might be seen higher up the glen, they scrambled on, for about a hundred yards, and, directed in some degree by a strong smell of sulphur, they applied their match to several places, with similar effect. These fires continue burning unceasingly, unless they are extinguished by accident. The phænomenon was originally discovered by the casual rolling of lighted embers, from the top of the bank, whilst some persons were clearing it for cultivation; and, in the intensity and duration of the flame, it probably exceeds any thing of the kind that is known.

Rochester stands immediately on the great falls of the Genesee, about eight miles above its entrance into lake Ontario. When Mr. Hall was here, this town had been built only four years, yet it contained a hundred good houses, furnished with all the conveniences of life; several comfortable taverns, a cotton-mill, and some large corn-mills. Its site is grand. The Genesee rushes through it, over a bed of limestone, and precipitates itself down three ledges of rock, ninety-three, thirty, and seventy-six feet in height, within the distance of a mile and a half from the town. The immediate vicinity of Rochester is still an unbroken forest, consisting of oak, hickory, ash, beech, bass, elm, and walnut-trees. The wild tenants of the woods have, naturally, retired before the sound of cultivation; but there are a few wolves and bears still in the neighbourhood. One of the latter had lately seized a pig close to the town. Racoons, porcupines, squirrels black and grey, and foxes, are still numerous. The hogs have done good service in destroying the rattle-snakes, which are already becoming rare. Pigeons, quails, and blackbirds abound. At Rochester, the line of settled country, in this direction, terminates; for, from this place to Lewistown, are eighty miles of wilderness.

The traveller, halting on the verge of these aboriginal shades, is inclined to pause in thought, and to consider the interesting scenes through which he has been passing. They are such as reason must admire, for they

are the result of industry, temperance, and freedom. Five or ten, or, at the utmost, twenty years before Mr. Hall was in America, where there are now corn-fields, towns, and villages, the whole country was one mass of forest.

Notwithstanding the bad state of the roads, the stagewaggon runs from Rochester to Lewistown in two days. This journey is so heavy, that it is sometimes necessary to alight, and walk several miles, or to suffer almost a dislocation of limbs, in jolting over causeys or logged roads, formed of pine, or oak-trees, laid crossways. At different intervals, square patches seem cut out of the forest, in the centre of which low log-huts have been constructed, without the aid of saw or plane; and are surrounded by stumps of trees, black with the fires kindled for the purpose of clearing the land.

Lewistown was one of the frontier villages burnt during the last war, to retaliate upon the Americans for the destruction of Newark. It has, however, been since rebuilt, and all the marks of its devastation have been effaced. It is agreeably situated, at the foot of the limestone ridge, on the steep bank of the river St. Lawrence, which here rushes, with a boiling and eddying torrent, from the falls to Lake Ontario. Lewistown, notwithstanding its infancy, and its remote situation, contains several good stores.

Queenston, on the opposite side of the river, stands in the midst of corn-fields and farm-houses; a rare and interesting sight in Canada. It is built on the river's -edge, at the foot of the heights. Before the late war it was embosomed in peach-orchards; but these were all felled, to aid the operations of the English troops. The heights are still crowned by a redoubt, and by the remains of batteries, raised to defend the passage of the river. It was near one of these that Sir Isaac Brocke was killed, on the 13th of October, 1812, while, with four hundred men, he gallantly opposed the landing of fifteen hundred Americans, the whole of whom were afterwards captured by general Sheaffe.

From Queenston Mr. Hall proceeded to York, a town within the British territory, situated on the northwestern bank of lake Ontario. The country through which he passed abounded in game of various kinds. From the head of the lake it was, however, less varied than on the Niagara frontiers; and, for many miles, it war an uniform tract of sandy barrens, unsusceptible of culture.

York, being the seat of government for Upper Canada, is a place of considerable importance in the eyes of its inhabitants. To a stranger, however, it presents little more than about one hundred wooden houses, several of them conveniently, and even elegantly built; one or two of brick. The public buildings were destroyed by the Americans.

