the end of the journey. We stayed to dine at Troy, a large and well-built city, and there again took the stage for Albany, being too late for the rails. It was night when we arrived; and being too unwell to move out, except to see one or two of the main streets, I had not much opportunity of inspecting the place. But I saw it was a large, fine, and most respectable-looking city; many of the houses being spacious, the streets broad, and the public buildings very commanding. This is the capital of the State of New-York, the seat of Government, and of the State Parliament. We embarked on the Hudson the next morning, and descended this classical stream, the pride and glory of the Americans, being esteemed by them as presenting the most beautiful scenery in the States. It well deserves its fame. The banks are studded with towns and villages, rich fields in a state of fine cultivation, stupendous and rugged rocks, together with mountain scenery of the most interesting and majestic nature, some near, and some in the distance; abrupt and precipitous shores, yawning and frowning upon the passers by; and splendid landscapes, and picturesque views, enriched with umbrageous woods and forests. I could only now and then take a peep at this magic combination of land and water, being obliged the greater part of the voyage to keep in my cabin. We were on board one of the most complete of the American river-boats. Nobody in this country can form an idea of the nature of one of these vessels; our ships furnish no analogies, except in the fact that both are propelled by steam, and glide on the water. For, by reason of the peculiar structure of the class of steamers already referred to, this vessel presented the aspect of prodigious size, both below and above. The dining-room was below, and occupied the space between the sides of the ship, reaching from stem to stern, and was filled with five or six tiers of berths, one above another; the saloon was equally large, with state-rooms on each side. This enormous floating palace could accommodate a thousand persons on board. The term "palace" is used, of course, improperly, as a ship cannot be like a palace. But in fittings-up, in decoration, in ornament, it was a perfect palace and altogether presented a scene of magnificence of a very extraordinary description. : We arrived at New-York in the evening; and being too unwell to trouble any private friend, we took up our residence for the night at the City Hotel. The necessity of applying to Mr. Harper, the following day, for Dr. Belcher's address, brought him acquainted with my situation, and in the afternoon he kindly took me to his own house. In passing through the streets of New-York, it was very pleasing to see the crowds returning from their places of worship. Blacks, coloured people, and whites, were all mingled together in a long flowing tide, quietly and gravely passing along to their homes. By Tuesday morning I had begun to amend, and, feeling better, the thought suddenly rushed into my mind, "I can go home, and I will." But the doctor must be consulted. He came; and, on telling him my thoughts and feelings, he said, the probability was that I should do very well; but there was just a chance that I might have a relapse. The reply was, "Then the probability shall have it, and we will throw the chances to the winds." We took our leave of our affectionate friends, the Harpers, about four in the afternoon. The steamer made her way down the Sound, and we soon lost sight of New-York, and its splendid harbour. I found, on trial, that my cabin was just over some kind of machinery which produced a jarring and upheaving motion, which precluded the possibility of rest; and when night came on, I was obliged to drag my mattress into the saloon, but failed to get one wink of sleep. We left the vessel about daylight, and passed on by railroad to Boston. After spending a few hours at the Riviere, and in visiting the city, we went on board the "America," lying in the offing, four or five miles distant. This noble ship had made the voyage from England in eleven days and a half, the shortest trip ever known; and is, of her class, the finest steamer in the world. We got under weigh about four in the afternoon, and soon lost sight of the shores of ́ America. Nothing of any consequence took place on the voyage. We made Halifax again in the night, so that I could not see any thing either of the harbour or the city. Here I lost my dear friend, Dr. Richey, and became truly desolate. He had been my companion at Pittsburgh, at the Canada Conference at Belleville, and travelled with me through Canada, and forward to this place. Truth and justice demand that I should say, that Dr. Richey is one of the most perfect Christian gentlemen I ever came in I contact with. Politeness, founded on gentle, warm, and genuine affections, is the very element of his nature. never heard from him a rash, rude, or unkind word, much less ever saw him perpetrate an unchristian or unbecoming action. I looked after my dear friend as far as the dim lamps would allow me to see him, and in my heart bade him a sad, a long, a last adieu. There sat opposite to me at our table a gentleman, with a lady and little girl, and on my right a thin, pale, interesting-looking young man, both completely Americanized in their appearance; their beards were sticking out on their chins in Yankee fashion, and their dress and bearing altogether seemed to bespeak them citizens of the States. We had taken several meals in company, when the gentleman who sat opposite said to me, "Pray, Sir, is your name Dixon?" On replying, "Yes," he said, " And name is Cocker: I am the son of Henry Cocker, of Hathersage" and then the pale young man, who was standing by, said, "And my name is. Ibbotson: I am the son of Mr. Ibbotson, of Sheffield." The meeting was mutually pleasant. Mr. Cocker left us at Halifax; but Mr. Ibbotson