of the Cataract, and you, gentlemen, who stand on this porch, witnessing this pitiless rain, you see before you one who has a tempest of sorrows a-beatin' upon his head continually. Wanst I was wo'th twenty thousand dollars, and I driv the saddling profession. Circumstances alters cases: now I wish for to solicit charity. Some of you seems benevolent, and I do believe I am not destined to rank myself among those who could travel from Dan to Beersheba, and say all is barren. No-I scorn to brag — but I am intelligent beyond my years, and my education has been complete. I have read Wolney's Ruins, Marshall's Life of Washington, and Pope's Easy on Man, and most of the literature of the day, as contained in the small newspapers. But the way I'm situated at present, is scandalous. The fact is, my heart is broke, and I'm just Ishmaelizing about the globe, with a sombre brow, and a bosom laden with wo. Who will help me speak singly, gentlemen-who will 'ease my griefs, and drive my cares away?' as Isaac Watts says, in one of his devotional poems.'

No answer was returned. A general laugh arose. The pride of the mendicant was excited: rage got the better of his humility; and shaking his fist in the face of the by-standers, he roared out:

'You're all a pack of poor, or'nary common people. You insult honest poverty; but I do not hang my head for a' that,' as Burns says. I will chastise any man here, for two three-cent drinks of Monagohale whiskey: yes, though I have but lately escaped shipwreck, coming from Michigan to Buffalo, and am weak from loss of strength; yet I will whip the best of you. Let any on ye come over to the Black Rock Rail-road Dee-pott, and I'll lick him like a d-n!'

'Never mind that part of it,' said one; 'tell us about the shipwreck.'

'Ah!' he continued, 'that was a scene! Twenty miles out at sea, on the lake. the storm bustin' upon the deck — the waves, like mad tailors, making breeches over it continually the lightnings a-bustin' overhead, and hissing in the water. the clouds meeting the earth-the land just over the lee-bow-every mast in splintersevery sail in rags women a-screechin' farmers' wives, emigratin' to the west, calling for their husbands and hell yawnin' all around! A good many was dreadfully sea-sick; and one man, after casting forth every thing beside, with a violent retch, threw up his boots. Oh, gentlemen, it was awful! At length came the last and destructivest billow. It struck the ship on the left side, in the neighborhood of the poop and all at wanst, I felt something under us breakin' away. The vessel was parting! One half the crew was drowned-passengers was praying, and commending themselves to heaven. I alone escaped the watery doom.'

'And how did you manage to redeem yourself from destruction?' was the general inquiry.

"Why, gentlemen, the fact is, I seen how things was a-goin', and I took my hat and went ashore!'

The last I saw of this Munchausen, was as our coach wheeled away. He had achieved a 'drink,' and was perambulating through the mud, lightened, momentarily, of his sorrows.

As you journey to the North, from Niagara to Lewiston, you catch, ever and anon, through the leafy screen of the trees, distant views of the Great Cataract. In the pauses of your carriage wheels, come the thunder of the torrent and the dimness of the spray. On your left, there is a great gulf fixed,' to which the Gulf of Hades might be imagined to have resemblance. Now and then, crowned with glittering rainbows, you see the Falls, like the 'great white sheet let down from heaven,' as beheld of old in the portable larder that met the apostle's startled vision. Then a thickening cloud of spray, filled with 'thunderings and voices,' hides it from your view. Mile after mile, you continue your tour, the great Gulf still at your side, the complaining river rolling apparently leagues beneath you—horrid chasms and frowning precipices, around whose bases the foaming waves eddy and howl- until, by and by, you ascend that incomparable hill which overlooks the scenes of Lewiston and Queenston. The delighted eye beholds the sinking current grow calmer and calmer; the blue vistas of Canadian woods and plains stretch themselves in blending colors and undulations to the far and fairy radius of the horizon; and as the river rolls onward to the Ontario, like a huge serpent of gold winding through the landscape- as the tall shaft of BROCK's monument paints its delicate outline against the evening sky, and the fainter sound of the distant cataract is taken on the freshening wind, among the far-off cedars, waving against a gush of farewell crimson in the west - the scene is inspiration, and the place becomes religion.

