An Institution That Is a Model — Mrs. Murdock's Record In Government Service — The Life Saver Who Wears No "Hero" Medals and Refuses to Talk of Himself.
           
A short time ago a brief item in The Freeman announced the resignation of Mrs. Murdock as keeper of the Rondout light house and the appointment of her son to position. At the time of her resignation Mrs. Murdock enjoyed the distinction of being, with one exception, the oldest light house keeper in the service of the government, and in terms of continuous service, the oldest employee of the light house board. One other keeper is older than Mrs. Murdock, but none has served the government so long. In accepting her resignation the light house board wrote to Mrs. Murdock a letter congratulating her on her continuous service of more than 50 years and expressing its satisfaction with her faithfulness during that long period.  By reason of her long and excellent service Mrs. Murdock had before attracted the attention of the light house board and received letters of commendation which are highly prized.  In 1906 she was commended for the excellent order in which the light house was found and verbal commendations from inspectors have been frequent and warm.  Mrs. Murdock resigned August 28, 1907, and her resignation was accepted September 12.

Mrs. Murdock was appointed keeper of the Rondout light in 1856, when Franklin Pierce was president, and has, therefore held office continuously for more than 51 years, under the administrations of twelve of the 21 presidents that the country has had in its entire history.  Changes of administration have sometimes brought temporary anxiety and trouble, as some worthy patriot who yearned to serve his country as a lighthouse keeper would apply for the position, but in every case the government has declined to make a change.  To be in one spot for 51 years -- the "one spot" being so literally exact as in the case of the keeper of the Rondout light whose entire domain is an artificial island so small that one need not be much of an athlete to jump across it -- would seem to most persons a cheerless way of spending half a century, but it has left no indication of despondency or loneliness with Mrs. Murdock and her family.  A Freeman reporter who called at the light house a few days ago found it one of the neatest and most cheerful homes he had ever entered.
           
Mrs. Murdock, who is always described by reporters who visit the light house as "motherly," probably because that word so exactly describes her appearance and manner, bears her 79 years lightly, keeps up with the world's progress by reading The Freeman every evening and is perfectly content and happy in her home.
           
"Lonely? No, indeed." was her reply to a question.  "With all the boats going by and the view over the water why should anyone be lonely here?  But when I am away for a few days I am always ready to come back, for no other place seems like home."
           
Mrs. Murdock, who before her marriage was Miss Catherine A. Parcell, is a native of the town of Esopus and has spent nearly all of her life in that town, the Rondout light house being within the boundaries of Esopus and not in the city of Kingston as is generally supposed. Mrs. Murdock spent her early days at Ulster Park, residing in the house adjoining the school house.  She was married to George W. Murdock, a native of Stone Ridge, who was for a time keeper of the lower light house.  Later he was for a year and a half a guard at Sing Sing prison before being appointed keeper of the Rondout light house.  Within a year of his appointment he was drowned at Ponckhockie while on his way to the light house.  Mrs. Murdock was appointed to succeed him.  For a time, until her children grew up, she was obliged to employ a boy to row the boat, but for many years none outside of the family have shared in the duties of the position.
           
Until 1867 the light house was an old frame building. There were no dykes and boats could land directly at the light house pier. The present stone building was erected in 1867.  It is a comfortable eight-room residence, surmounted by the lantern.  With the building of the dyke came the necessity of lighting the dyke lights, three in number. Many times, Mrs. Murdock says, it has taken her son nearly the whole forenoon to get to the dyke lights to extinguish them when the creek was full of floating ice and he would have to alternately walk on the ice, dragging his boat, and row across the places where the ice was not strong enough to hold him. Often he would return with icicles hanging to his clothing and completely exhausted by the struggle. For a fortnight at a time it has been impossible to reach the shore.
           
With the growth of systematic ways of doing government business has come added work in the way of bookkeeping.  Records are now kept of the weather, the amount of oil burned each night, and the amount of wick burned.  Reports have been sent back because of a discrepancy of a gill in the account of the oil burned.  "It isn't such an easy job as folks think," says Mrs. Murdock, "and everything has to be in order all the time, for you never know when an inspector is coming.  He inspects not only the light, but the whole house, and everything must be in order."
           
