Once more do I write you from the _Springs_, where I enjoyed so many delightful moments last year. We recall so many charming things to our recollection by this visit to the Springs that ’tis of all places the most pleasant for us to visit. A description of the place, amusements, etc. I gave you last year; they are the same now. We arrived yesterday morning, found the place much crowded, and were fearful of not getting good accommodations, but in that respect were agreeably disappointed. They dance much as usual; a fine ball to-morrow evening. I wish you were here to help us dance,—a great many New Yorkers have taken refuge here from the fever. I was quite sorry when I found Mr. Derby had been here and gone again. Tell Louise the _Bussey_ family from Boston are here, and Miss Putnam appears as much delighted with the _picturesque steeps_ of Ballston as she was with those of _Freeport_, and with about as much reason. We have an abundance of queer, smart people here. Last night at tea I found myself seated alongside _Beau Dawson_,[64] “_Nancy Dawson_,”—our envoy to France—you remember! Gen. Smith of Baltimore and family, who it was said would succeed Uncle Rufus; Mr. Harper and wife—the fine speaker in Congress; _Herssa Madame_ Somebody—French lady; and a nobleman from nobody knows where, and a parcel of strange people, making a variety that I like once in a while. But, let me see, I have hurried you along to the Springs from Long Branch in a much easier manner than I got here myself. Oh the tremendous Highlands![65] I thought to my soul I should never hold out to get over them—such roads! But I lived over it, tho’ it made me sick fairly, with fatigue. I went to see Maria Denning, whose father’s country seat, Beverly, is in the midst of the Highlands—on the North River, directly opposite _West Point_. It does not look much like Louisa’s picture; ’twould make one of the most sublime and beautiful pictures imaginable if the objects were selected with judgment. It rises with sublime and picturesque grandeur directly from the North River. Who would have thought of taking a view of it without water?—that is the greatest beauty when united with the others. We got to Mr. Denning’s Saturday night,—left the neighborhood of New York, Thursday,—where we staid only one night, dined at Uncle’s, drank tea at Sister Murray’s, and set off that evening for the Springs. The romantic and beautiful scenery on the North River as we rode up was most charming to me. I admire the wild diversity of nature—here we had it in perfection. I am sure the _Hudson_ wants nothing but a Poet to celebrate it. The Thames and the Tiber have been sung by Homers and Popes, but I don’t believe there can be a greater variety, more sublimity or more beauty, than are to be found on the banks of the Hudson. The Delaware did not strike me at all—I crossed it several times.