WHILE Our supper was in preparation at Lewiston, I opened the window which looked toward the South, in the direction whence we had come. Haply, thought I, the cataract may yet send its farewell voice to my ear. I listened attentively, auribus erectis, and solemnly, on the swelling gusts and creeping murmurs of the evening, as they rose and fell, swayed by the sweeping of the tides of air,' came the majestic hum and air-tremble of the Falls! How impressive was that sound! Throned afar in the forest sceptered with its gorgeous coronet of lunar rainbows-its regal impulse rushing through the darkness on the wings of the wind — Niagara lifted to beaven its vocal and eternal anthem! How many generations, thought I, shall come and go- how many loving hearts go back to dust how many lips be dumb in death,

and their soft breath with pain Be yielded to the elements again,

before Niagara shall be tuneless, or its stormy tones be muffled! Power, more than kingly! Voice, louder and steadier than the clangour of battle, or the peal of the ephemeral earthquake, ingulfing plains and cities! In the language of the bard, 'Thy days are everlasting!' Thou camest from the palm of Him who hath measured the earth, and who sees the pestilence stain the noon-day at his bidding! Who that breathes, will ever behold the consummation of thy destiny? None! Autumn after autumn, with its gold-dropping

orchards, its painted woodlands and hollow sighs, shall come and go; spring will prank the earth with violets and verdure; summer shall glow, and deadly winter pale the earth- but over all thou wilt triumph, until this sphere shall heave at the voice of the Almighty, and the trump of the Archangel!

Or the road from Lewiston to Lockport, and of that famous country town, what shall I say? I would say nothing- but I must say something. I feel in the predicament wherein is placed Dennis BULGRUDDERY, in the play, with respect of his rib. I can hear nothing bad of her,' he says to a guest at the 'Red Cow,' which hotel he kept; you can say nothing good of her, without telling a d-d lie; and in coorse, the less you say, the better.' Thus am I situated and circumstanced, as touching the road and last place herein beforementioned.

With a postillion (of the just-adopted Telegraph) dressed in a flaming red coat, for which he had exchanged his own for a 'consideration,' with a deserting private in the Canadian army, we pushed slowly on from Lewiston to Lockport. Mud, without end or bottomalluvial pudding― thickened and gurgled on every side. Postillion was not to be hurried. No-'he was a free Amerikin driver, be Gosh,' was his reply to one or two Birmingham or Sheffield agents, hastening homeward in the next packet from NewYork-and he guessed that any body that went for to stir him up in the lively line, would get crucified and come over, almighty slick.' And he kept his word. Through pools, and over particularly stony and dangerous spots, he wended swift as Phaeton with his aĕrial team; but where the thoroughfare was good, a snail would have distanced his lagging move.

LOCKPORT is famous for its deep-cut in the canal. Representations of this great achievement I had seen in print, and had supposed that it was a marvel of the first water. It came to pass, therefore, when we saw the sole steeple of the village rising over a level country in the east, that we looked earnestly for the Deep Cut. We continued to gaze until we had reached the hotel, when we sallied forth in the rain, with a friend or two, in rabid quest of the wonder. The first view we obtained was from the village bridge. Never was there a more complete disappointment. The line of the canal, to the west, appears very like its usual long and snake-like length; and I put it to the reader, if one very often looks upon a more common thing than a canal, after you have travelled across, and alongside, and around it, for some two or three hundred miles? This, then, was the Deep Cut! Oh, minimum of marvels! A look or two was suffegeance. It was a rainy day; the village grocers were taking in their cod-fish and fly-bespotted macaroni; every thing was gloomy and dismal consequently it was resolved nem. con., to give the Deep Cut a dead cut, which was suddenly performed.

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In the lower town, our vehicular machinery stuck fast in the mud. This afforded time for a maiden lady, of whom I shall speak anon, to sally forth from an indifferent-looking domicil, near the upper quartier, and take her seat. At last, the imbedded wheels asserted their freedom, and went gushing along, at the rate of a mile an hour, precisely like the pawing wheels of a steam-boat in a heavy sea on LongIsland Sound.