That everything has been in order is proved by the long term of Mrs. Murdock's service and the complimentary letters she has received. Certainly no inspector could criticize the house as The Freeman reporter found it.  Aside from its interest as a light house, it has been made a museum of curiosities and mementoes by the family. Probably the most complete collection of pictures of Hudson river craft in existence has been gathered by the present keeper, Mrs. Murdock's son.  It covers Hudson river steamers from Fulton's first crude boat to the magnificent Hendrick Hudson. Another feature is Mr. Murdock's collection of table glasses from the various river boats, it has been added to from time to time.  Mr. Murdock's hobby is known to the river men, and as a result whenever a Hudson river man goes abroad or visits any remote place, he brings away with him a souvenir glass for "Jimmie" Murdock.  Each is labeled and placed in the collection. 
           
Life at the light house has not been without excitement. In the great freshet, when the Eddyville guard lock was washed away, it seemed for hours as though the building must be swept from its foundation. Again, a few years ago, when all of the boats in the creek were swept out by the ice and flood, it was feared that some of them would crash into the house, but it was not touched. At another time, when only one barge broke loose, it struck the light house dock. [editor's note: December 10, 1878 flood]
           
When the Charley Ross excitement was at its height, [1874] Mrs. Murdock's son-in-law bought a boat for her of a man who said he was from Albany.  She did not have the money to pay for it, and did not care to pay cash, as she feared it had been stolen.  The man, who was in the boat anchored along the flats, collected all but $5, and then went away.  Later detectives came, questioned and searched.  It developed that the man with the boat was Mosher, one of the captors of Charlie Ross.  Mrs. Murdock still chuckles over the notion the detective had that she wanted anyone else's children.  "I had enough of my own to take care of," she says, "and I told them so, too." Mosher never came back to collect his $5, and Mrs. Murdock says the detectives told her they believed she was the only person in the world who ever got ahead of Mosher in a business deal.
           
Another feature of life at the light house is the number of persons that have been saved from drowning by the keeper's family.  With the introduction of small motor boats, often sailed by people unfamiliar with the river, accidents have multiplied.  As many as three motor boats have run on the dyke in one week, often at night.  Sometimes the people realize their danger.  Often they do not.  Usually they feel humiliated by their experience, and say nothing about it.
           
Of this interesting feature of life at the light house the reporter sought information from James Murdock, the present keeper, but sought it vain.  The most definite statement he could get was, "Yes, I've pulled quite a lot of them out of the water, but let that go.  I'm not the one that ought to talk about it."  Pursuing the search for information further, the reporter asked a few questions of Mr. Murdock's mother and wife, while the keeper was absent, lighting the dock lights.
           
"I've often told Jimmie that he ought to be written up," said his mother, "but he always says 'Let others do the talking,' and there it ends. The reporters that come here always write about me, and never say anything about him. Once in a while there is a little item in the papers about some life he has saved and I have kept a lot of clippings, but half of the stories do not get printed at all because he never says a word to anybody.  No, I can't begin to tell you how many lives that boy has saved — I can't even give you a guess and he never kept track of it.  And then the risks he takes to oblige people. Why, not long ago he rowed four people over the river in an awful gale at night so they could get to Poughkeepsie by automobile."
           
"Why, I remember when the Glenerie sank," said the younger Mrs. Murdock, "he went out and saved a woman and that man they call Uncle Sam.  Often on dark nights we hear calls for help and he will row out and get people off the dyke, where they have run their motor boats.  In the ten years that I have lived here he has saved half a dozen from drowning, not counting those he has saved from spending a night on the dyke.  Has he ever had a medal?  Well I tell him he ought to have one, more than one, too, but he won't listen to it or do a thing — just says 'let the others do the talking.'"
           
"Oh, I don't know, I never kept a record, and anyway nobody would let a poor fellow drown," was the answer the reporter got from Mr. Murdock to a final appeal for some facts about his career as a life saver.  Then he started in to tell how the ferryboat saved a party stranded on the dyke from spending the night there and brought out a picture of the steamer City of Kingston in Seattle and insisted on changing the subject to anything but life saving.
           
