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work at half-past four in the morning. There appeared to be some excellent workmen amongst them at almost every trade. Each trade is carried on in a separate workshop, superintended by an overlooker, and not a word is permitted to be spoken ; their labour is let out to wholesale contractors, who allow the government ls. 3d. a-day for each man. They are strictly watched through secret holes in the wall by turnkeys, who can at all times see them without being seen.

I left Auburn at four in the morning by railroad for Syracuse, twentyfive miles, and from thence proceeded by canal boat to Oswego on Lake Ontario, thirty-eight miles : the fare throughout was three dollars. We reached Oswego at five in the morning, and from thence I at once took passage in a steamer, seventy miles across the lake, to Kingston in Canada.

CHAPTER III.

KINGSTON LAKE OF THE THOUSAND ISLES RAFIDS OF THE ST.

LAWRENCE-MONTREAL-SORELL — ST. CYMON -QUEBEC AND ENVIRONS.

When I arrived at Kingston I could almost have fancied myself in England again, so much did every object that met my eye recall recollections of home. The Union Jack of England floated proudly in the breeze; British officers in their gay uniforms paraded the streets, while their military band was playing those delightful national airs that strike so home to the feelings of every Englishman. Then there was a strongly contested game of cricket between the townspeople and the soldiers; and the forty-second regiment of Highlanders, in their picturesque costume, were performing their evolutions on parade, to the delight and astonishment of all the women and children in the place; while policemen were imploring people “to move on," and not kick up a shindy. But Kingston, notwithstanding it is the seat of government in Canada, is really, after all, a poor place, though, from its commanding position on the St. Lawrence, of great importance to us.

From Kingston I embarked on board a large steamer for Prescott, seventy miles. This is the most beautiful portion of the noble St. Lawrence, and called the Lake of the Thousand Isles. It is impossible to conceive anything prettier than these clusters of little islets, all of which are beautifully wooded, and of every variety of shape and form: the scenery at times reminded me of the Upper Mississippi, and it only wanted Indians and Indian villages to render the resemblance still more complete. I landed at Prescott, a miserable village on the Canada side, with the American town of Ogdensburg immediately opposite; from thence I embarked at four the next morning on board a very small steamer, called a puffer, of about three-donkey power, which took me direct to Montreal (120 miles) over all the rapids. The pilots are obliged to make their calculations with the greatest nicety, as in some places the water is so shallow, and the channel so contracted, that a deviation six feet either way would prove fatal to the vessel. With what inconceivable rapidity we darted along! The most dangerous of the rapids are those called the Cedars; the grandest, the Lachine, which commence about nine miles above Montreal. "An Indian pilot, one of the finest men I

appearance

ever saw, took us down the latter in beautiful style: the fellow had an eye like an eagle, and no one was allowed to say a word to him. The

of Montreal from the water is very striking. I had a delightful ramble of six miles round the mountain at the back of the city, which commands some beautiful views. I also visited the Catholic cathedral, but did not think much of it. The exterior is massive and plain, but the interior is in the worst possible taste, being decorated in the most tawdry manner imaginable. The streets of Montreal are narrow, but they are beautifully paved with wood, and the granite quays along the river would do credit to any city.

From Montreal I went to Sorell, a small town forty-five miles down the river, at which I passed two or three days with Mrs. P— and her amiable family, from whom I experienced the greatest hospitality and kindness. There is a pretty wood near Sorell

, in which we had many delightful excursions ; but the land in the neighbourhood is very barren and sandy, and the inhabitants, French Canadians, are all rebels at heart. One fellow told me they hated the English almost as much as their neighbours the Yankees. They are a most discontented set, and don't appear to me to know exactly what they want; but my own impression is, that a thorough good dressing would do them an infinite deal of good. At this place I bargained with a man for five dollars to drive me thirty miles into the interior of the country to St. Cymon, having a letter of introduction to Mr. Fr, the lord of the seignory there.

There are some neat little farms a few miles from Sorell ; but the country for the most part is flat, and the land apparently poor. The cottages, invariably built of wood (save the chimney), were remarkably white and neat-looking. The country generally had a very neat and primitive aspect; and here and there they were busily employed felling trees and rooting out old stumps. About two in the afternoon we came to a beautifully wild river, the Yamaska, on the banks of which stood Mr. F's pretty villa, the English colours flying from a flagstaff on the lawn. On presenting my letter, I met with a most cordial reception. I passed three or four delightful days here, and found Mr. F a most agreeable companion, and full of anecdote and fun. He kept an exquisite table, and such a variety of wines that it was difficult to imagine oneself in the wilds of Canada. We generally dined at three, and strolled in the evening about the farm, which was the very picture of neatness and good management. I had many delightful drives in the neighbourhood ; but the country about here is not very interesting after you leave the banks of the pretty Yamaska.