STOPPED a few minutes to say how-d'ye-do to a clever relation. Found ample time for my purpose, while the coach was lumbering by. Looked out from his handsome law-office upon a wide domain of mud, and meadows filled with stumps, and ancient logs, reeking with the rain. Every thing looked remorselessly unprepossessing. The clay in the road was of a yellowish cream color, some uniform fifteen inches deep, beside. Anathematized the town to my sometime companion, averring solemnly unto him, that if Lockport were built of ducats, and the abdomen of every little hill in its neighborhood pregnant with precious stones and jewels, I would not there reside. I still hold my mind; but mayhap a fair day, a robe of sunshine over that region, and other appliances and pleasaunces to boot, would have altered my opinions. But what I've writ, I've writ― perchance unjustly to the place. But 'situated, and I might add, circumstanced as I was,' and with my present memories, I must say 'them's my sentiments. Fair words I blow to the winds, and candor reigns supreme. Yet I have heard those whose judgment is law with me on the subject of scenery, declare that Lockport is possessed of delightful haunts - that the neighborhood around is like a paradise, in summer. I will believe them; and I charge the elements with the verdict of my first impressions.

We soon found that the maiden lady who entered at Lockport was a person of great scholastic acquirements, and of a very communicative turn of mind. A few miles from that town, (which whoso entereth, if in our way of thought, will reach without emotion and leave without regret,) we entered, out of a lonely and muddy turnpike, much the same as that at Lockport, upon that delectable road, denominated Ridge. It is good in rain or shine. Some inquiries being made, whether we were not on better ground, the maiden oped her vocal orifice, and observed: 'A'yes-that were the Ridge-d Road which we have stricken, on the brow of the hill, o'er which the driver have just riz!'

Shortly after this, she abdicated, and was deposited at the house of a friend by the way-side.

WHAT shall I say of Rochester -one of the Queens of the West? The approach to it is through a delicious country, that will yet be cultured by the hand of taste into a very Eden. What fair embowered towns, with their white steeples, occur at intervals on every side! What a sweet and rosy generation is rising around! We saw

orchards, its painted woodlands and hollow sighs, shall come and go; spring will prank the earth with violets and verdure; summer shall glow, and deadly winter pale the earth- but over all thou wilt triumph, until this sphere shall heave at the voice of the Almighty, and the trump of the Archangel!

Or the road from Lewiston to Lockport, and of that famous country town, what shall I say? I would say nothing— but I must say something. I feel in the predicament wherein is placed DENNIS BULGRUDDERY, in the play, with respect of his rib. I can hear nothing bad of her,' he says to a guest at the Red Cow,' which hotel he kept; you can say nothing good of her, without telling a d-d lie; and in coorse, the less you say, the better.' Thus am I situated and circumstanced, as touching the road and last place herein beforementioned.

With a postillion (of the just-adopted Telegraph) dressed in a flaming red coat, for which he had exchanged his own for a 'consideration,' with a deserting private in the Canadian army, we pushed slowly on from Lewiston to Lockport. Mud, without end or bottom alluvial pudding thickened and gurgled on every side.

Postillion was not to be hurried. No-'he was a free Amerikin driver, be Gosh,' was his reply to one or two Birmingham or Sheffield agents, hastening homeward in the next packet from NewYork and he guessed that any body that went for to stir him up in the lively line, would get crucified and come over, almighty slick.' And he kept his word. Through pools, and over particularly stony and dangerous spots, he wended swift as Phæton with his aërial team; but where the thoroughfare was good, a snail would have distanced his lagging move.

LOCKPORT is famous for its deep-cut in the canal. Representations of this great achievement I had seen in print, and had supposed that it was a marvel of the first water. It came to pass, therefore, when we saw the sole steeple of the village rising over a level country in the east, that we looked earnestly for the Deep Cut. We continued to gaze until we had reached the hotel, when we sallied forth in the rain, with a friend or two, in rabid quest of the wonder. The first view we obtained was from the village bridge. Never was there a more complete disappointment. The line of the canal, to the west, appears very like its usual long and snake-like length; and I put it to the reader, if one very often looks upon a more common thing than a canal, after you have travelled across, and alongside, and around it, for some two or three hundred miles? This, then, was the Deep Cut! Oh, minimum of marvels! A look or two was suffegeance. It was a rainy day; the village grocers were taking in their cod-fish and fly-bespotted macaroni; every thing was gloomy and dismal consequently it was resolved nem. con., to give the Deep Cut a dead cut, which was suddenly performed.

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