The light house family now consists of representatives of three generations — Mrs. Murdock, the former keeper; her son James, the present keeper, who was born in the light house [editor's note: James, Sr. was born in the 1837 wooden lighthouse]; Mrs. James Murdock, who resided in a city before her marriage, but thinks the light house the finest spot on earth to live, and their son James Jr., born in the light house [editor's note: James Jr. was born in the 1867 bluestone lighthouse].

Editor's Note: This series of blog posts recounts the dramatic story of the Esopus Indian Nation’s Revolutionary War exodus. The original inhabitants of Ulster County, the Esopus Indians successfully maintained their sovereignty and traditional way of life in the face of overwhelming odds for over a century. These blog posts are summaries of a much fuller story that will be published in 2027.

Part 5. Refugees: 1779

Raids by Rebel ranging companies and Continental Army soldiers over the course of 1778 turned the Esopus Indians and their neighbors into refugees. In late December of 1778, with their towns destroyed, Loyalist Mohawks, Oneidas, Tuscaroras, and Mohicans of Onaquaga moved to the British outpost of Fort Niagara for safety.[1] Censuses taken by the British Indian Department at Fort Niagara over the winter of 1779 note that the Esopus Indians had also temporarily moved to Fort Niagara, where their leaders were present at councils. With the arrival of springtime, they dispersed to the Genesee Valley, where they were given land to plant corn by the Senecas near Gandagaro.[2] Their preemptive move to Seneca Country – close to the British Indian Department and forces at Fort Niagara, but far from Rebel strongholds on the East Coast – was badly timed, for in the winter and spring of 1779, George Washington was helping to plan an expedition for later that year that would destroy virtually every town in Indian Country.

In the meantime, Esopus men began to trek back to their Ulster County homeland in warparties. These were not simply retaliatory attacks: records from the British Indian Department reveal that the Esopus Indians acted in special operations and intentionally sought to capture high-ranking Rebel officials for information and for ransom. They also acted as spies and were paid for bringing back information.[3] However, these expeditions often incorporated traditional raiding tactics, especially when warriors were able to inflict retribution on individuals who had abused them in the past. On May 4th, they led a violent raid at Fantinekill, burning several houses and killing six.[4] Two weeks later, Governor Clinton was informed that a large Loyalist and Indian raiding party, likely the same one, was in the environs of Shandaken; he was also informed that Esopus Indian warriors had built a blockhouse (a small fortification) somewhere on the West Branch of the Delaware River, and that they were being supplied with food by isolated Loyalist settlers in the Catskill Mountains.[5]

On July 23rd, Esopus Indian leader John Runnupe returned to Fort Niagara with a number of Rebel newspapers that he had taken in Ulster County. He also reported some major news: eighteen days earlier, from a lookout on the Catskill Escarpment – likely Overlook Mountain – he had “heard the firing and saw the smoke of two armies engaged [down the Hudson River] at Fish Kill… and it was afterwards told that General Washington had been defeated and was pursued twenty miles…. He also says that on his return he met, a little beyond Schoharie, fourteen days ago, a man who had come from the rebel army and was told by him that two days before that, the time the man came away, the British Forces were taking up the chain that the rebels had fixed across the river at the Highlands.”[6] Amazingly, based on the usual route taken by the Esopus Indians and their allies to reach Fort Niagara from the Catskills, John Runnupe would have traversed well over 300 miles in less than three weeks.
​
Simultaneously, George Washington’s massive expedition – known as the Sullivan Campaign – was making its way through Indian Country, destroying every house, every stalk of corn, and every fruit tree in their path until October. The Esopus Indian refugees who had temporarily resettled in the Genesee Valley a few months earlier were uprooted once again. Thousands of Native and Loyalist refugees fled to Fort Niagara for protection, just in time for one of the coldest winters on record. Many would not survive the frigid months that spanned 1779 and 1780, but most did; the British Indian Department’s ability to feed and shelter so many refugees of so many nations is nothing short of miraculous. When winter thawed to spring in May of 1780, the Esopus Indians who had camped outside Fort Niagara shifted to Buffalo Creek to the south near Lake Erie (near what is now Buffalo, NY), where the women could plant corn and survive for another year.[7] The warriors of the Six Nations and their allies prepared for revenge.
                                                                To Be Continued…