I returned from St. Cymon to Sorell, from whence I embarked at night on board a large steamer for Quebec (140 miles), and arrived there at seven the next morning. I was up at daybreak; and think I never saw anything more strikingly picturesque than the appearance of this famed city, the capital of the Canadas, as viewed from the deck of the steampacket. Its beautiful situation on the lofty promontory of Cape Diamond, 300 or 400 feet above the river--the magnificent fort on the very summit of the cape, from which the English colours were flying—the romantic promontories on the opposite coast—and the majestic St. Lawrence, alive with vessels of almost every description, including her Majesty's ship of war the Illustrious, of 72 guns, completed one of the most charming pictures I ever gazed upon.

I passed ten delightful days at Quebec, and shall long remember the hospitality of my friends there, especially of the officers of the 82nd regiment, of Mr. J.

-S,
and

many other residents in the town. These gentlemen not only invited me to agreeable parties, but drove me to all the most interesting objects in the lovely environs of Quebec. Independently of its extreme beauty of situation, Quebec is interesting from its historical associations. I visited Wolfe's Cove, where he landed his army before daybreak and gained the heights of Abraham, on the 13th of September, 1759, where the battle was fought, and both generals killed. A small column marks the precise spot where Wolfe received his mortal wound, from which I copied the following inscription--" Here died Wolfe victorious.”

The view from the fort is exquisitely beautiful ; you have the noble river, with its islands, shipping, and romantic promontories immediately beneath, and a country on every side as lovely as rock, woodland, water, and mountain can render it. In my ramble round the ramparts, the spot where the American General Montgomery was killed, when attempting to scale the works in 1775, was pointed out to me.

The regiments in garrison at Quebec at the time of my visit were the 68th, the 70th, and the 82nd; and I always made a point of attending parade. It was a cheering sight to see 1000 men, preceded by their military band, defile from the romantic heights to the plains below; but the beautiful precision and accuracy with which the 82nd regiment went through their evolutions was the delight of every one, and really made the heart of an Englishman expand with national pride.

My mornings were generally passed visiting the beautiful environs of Quebec with one or other of my kind friends. One day we drove twentyfive miles to the Indian village of Lorette, returning by the Falls of Montmorenci, which dash over a precipice 220 feet high. That part of the river called the “Natural Steps" is beautifully wild and romantic. On another occasion I accompanied a party of ladies and gentlemen to Grosse Isle, a lovely spot about thirty miles from Quebec, and the quarantine station. We were there most hospitably entertained by the Hon. Mr. N-the officer on duty; and had altogether a most delightful time of it, for the scenery was very captivating, and so indeed were many of the Canadian young ladies who accompanied us.

I left Quebec on the same evening by the packet for Montreal, after having shaken hands with my kind friend, probably for the last time.

Though friend after friend may each falsely depart,

Though life's dreary shadows around us may fall,
One shake of the hand that is felt at the heart,-

And oh! 'tis a beautiful world, after all.

CHAPTER IV.

LAKE CHAMPLAIN-LAKE GEORGE-SARATOGA SPRINGS - TRENTON

FALLS-SCENERY OF THE HUDSON-THE KATSKILL OUNTAINS WEST POINT-NEW YORK-BOSTON-HOME.

On reaching Montreal I crossed the river to Lapraire, and from thence took the railroad to St. John's on Lake Champlain, seventeen miles farther. There I found the Whitehall, a magnificent steamer, which con

veyed me 127 miles on to Ticonderoga, nearly at the other extremity of thé Lake. We touched at Plattsburg, where a severe engagement, both by land and by water, took place during the last war with Great Britain, in which we had the worst of it, and lost our naval commander Downie, who fell while leading his ships to the attack of the American flotilla at anchor in Cumberland Bay, off Plattsburg.

