felt, and the old misery returns. Vainly I
look around the car for relief. A few
sad-eyed tobacco-chewers spitting in their
sleep, two or three sallow women, and a goodly
number of infantile suckers (or hoosiers, as
the inhabitants of Illinois and Indiana
respectively are called), compose the bulk of
my fellow-passengers. After such an
interior view, the prairie was, for an instant,
charming.

It seemed as if that afternoon would never
end; but at length the sun sank, the horizon
was enlivened for a few moments with
brilliant hues and the evening shades prevailed.
The horrors of the prairie partially disapeared
with daylight; but the horrors of the gleaming
track, laid out stark and stiff behind us, were
more horribly fascinating than ever. Coiled
upon a seat—a whole one to myself —I tried
to sleep, but closed my eyes only to open them
again and wonder how many hours were
between me and morning.  The constant
jumping made my position— uncomfortable
enough at best—intolerable; the atmosphere
was thoroughly impregnated with bad tobacco
and worse breaths, and the babies
throttled silence.

I had begun to doubt whether day and
night succeeded each other with the same
regularity upon the prairie as in more
civilised localities, when the dawn, pale and
wan, and in not the best of tempers, looked
in upon us. During the night we had wound
our way out of the prairie, and were now in a
fine, rolling country, agreeably diversified
with hills and forests, and neat, thriving,
country villages. Rushing by Galena, famed
for its lead-mines, we were soon within sight
of the Mississipi. We stopped at Dunleith,
a pretty little village, crouching at the feet of
several tall cliffs, and modestly-looking across
the river at her big brother, Dubuque, in the
younger State of Iowa; who had climbed
higher up the hills than she, and looked a bit
boastful, sitting there in the sun.

A voyage upon the Northern Mississipi,
now-a-days, is not materially different from a
voyage upon any other stream in America.
Commerce has rooted up the snags and
sawyers that were the terror of the early
navigators. There is no boat-racing or boiler-
bursting; and gambling has been so thoroughly
done away with, that the placards, prohibiting
it, are seldom renewed when worn out or
defaced, but still hang in the cabin, relics of
days that were. No ruffians pick their teeth
with their bowie-knives, flourish revolvers,
or bid the travelling child of civilisation
drink or fight, as he may elect. Emigrants
and tourists have destroyed the romance of
Western river-life, and dulness reigns.

The Defiance, in which our train deposited
its contents, was a fair specimen of the better
class of Mississipi boats. She was a high-
pressure, side-wheel steamer, with a huge flat
bottom, which her pilot displayed no hesitation
in running aground, when passengers or
freight were to be landed or shipped, and
an inveterate habit of giving vent, upon the
slightest provocation, to a series of the vilest
yelps that ever usurped the name of whistle.
In each of the state-rooms, with which her
sparely-furnished cabin was surrounded, were
a couple of berths, where travellers, wise
with the wisdom of this world, by no means
go to bed; but lie down with their boots on
and their shawls wrapped closely round them.
The Defiance carried a hundred and fifty or
two hundred passengers, including a score of
the poorer class of emigrants, who housed
between decks,— one with his cow, one with
his rifle and axe, one with nothing but a
family, all with their whole worldly possessions.
Few invited study, or a more intimate
acquaintance. Two or three lank-haired
backwoodsmen drew attentive circles about
their long-winded tales of frontier life; and
one married couple excited general interest.
The wife was young, not very fair, but
sprightly, and a born coquette; the husband
was older than her husband should have
been, with heavy whiskers, a swarthy
complexion, and a hard eye. She was taking
a bridal tour; he, a business journey, in
search of the best investments in western
lands. Going after strange gods himself,
he left the divinity whom he had sworn
to serve, to other worshippers. Her
propensity to make love, while her husband
was striving to make money, was encouraged
by one, at least, of our fellow-passengers.
Doctor Jones—who, by virtue of being
a Jones, was related to half the world, and
well acquainted with the other half—- was
apparently the last person likely to please the
gay young bride. He was one of those terrible
bores, who are bent upon the acquisition of
facts. With the ardour of a youthful poet, he
would buttonhole the nearest man, and read
him asleep with extracts from his diary. He
talked upon all topics; cleverly, upon none.
He was built somewhat after the fashion
of the traditional Yankee, but was older than
that much-abused personage is reported to
be, and had none of the peculiarities of dialect,
accentuation or feature, which are popularly
attached to the character. But, at heart, he
was a thorough Yankee, sharp, knowing, Jack
of all trades, minding everybody's business,
including his own; and, in his blind way,
making the most of his opportunities. How
this modern Paris managed to steal into our
Helen's affections, and how the story, which
opened with chats in the cabin, rough courtesy
at table, and walks upon the deck at twilight,
ended, I never knew.

The Defiance set before her guests three
meals a-day, at stated intervals, and fresh
Mississipi in goblets at all hours. The
heart of what citizen, whose daily drink
comes from a stagnant pond, through
miles of brick aqueduct and lead pipe,
does not leap at the idea of quaffing from
the urn of the Father of Waters ?  Let