Citations:
[1] Correspondence with Officers at Niagara, 1777-1784. Haldimand Collection, Microfilm Reel number A-682. National Archives of Canada.
[2] “Major General Philip Schuyler to George Washington, 3 April 1779,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-19-02-0684. [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 19, 15 January–7 April 1779, ed. Philander D. Chase and William M. Ferraro. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2009, pp. 729–734.
[3] Haldimand Papers, 21767 Pt 4. National Archives of Canada.
[4] Public Papers of George Clinton, Vol IV. Albany, NY: 1900. 798-799; "The Story of Fatine Kill" in Olde Ulster, Vol. II. Benjamin Myer Brink, Kingston: 1906. 105-112.
[5] Sparks, Jared. Correspondence of the American Revolution. 299-301
[6] Correspondence with Officers at Niagara, 1777-1784. Haldimand Collection, Microfilm Reel number A-682. National Archives of Canada.
[7] Haldimand Papers, Reel h1448.1304. National Archives of Canada.

North River Steam-boats. -- Yesterday afternoon we had the pleasure of visiting the new and beautiful steam boat JAMES KENT, now lying at the foot of Liberty-street.  Through the politeness of Capt. Wiswall and Mr. Rhind, we enjoyed an opportunity of examining her from stem to stern, above and below, and of obtaining such facts, as will enable us to give a pretty accurate description of this superb vessel, which in many respects surpasses any boat, that has ever floated upon our waters.
       
The James Kent is about 140 feet in length; her extreme breadth 48 feet; and upwards of 400 tons burthen.  Her frame is composed entirely of live oak, locust, and cedar.  She is copper-fastened, secured in an extraordinary manner by screw bolts.  She was built by Messrs. Blossom, Smith & Demon, who have certainly done themselves great credit by this elegant specimen of naval architecture.
       
Her machinery is on a scale so gigantic, as apparently to require the anvils, hammers, and sinewy arms of Vulcan and the Cyclops to forge its massy wheels, bolts and bars.  The boiler is of copper, unusually thick and strong, weighing upwards of 30 tons, and amounting to nearly one third of the whole expense of the boat.  It is planned in such a manner, that if it should happen to burst, the water would immediately be carried through the bottom of the vessel by means of cast-iron tubes, or hollow pillars.  The copper was manufactured by the Soho Company.

The engine is modelled after the latest and most approved plan of the celebrated Mr. Watts, and was manufactured by the West Point Foundery Company.  It is decidedly one of the finest engines, that has yet been made in America, both as to the quality of the castings and the scientific arrangement of the machinery.  It occupies an unusually small space; and the workmanship is highly creditable to the manufacturers of our country.  We would here remark, that in all cases where it could be done, the company have given a decided preference to domestic fabrics.
       
The James Kent is finished in a style to comport with the superiority of her essential parts above described.  Few rooms in a private dwelling surpass her cabins in point of finish, neatness and elegance, or in richness of furniture.  Every attention has been paid to the comfort, convenience, and even luxury of the passengers. -- The gentlemen's dining cabin is capacious, airy, and lighted by eight or ten windows above, which may be opened or closed, as the weather may require.  A table is extended in a semicircular form quite round the room, nearly into the centre of which the stair-way leads.  The ladies' cabin and drawing-room, the former below and the latter on deck, exceed in splendour and elegance the gentlemen's apartment.  In the sitting room, the curtains are of blue damask, with orange drapery -- in the dining cabin, the curtains are embossed crimson moreen, with blue vallons and a richly wrought fringe.  The tables are mahogany, and the chairs and settees of birdseye maple, with cane bottoms.  Mirrors and other furniture equally splendid.
       
Aloft is a spacious and beautiful promenade, extending nearly the whole length of the vessel, shielded by an awning, and furnished with seats quite round the area.  The machinery is guarded by green blinds, and the pillars and upper works are highly gilt,
presenting a rich and brilliant appearance.  The upper deck is mounted by a finished flight of steps on each side of the boat.