I passed Sunday at Fort Ticonderoga, the only ruin I have seen in America. It is of no great antiquity, having been built by the French in 1756. In 1758 it was attacked by General Abercrombie, who was repulsed with the loss of 2000 men. In 1759 it was abandoned by the French, and continued in possession of the British until the commencement of the revolutionary war. Immediately opposite is Mount Defiance, a finely wooded eminence, which was occupied by the artillery of Burgoyne in the same war. My informant, an humble cottager close by, gave me these particulars, and a large bullet which he had recently ploughed up. He appeared to be thoroughly acquainted with the history, the brief history, of his own country; and upon the whole, I am inclined to think that the lower classes in this country are better educated than with us. The scenery around the fort, including the lake, and the wooded heights around, is extremely pretty, and not unlike that of Scotland. The hotel is in a wood just above the lake. One of the visitors, an eminent divine from Philadelphia, read the church service under the trees; and the whole scene, from its pleasing and novel character, was much calculated to inspire feelings proper to the occasion.

The next morning I sent on my baggage, and walked four miles through a romantic country to the head of Lake George. There I found the Lady of the Lake getting up her steam for her passage to Caldwell. The scenery of Lake George throughout is, as the Yankees say, “ dreadful pretty," though not, I think, equal to Loch Katrine, to which I have often heard it compared. There is too great a sameness about it to please me, though some of its projecting crags are certainly very picturesque, especially one called Rogers’ Slide, celebrated as the spot where Colonel Rogers escaped from the Indians during the French war, by sliding down its slanting surface to the ice on the lake beneath.

On reaching Caldwell I amused myself by reading a great deal of original poetry in the visitors' book there, which proves beyond a doubt that the Yankees are not so totally devoid of sentiment as people at home are led to imagine. What can be more beautiful than the following outbreak of passion addressed to the fascinating Miss Howe, of Saratoga Springs ?-

When weary I are
I smokes my cigar,
And as the smoke rises,
And gets in my eyeses,
I think of thee, dearest,

And oh! HOW I sighest. From Caldwell I proceeded by stage to Saratoga Springs, twentyseven miles. The country through which we passed was not particularly interesting, and the crops looked

very

tbin. I sat on the box with the driver, from whom I obtained a good deal of very

interesting information. The country people were busy with their hay. From all I could under

stand, the price of labour is much higher than with us ; the lowest wages for mowing being a dollar a-day each man, besides his keep. We passed Bloody Pond, near which a severe engagement took place in 1755, and halted at the little village of Glen Falls to breakfast, and to visit the Falls on the Hudson, which are very beautiful. In the course of the journey we stopped at a road-side inn to water our horses; and perceiving the landlord rocking himself in chair at the door, with a pitcher of water and glasses before him, I very civilly requested him to hand me up a glass.

Well, now," said the fellow, in a tone of calm insolence, “I reckon, if it ain't worth your while to come down for it, it ain't worth my

while to bring it; and you may drink with the horses, for what I care."

This made me feel quite dandery. “Why, you vile cur!" I responded, “I merely asked you to do that for me which under similar circumstances I would willingly have done for you ; but it is evident that, like most of your class, you mistake insolence for independence.”

“ By the stars and the stripes, colonel,” said the driver, as he touched up his horses," he's quite crippled for once, a surly old crittur! you were down upon him like a thousand of brick."

I passed several days at Saratoga, and could scarcely perhaps have timed my visit better, for the place was overflowing with fashionables from almost every State in the Union. We had balls every evening; and certainly a man may travel far and wide and not see so many beautiful women assembled together in one spot as he will find here; but then the American ladies are so deficient in animation, and there appears for the most part so much apathy about them, that you feel perfectly convinced in your own mind, that if they marry at all they will marry prudently-with perhaps a greater regard for the happy man's dollars than for the happy man himself. I passed several hours in the drawing-room one day, where I kept both my eyes and my ears open. The conversation of the young ladies was of the most insipid character; they sat together in groups, attended by long-haired youths with turned-down collars, who handed them ices, and occasionally took something nice themselves : neither reading, music, nor drawing, occupied any portion of their time.

I was present at several of the balls, which were very numerously attended, though, from the grave countenances of most of the gentlemen, it was evident that a quadrille to them was no laughing matter.

There is perhaps nothing that strikes a stranger more in respect to the society in this country, than the almost entire absence of anything like refinement. The ladies on this occasion were gaily and fashionably dressed ; still there was a want of style about them, as well as the men, who for the most part are stiff and ceremonious, without being either graceful or gentlemanlike.

The waters here are said to be very restorative. I drank ten tumblers every morning myself, and experienced the greatest relief ; but I would advise every one who wishes to benefit by the waters to take a turn after the tenth glass on the circular railroad close by. You enter a car on wheels, and work your own passage by turning a kind of grindstone immediately before you; and the faster you turn the handle, the faster you go—that is a fact.

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