We left Burlington yesterday. Many of my new friends accompanied us by steamer across the lake, and our polite host, the ex-president and his only daughter—a dearly beloved, but physically delicate, young girl—came on hither, where they will remain a couple of days with us. The picture of that romantic lake and the colossal reposing granite lion, which in the setting sunlight seemed to increase in size, whilst it receded still farther and farther into the dim distance, is one which I shall ever retain in my mind among the most beautiful natural scenes of America. We reached Saratoga, in the western portion of New York, in the evening, and made that same evening our appearance in the public saloon.
Several couples, ladies and gentlemen, were promenading round and round in the middle of the room beneath the brilliant chandeliers. One couple in particular attracted our attention. It was a very handsome young girl with very beautiful and quite bare shoulders, and a young man, elegant and handsome also. They were, it was said, the lovers of the present season. Among the elderly company was one handsome old lady, who was said to be very like Mrs. Martha Washington, and who was dressed in the same old-fashioned style, which was so very becoming to her that she looked in this costume both original and extremely well. I, who am very fond of a little costume, and who would like that every person should dress themselves according to their individuality, whether of figure or fancy, was greatly amused by the assembly, and as I chanced to meet there many new and old acquaintance, I was not only amused, but soon tired and obliged to leave.
This evening, however, there is to be the great ball of the season, to which I am invited, and whither I shall go to see all that is to be seen. This season is said not to be very brilliant, owing to the coldness and wetness of the weather. It rains now.