On the stern, which is of superior workmanship, and ornamented with a variety of appropriate devices, is a tolerable likeness of the distinguished individual whose name
the boat bears, with a book in his hand. The whole exterior of the boat is such, as to present a noble and majestic figure, as she marches along the waters. 
       
We learn that the first trial of the James Kent was made on Tuesday last, and that she performed to the entire satisfaction of the company. She ascended as far as Catskill Landing, where the directors met. She traversed 110 miles in eleven hours, while her machinery was yet new, when the friction is much greater than it will be after a few trips.  There is no doubt but she will run through to Albany in fifteen hours.
       
This elegant boat will enter the North River Line on Monday morning next at 5 o'clock, which is to be the stated hour of her departure from the city, arriving at Albany early in the evening, and rendering it unnecessary for passengers to sleep on board. Half a century ago, it would have been thought the dream of a mad-man to predict, that the day would soon arrive when a person could travel the distance of 150 miles between morning and evening, amusing himself all the while, if he choose, with a book or with writing, enjoying the quiet and comfort of a private dwelling.  Modern improvements have outstripped the calculations of the most sanguine theorists; and such are the achievements of human ingenuity and a daring enterprise, guided by science and philosophy, that it is hardly safe to pronounce any scheme visionary. The time may not be distant, when Perkins invention [of a high-pressure steam engine] will bring into contempt the snail-like progress of a steam-boat, moving only ten miles an hour.
       
But until this new era in navigation shall arrive, the public will feel greatly obliged to the North River Company, for the heavy expenses they have incurred in building such a boat as the James Kent; for their unwearied pains to consult the ease and comfort of travellers; and for the credit they have done themselves and the state, in paying a handsome compliment to a great and good man.  ***
New-York Evening Post, August 15, 1823
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A TRIP TO ALBANY
Extracts from the Log-book of the New Steam-boat James Kent, Commodore Wiswall -- first regular trip.
Sunday night, August 17, 1823. -- Boat safe in her moorings, on Steamboat dock, foot of Courtlandt-street. Weather dubious --alternate clouds and star light. [Gets under way at 5:20, a. m., with 200 passengers] Wharves, and yard-arms of the shipping lined with spectators. . . .

Entered the High Lands at ½ past 9. Passed a school of North River craft, consisting of Hudson Packets, Albany sloops, Troy flat-bottoms, and Lansingburgh shallops, with scarcely any bottoms at all. Understand they are to build ships when they have deepened the upper end of the river, so as to make it run the other way. Spoke a vessel from the up-country -- (probably from Vermont) -- with a cargo of clap-boards, shingles, indian corn and children. . . .

Half-past 10. Passengers all on the upper deck gazing with wonder and delight upon the frowning crags and clouds-capt summits of the High-Lands. The interest in this part of the voyage was not a little heightened by the war-like notes of a patent bugle, blown by a perfect master. When passing the celebrated combination of echoes, the effect was such that we had, as it were, the benefit of nine bugles, all sending forth their wild and animating notes at once, and echoing from one glen to another. 

Eleven o'clock, opposite the Point and Military Academy.
At the landing we found the band of music of the station [sic], in uniform, and much to the satisfaction of the company, they came on board, to meet and return in the Richmond, which leaves Albany this morning.

Three quarters past 11. Off Newburgh. The whole village seemed to have swarmed; the wharves and piles of plaster of Paris, were covered with people. . . .

Half past one. Nothing remarkable occurred until we arrived at Poughkeepsie, and here we saw nothing but a remarkable collection of people. 

Three o'clock. Dinner announced -- time to exchange the crayon for a knife and fork. Dinner plentiful and excellent. 

Five o'clock. Invited below by the Commodore, to take a glass of wine. Having toasted the boat that bore us, it is here fit that se should attempt to convey some proper idea of her dimensions, convenience, and internal, as well as external elegance, to those who have not enjoyed the opportunity of visiting this "Chief" of nautical art. The James Kent is a vessel of more than four hundred tons burthen, built throughout in the strongest and most substantial manner. Her length upon deck is 140 feet, and her breadth of beam 43 -- a proportion very different from other boats, and which is thought by some, to have too much width. She is not so long as the Chancellor Livingston, but broader. She has every where [sic] an air of massy strength.

