I would that some British artist, strong in youthful daring, would take my word for it, and pass over, for a summer pilgrimage through the State of New York.

In very earnest, he would wisely, for I question if the world could furnish within the same space, and with equal facility of access, so many subjects for his pencil.

Mountains, forests, rocks, lakes, rivers, cataracts, all in perfection.

But he must be bold as a lion in colouring, or he will make nothing of it.

There is a clearness of atmosphere, a strength of _chiaro oscuro_, a massiveness in the foliage, and a brilliance of contrast, that must make a colourist of any one who has an eye.
He must have courage to dip his pencil in shadows black as night, and light that might blind an eagle.