We came up through the midst of all, in the full sun. I especially
enjoy'd the last hour or two. A moderate sea-breeze had set in; yet
over the city, and the waters adjacent, was a thin haze, concealing
nothing, only adding to the beauty. From my point of view, as I write
amid the soft breeze, with a sea-temperature, surely nothing on earth
of its kind can go beyond this show. To the left the North river
with its far vista--nearer, three or four war-ships, anchor'd
peacefully--the Jersey side, the banks of Weehawken, the Palisades,
and the gradually receding blue, lost in the distance--to the right
the East river--the mast-hemm'd shores--the grand obelisk-like towers
of the bridge, one on either side, in haze, yet plainly defin'd, giant
brothers twain, throwing free graceful interlinking loops high across
the tumbled tumultuous current below--(the tide is just changing to
its ebb)--the broad water-spread everywhere crowded--no, not crowded,
but thick as stars in the sky--with all sorts and sizes of sail and
steam vessels, plying ferry-boats, arriving and departing coasters,
great ocean Dons, iron-black, modern, magnificent in size and power,
fill'd with their incalculable value of human life and precious
merchandise--with here and there, above all, those daring, careening
things of grace and wonder, those white and shaded swift-darting
fish-birds, (I wonder if shore or sea elsewhere can outvie them,) ever
with their slanting spars, and fierce, pure, hawk-like beauty and
motion--first-class New York sloop or schooner yachts, sailing, this
fine day, the free sea in a good wind.
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