Her machinery, which is compressed into the smallest compass possible, and the whole of which is above the deck, is of the finest workmanship, and when in full operation, has an aspect almost appalling, from its magnitude and swiftness. Her engine (made at the West Point Foundery) is of one hundred and twenty horse power, and her boiler weighs thirty tons. The latter is of copper, and so constructed, that should it burst, the water will escape below, instead of being precipitated into the cabins, or on the deck. She has two cabins below, and a private apartment for the ladies on deck. The largest cabin, or drawing room, as it is called, is an ample and airy apartment, well lighted and ventilated from above, and furnished with great elegance. The curtains at its sides, and in front of the births, are of embossed crimson moreen, with a valiance of blue and very rich fringe. The table, which are of mahogany, are so constructed that when drawn out they extend all round the apartment, and when not in use, fold up in a compact manner, occupying little room. The settees are of that beautiful American wood, the birds-eye maple, with cane bottoms. The ladies' cabin is furnished with additional beauty, and the apartment on deck is truly superb, being richly carpeted, and hung with blue damask and an orange drapery. The kitchen is situated between the cabins below, where, in the other boats the machinery is placed. The walk, on deck, extends the whole length of the boat, passing round the ladies' apartment, and also extending over the top of it, to which you ascent by a flight of steps on each side. It is covered throughout by an awning (which, however, is already much injured by sparks from the chimney.) The appearance of the boat is much improved by surrounding the works with green blinds, and ornamenting such parts of them as admitted of it, by painting and gilding. There is a medallion on the stern, in which is a bust of the distinguished jurist and civilian after whom the vessel is named, and the prow is decorated with carved work of great elegance.

Passed the Richmond, Capt. T. Wiswall, from Albany, at half past 5 -- gave and received six cheers. Near the seat of the late Chancellor Livingston, passed through a school of sturgeon; many of them were leaping out of the water -- some said in honor of the new boat, which other contended that they were merely looking as usual, to see if they had arrived at Albany.

Passed Catskill (a fine bustling village, which has very modestly been built out of sight) -- at 7 o'clock, and Hudson at a quarter before eight. At the latter place, more than a thousand spectators were gazing from the shore, and the "round house"

A strong ebb tide had somewhat retarded our progress ever since we left the Highlands, and the anxious looks of the commodore, informed us but too well, that he feared so much of the water level had run off to the ocean, that we should not have enough left to get over the Overslaugh -- above which Albany was undoubtedly built to prevent an enemy from approaching by water.                                                                                                                                                               
Ten o'clock. -- Were met by the Fire-Fly, which had been sent down as a tender, or lighters, in anticipation of trouble. Half past 10 -- fast aground on the Overslaugh. Fire-Fly came along side -- much confusion, and looking for trunks -- some swearing, and many long faces -- worked hard 'till 12 o'clock, in fruitless endeavors to get off.

Sent off the Fly with all the passengers who wished to go, with their baggage. The others retired to their berths. At half past 12, got off, and at 1 o'clock were at Albany. N. B. machinery new -- not worn smooth -- lost more than two hours at landing places -- started at 20 minutes after the time appointed -- stemmed the tide more than 100 miles -- or we should have been in Albany by 8 o'clock -- or in 15 hours from New-York. 

Tuesday, August 19. [reception at Albany] Wednesday morning -- 5 o'clock. -- This was the appointed hour for setting the engine in motion on our return to New-York; but only a few of the passengers had made their appearance. They were mustering down, however, many of them scarcely half awake; some with unbuttoned waistcoats; others with their cravats in their hands; and many of them (being obliged to act as their own porters,) puffing and blowing with a trunk under one arm, and a valice under the other. 

Got under way at 25 minutes near the Overslaugh half an hour past 5, with about one hundred and fifty passengers -- the other hundred and fifty, who intended to come, having been left. 

