. Began to pencil my thoughts , ‘sighed and looked, and sighed again!’ Mon ami bent over my shoulder , gave him a most withering look, and , closed the page.

Nine o’clock. , Walked round, arm in arm, between Clarence and George, and surveyed the company. Plenty of natural and artificial curiosities, from every part of the globe! Mem. What a pity that they did not call the Lady Clinton Noah’s Ark! There was Madam Iturbide, and the ex-king, and the ex-queen, and ex-Murat, couchant, and the Russian Bear, and his cubs, rampant; and there were some little northern beauties, full of grace and dimples , but so American in their manners, it was really distressing! (Women should get rid of all nationalisms, as fast as possible.) There were whiskered Dons, Yankee Generals, and spruce citizens, all going to drink congress water, at the fountain head of fashion. There, also, was the man of marble memory , and all these were to be congregated, and placed down at one extensive board , and at the chiming of the tea bell, so they were. Oh! it was a withering sight to the ethereal sentimentalist, to see men and women devouring ham and eggs and pigs and poultry, as if their very lives were at stake, and cramming was the redemption. I inhaled a cup of hyson and went on deck.

Niпе o’clock. , A glorious evening! Moonlight and shadows. The palisadoes of the Hudson look like the castles and towers of enchantment , thought I saw a ghost, but believe it was only a sheep.

Twelve o’clock. , Time to retire , but where! To the ‘state room,’ to be packed up with a hundred and fifty women in double rows, (like mummies in an Egyptian pyramid) or accommodated with a settee. I chose a mattress with the privilege of the floor.

Oh! Babel, thy tower was a Paradise of silence, compared to this scanctorum of retirement.

Hour unkown. , Pressed my repeater, and found it was two o’clock. Fell asleep and dreamt I was in a hornet’s nest.

Nine o’clock, A. M , Glad it was morning! , heard the Hudson bells chiming for church , dressed and went below to breakfast , was introduced to a ‘bas bleu,’ and ‘ennui’d to death‘ with her learning! Asked me if I had ever heard of ‘the female character vindicated.’ Not often, said I, (supposing she might be the author,) and cut the subject. Hate blue stockings excessively! Our party went on deck in high spirits , laughed at Clarence for sentimentalizing upon the scenery , arrived at Albany in time to get a good dinner, with plenty of elbow room.

Four o’clock, P. M., Took stage for Saratoga, and arrived at Congress Hall late at night. All full – were accommodated with bed at a neighboring cottage, with the privilege of taking our meals at the ‘Hall!’

Dear Coz, when I have recovered from the fatigue of this communication, I shall send you a bird’s eye view of Congress Hall.

Eternally yours,

CELESTIA.

Quoted from: Katherine Augusta Ware: Bower of Taste. Boston, 1828.