As I looked into the altered eyes of my companions, I was tempted to ask, "Look I as cross as you ?" Indeed, I believe that, if possible, I looked crosser still, for the roads and the vehicle together were quite too much for my philosophy.
At length, however, we found ourselves alive on board the boat which was to convey us down the Raraton River to New York.
We fully intended to have gone to bed, to heal our bones, on entering the steam-boat, but the sight of a table neatly spread determined us to go to dinner instead.

Sin and shame would it have been, indeed, to have closed our eyes upon the scene which soon opened before us.

I have never seen the bay of Naples, I can therefore make no comparison, but my imagination is incapable of conceiving any thing of the kind more beautiful than the harbour of New York.

Various and lovely are the objects which meet the eye on every side, but the naming them would only be to give a list of words, without conveying the faintest idea of the scene.

I doubt if ever the pencil of Turner could do it justice, bright and glorious as it rose upon us.