Five to eight o'clock. -- Delayed near the Overslaugh half an hour by the fog; company rather dull. The islands and shored upon both sides, appeared as fresh, green and beautiful as ever. -- The scenery for 25 miles below Albany, is pleasing, but instead of the rugged mountain, and the foaming torrent, the eye of the traveller rests upon green pastures, rich vales, luxuriant meadows, and golden fields of grain, with here and there a gentle brook or rivulet, winding its way slowly, until it is lost in the bosom of the Hudson. Passed Hudson, a distance of thirty miles, at twenty minutes after eight -- being just three hours from the time of starting. At least 800 spectators on the hill, which unfortunately hides the city from the river. Took in a large number of passengers.

Eight o'clock and forty minutes, Met the Richmond, 66 hours [sic] and a half from New-York. Boarded her, and got the Commercial Advertiser and Evening Post, of last evening. First article announced, was the "Yellow Fever," and the appalling news spread through the different apartments of the boat like wild fire. The alarm, however, was but momentary, as it soon appeared to be the a case, or rather an attempt to get up a case of domestic origin. Many learned discussions followed, all of which have at different times appeared in the newspapers. Passed Catskill at 9. 

One o'clock, P. M. Opposite Hyde Park, in approaching which there was some concern expressed at the appearance of a great number of strange animals in the water. As we approached them, their heads appeared of the human form, and from the shrill cries of a number of them, a Scotsman who had visited the Orkneys, declared his belief that they were Mermaids. Counted forty-seven of them, but in their haste to get out of the way of the boat, we found that their lower extremities had neither fins nor scales. N. B. If these animals are amphibious, or belong to the finny race, should advise the people of Hyde Park to catch a few of them. If they are men and boys, belonging to the place, they ought to be whipped into better manners. 

At three o'clock were dining while passing Newburgh. At West Point we landed the band, and the officers who accompanied us to Albany and back. N. B. The band had been sent on board by Col. Thayer, the accomplished Commander at West Point, at the request of Commodore Wiswall, for which act of politeness there was an unanimous feeling of gratitude on the part of 200 passengers who went up -- 150 who came down -- and all the citizens of Albany and Troy (which places the band visited and serenaded last evening.) -- Continued our voyage pleasantly several hours, without having any thing strange or comical to record.

Six o'clock. -- In the Tappan Sea, where the tempest had once been so nearly fatal to the gallant Peter Stuyvesant. Met the Steam-boat Chancellor Livingston, Center, in two hour from New-York. Boarded and got the newspapers. No yellow fever, and the Albany merchants concluded not to stop at Greenwich. While sailing beneath the towering pallisades of Rockland, the sun bade us good night, and the "moon" ushered in one of the most delightful evenings that we ever beheld.

At fifteen minutes after 10, we arrived at the foot of Courtlandt street; and before 11 of Wednesday, the writer of this, was in his own house, having left New-York on Monday morning -- slept at Albany on Monday night -- spent Tuesday in visiting his friends at Albany and Troy -- and slept again in Albany on Tuesday night. Such, with enterprising owners, and active agents, are the facilities of travelling by steam, at the present day. Who knows, when we get Perkin's engine in full blast, but that New Yorkers, instead of going to Albany to tea, may go there to attend to their bank business, dine, and return home to tea! One of our citizens who returned in the KENT, had travelled eight hundred and ninety miles in eight days, including two days devoted to his business, at Chazy.

But to conclude. No excursion to the country could have been more pleasant and grateful to the feelings than this. The expedition with which we travelled, regardless of winds and tides, was unprecedented, and the accommodations good enough for any body. But a few years ago it was quite a serious undertaking to go to Albany. Now, we can go in a few hours, without inconvenience or fatigue, and attended with all the comforts and elegancies of a splendid hotel. On this occasion, the company, both ways, were highly pleased with their fare, and gratified with the politeness and attention of the Commodore -- nor did they leave the boat without feeling a deep sense of the obligation the public are under for all these comforts, elegancies and conveniences, to the FULTON STEAM BOAT COMPANY.

“A Trip to Albany.” New-York Spectator, August 26, 1823, from Commercial Advertiser, August 22, 1823,