was my very agreeable companion to the end of the voyage. my Sunday was unlike our sabbath on board the "Acadia.” Dr. Richey had spoken to the captain, whom he knew, and had told him who I was, and mentioned my taking the service; and, moreover, he understood that the captain had assented to the proposition. But it did not so turn out. He read prayers himself, and finished the service with one of Henry Blunt's sermons. The service was well read; and the sermon, as may be imagined from the name of the author, was excellent. How singular is human character! This captain would certainly not lay claim to Methodism, and yet he seemed to take great delight in acting the parson, and really did it well. He is, however, somewhat celebrated for his exclusive churchism. About a dozen American divines sailed with him from the great Alliance Meeting in London, not one of whom would he allow to officiate; but on that as on the present occasion, he performed the service himself. One other trait of character, but quite of another description, arose out of this affair. When the time came to propose the captain's health, which means returning him thanks for his conduct, a good Free-churchman, a genuine Scot, rose up and went out. He afterwards told me, that, perceiving what was going to be done, he departed, because he could not in his conscience be a party to a vote of thanks to a man who had, as he expressed himself, 'insulted you, by taking the service himself when there was a regular minister on board." The matter had little effect on my own mind, except in so far as it prevented me having the pleasure of preaching the cross of Christ to the promiscuous group around. But how truly characteristic of the real Scotchman was the conduct of my friend! And, moreover, how honourable to his principles, his integrity, and his religious convictions! On Saturday, the 8th of July, we hove in sight of old Erin early in the morning, and passed up Channel, all day seeing many spots interesting in Irish history, successively presenting themselves to view. Sunday morning we saw Holyhead. We were met, on returning home, with the truly English welcome of a dense fog and a drenching rain. Our pilot brought newspapers, containing an account of the massacres of Paris. We had a great number of French on board; they had been very gay up to this period; but now an entire change came over them. Thoughtfulness, sadness, melancholy were expressed for the moment: how long would it last? Some of the countenances seemed to indicate the fear, that possibly some endeared relative might have fallen in the conflict. Had it not been for the serious events connected with the cause of this change, it would have been perfectly ludicrous it was like the overshadowing of a sunny scene by the sudden rush of passing clouds. : We landed at Liverpool, at half-past two. I went to Stanhope-street chapel at night, and heard my present colleague, Mr. Brice. How sweet, how soothing, how heavenly is the service of God's house, after the tossings of a sea-voyage! And how full of rest and quiet to the soul is the society of religious friends, after dwelling for a long time in the midst of promiscuous company! I hastened down to the Custom-House by five o'clock the next morning; but could not get released till near nine. Paid eight shillings duty for the American books which had been given me by friends. Set out for my beloved home, arrived about noon, found all well. To God be all the glory! Amen. CHAP. XI.-Reflections on America—Unfairly dealt with by Travellers-A religious People--This necessary to explain their StateThe real Americans not hostile to this Country-Their peaceful and prosperous Condition-Education, the Principles on which it is conducted-The Force of Christianity in its simply Divine Authority-The Americans trust in this-Public Worship and the Duties of Religion-Slavery partly removed by the Influence of Christian Principle. A LENGTHENED investigation of objects of curiosity, or of men, manners, and institutions, is not necessary or intended; as our literature abounds with books of travel, graphic descriptions of scenery, and analysis of the institutions and social state of America. These productions, of course, take their colouring, in some degree, from the opinions, tastes, prejudices, and passions of their authors. They abound with information, but contain little instruction. And it cannot be denied, by candid persons, that most of them are grievously deformed by partial and exaggerated descriptions-caricatures-of the manners and habits of our transatlantic brethren. The causes of this are undoubtedly many; and, probably, if traced to their motive, would be found much diversified. One of these causes, however, is obvious enough. The Americans are a religious people; and this element can neither be avoided nor lightly touched. But, instead of treating this question with the hand either of the Christian or of the philosopher, these parties, in some instances, disregard the subject altogether, and, in others, treat it with levity or hostility. The religious notions and peculiarities of the people are turned into ridicule and scorn; their associations for benevolent and Christian purposes are lampooned as fanatical; their modes of expression and devotional exercises are held up to contempt; and their abstinence from the amusements of the world is treated as indicative of ill-breeding, or a sign of hypocrisy. It is obvious that writers of this class are ill-suited to understand or to delineate the character of a grave and religious community. Taking their gauge and measure ment from the beau monde of London or of Parisian society, they naturally find all sober sense, industrious habits, and religious sentiments an eccentricity or a bore. The point with this race of voyageurs is, to see if the manners of the plain republican are in agreement with those of the |