From York, Mr. Hall went, through the little town of Ancaster, to visit a Settlement of Mohawk Indians, on the banks of the Grand River. In the American war the Mohawks were strongly attached to the British interest, and first followed Sir William Johnson in Canada, under their chieftain, a celebrated warrior, whose name was Brandt. This man accustomed his people to the arts of civilized life, and made farmers of them. He built a church, and himself translated one of the gospels into the Mohawk language. His grave is to be seen under the walls of his church. The son of this extraordinary Indian is now living, and is a fine young man, of gentlemanly manners and appearance: he both speaks and writes the English language with correctness; and he dresses nearly in the English fashion. Brandt left also a daughter, who is living, and who would not disgrace the fashionable circles of Europe. Her face and person are fine and graceful: she speaks English, not only correctly, but elegantly; and, both in her speech and manners, she has a softness approaching oriental languor. She retains so much of her national dress as to identify her with her people; over whom she affects no superiority, but with whom she seems pleased to preserve all the ties and

duties of relationship. She held the infant of one of her relations at the font, on the Sunday that Mr. Hall visited the church at Ancaster. The usual church and baptismal service was performed by a Dr. Aaron, an Indian, and an assistant priest; the congregation consisted of sixty or seventy persons, male and female. Many of the young men were dressed in the English fashion, but several of the old warriors came with their blankets, folded over them; and, in this dress, with a step and mien of quiet energy, they forcibly reminded Mr. Hall of ancient Romans. Some of them wore large silver crosses, medals, and other trinkets, on their backs and breasts; and a few had bandeaus, ornamented with feathers. Dr. Aaron, a grey-headed Mohawk, had touched his cheeks and forehead with a few spots of vermilion, in honour of Sunday: he wore a surplice, and preached at considerable length; but his delivery was unimpassioned and monotonous.

The Mohawk village stands on a little plain, and looks down upon the Grand River. The houses of the inhabitants, built of logs, rudely put together, exhibit, externally, a great appearance of neglect and want of comfort: some few are in a better condition. The house belonging to Brandt's family resembled that of a petty English farmer: Dr. Aaron's was neat and clean. The doctor, who had been regularly ordained, and spoke very good English, told Mr. Hall that the village had been much injured by the wars, which had impeded its improvements, and had dispersed the inhabitants over the country.

Mr. Hall had little opportunity of observing the manners and character of these Indians. It may, however, be conjectured that European intercourse is fast obliterating the characteristic features of their former social system. Their increased knowledge of European arts and enjoyments, has been probably followed by a proportionate increase of wants and desires. Their manners seemed, to Mr. Hall, remarkable for nothing so much as for that quiet self-possession, which con

stitutes the reverse of vulgarity. Their women, before strangers, are extremely timid: most of those who lived at a distance from the church, came mounted, with their husbands walking by their sides; a symptom, perhaps, that the sex is rising among them into an European equality of rights and enjoyments. The whole of the settlements are reckoned to furnish about five hundred warriors to the British government.

Mr. Hall next describes the celebrated Cataract or Falls of Niagara. At the distance of about a mile from this cataract, a white cloud, hovering over the trees, indicates its situation: it is not, however, until the road emerges from a close country, into the space of open ground immediately in its vicinity, that white volumes of foam are seen, as if boiling up from a sulphureous gulph. Here a foot-path turns from the road, towards a wooded cliff. The rapids are beheld on the right, rushing, for the space of a mile, like a tempestuous sea. A narrow tract descends about sixty feet down the cliff, and continues across a plashy meadow, through a copse, encumbered with masses of limestone. Beyond this, Mr. Hall found himself upon what is called the Table Rock, on the west side of the upper part of the cataract, at the very point where the river precipitates itself into the abyss. The rapid motion of the waters, the stunning noise, and the mounting clouds, almost persuade the startled senses, that the rock itself is tottering, and is on the point of being precipitated into the gulph, which swallows the mass of descending waters. He bent over it, to mark the clouds rolling white beneath him, as in an inverted sky, illuminated by a most brilliant rainbow; one of those features of softness which nature delights to pencil amid her wildest scenes, tempering her awfulness with beauty, and making even her terrors lovely.

There is a ladder about half a mile below the Table Rock; and, by this, Mr. Hall descended the cliff, to reach the foot of the fall. There was formerly much difficulty in the descent, but a few years have made a