One would give much to have seen this cheerful "gentleman from Hudson" at that moment: He . . . dismounted, tied his horse behind our chair, and taking the bridle of our own began, to lead him on, groping his way as well as he was able, stepping into one mud hole after another, without regard to his silk stockings, sometimes up to his beauish knee buckles. At length one of the gentlemen declared that a sound which we had heard for some time at a distance could not be the howl of a wolf, but must be the barking of a wolf dog, and indicated that the habitation of his master was not very far off, proposing at the same time to go in search of

55S The Hudson River

it. . . . We found our way to a log house, containing but one room and destitute of everything except hospitable inhabitants . . . there was no lamp or candles, light being supplied by pine knots stuck in crevices in the walls. The conversation of the family proved that wild beasts were very numerous and bold in the surrounding forests and that they sometimes, when hungry, approached the house. . . . On reaching the springs at Saratoga we found but three habitations and those but poor log houses, on the high bank of the meadow, where is now the eastern side of the street on the ridge near the Round Rock. This was the only spring then visited. The log cabins were almost full of strangers, among whom were several ladies and gentlemen from Albany, and we found it almost impossible to obtain accommodations even for two nights. . . . The neighbourhood of the Spring, like all the country we had seen for many miles, was a perfect forest.